With that, he swung the cane in his hand, unleashing a set of unique and sinister staff techniques.
His movements flowed like drifting clouds and running water, yet carried a ruthless, resolute edge; every swing tore the air with a sharp whooshing sound.
As the cane danced, it whipped up a powerful current of air, like a tornado suddenly rising from flat ground.
Tables and chairs around them were battered by the blast, toppling in all directions with a series of crackling crashes.
Some were blown up to tumble in midair like kites with cut strings; some were smashed to splinters on the spot, wooden shards flying everywhere.
In an instant, the entire space was churned into utter chaos by this overwhelming force, dust billowing.
As Wuri Chagai whirled his cane, he chanted under his breath, his gaze locked tightly onto Shi Feiyang, not letting a single one of his movements slip past; that focused expression told Shi Feiyang clearly—today, it was either you die or I die.
