Upon hearing Ye Fengsheng's icy words, the middle-aged man opposite him merely raised his eyelids slightly. There seemed to be no emotional fluctuation, yet the Spirit flowing from within him was palpable.
"Let's see what kind of capital you, Ye's abandoned child, have in this place I've only heard others talk about!"
The middle-aged man snorted coldly and stomped his foot in the air. His body did not lift off. The transparency of the air beneath his feet ripped countless chaotic cracks into his arm. When the killing intent brewed in his hand, he suddenly disappeared from his original spot, leaving only cracks in the sky, which looked terrifying.
Ye Fengsheng did nothing; he turned slightly, seemingly casually, and easily avoided the fierce claw wind that appeared beside him.
