Just now, that palm strike hadn’t revealed much to the onlookers, but after this one, everyone noticed something off about Dai Songling’s complexion—it twisted into a grimace that seemed both like a cry and a laugh, leaving people unsure of what was happening.
Could it be that the two palm strikes from Mu Hanyan were not as simple as they appeared and had already caused Dai Songling to suffer an internal injury? But could this legendary Big Playboy of the Mu Family really possess such strength?
As everyone was pondering with confusion, suddenly, a long, muffled "Pfft..." came from Dai Songling’s body. Then followed a series of short, muffled "Pfft pfft pfft pfft..." like a barrage of firecrackers.
Afterward, a stench began to permeate the air.
"Ugh, it stinks to death, this old guy actually farted from the beating!" Finally, people realized what had happened and they all retreated while covering their noses.
There’s an ancient saying that a loud fart doesn’t stink and a smelly one isn’t loud, but a machine-gun barrage of farts that’s both smelly and loud really does exist, eh? Everyone was overwhelmed by the stench.
"What did you eat yesterday to make it smell this bad?" Mo Yanhong and the others also jumped aside with their noses covered, looking at Dai Songling with disgust.
Dai Songling felt so mortified he wished he could die from a head-on collision. He had just managed to suppress that turbid air, only to have it released . It might have brought some relief, but it was utterly humiliating.
"Manager Dai really has some moves, take my final palm strike," Mu Hanyan pressed opportunistically and struck with another palm.
"Didn’t you just say you were going to concede?" Dai Songling asked indignantly. Google seaʀᴄh NoveI★Fire.net
"What I said was I would concede if it really came to it, but since I’ve already knocked the farts out of you, maybe the next palm will make you piss yourself too, why would I concede?" Mu Hanyan said with a look as though he was viewing an idiot.
"You little brat, you dare to mock me!" Dai Songling erupted in rage. He had suffered to hold it in so much that he even farted, just waiting for Mu Hanyan to concede an apology, but who would have thought the other person was just playing him all along, even rubbing salt in his wound—how could he not be furious?
"During those two palm strikes, I only used seventy percent of my strength. This time, I will use my full force," Mu Hanyan said with a chill in his tone.
Keep bluffing, do you really think you’re a Sword Master and only using seventy percent force? Dai Songling thought contemptuously. He was still full of confidence in his own abilities and didn’t believe that Mu Hanyan could have injured his internal organs with just seventy percent force.
Indeed, it wasn’t until that series of loud farts that he realized his internal organs had been injured by Mu Hanyan. Even if he had been careless and underestimated the opponent, and even if Mu Hanyan possessed the strength of a Great Sword Master Peak, he should not have been injured if the other party was not using full force.
In his opinion, Mu Hanyan’s words were nothing more than a bluff, probably attempting to associate with his own reputation for self-aggrandizement.
Being able to make a dignified Sword Master fart should be something to boast about...cough...cough...
But soon, he realized that he had been wrong.
Mu Hanyan’s palm strike, while not very dramatic, carried an underlying authority of thunder and wind, clearly concentrating Qi to the utmost. It was nearly twice as strong as the previous two strikes.
Such strength was not just slightly better than his peers; it was many times superior. One could say that he almost had one foot in the Junior Sword Master Realm. To call him the top below the Sword Master level was not an exaggeration at all.
Having finally understood Mu Hanyan’s true strength, Dai Songling’s complexion greatly changed as he felt a chill run down his spine.
Witnessing the change in his face, Mu Hanyan’s heart was filled with a cold sneer.