This force had not yet reached his fingertips when he noticed a faint smile at the corner of Chen Ping's mouth.
"Not good."
The old eunuch Wei Lianxiang twisted his waist, like a lithium fish leaping over the waves, trying to float backward.
Every time, after attacking and withdrawing, he prided himself that no one in the world had a faster or more cunning body technique than his.
This time, however, was completely different.
Chen Ping did not attack; one hand was already waiting there, and with a slight closing of his big hand, he grabbed his wrist.
Like the force of a collapsing mountain, the immense force came from between those five fingers.
"Golden Cicada Shell."
With a sharp yell, Wei Lianxiang's whole body exploded with a sound, transforming into a short and slender figure, his wrist shrank, sliding out from Chen Ping's hand.
He was about to soar into the sky.
Chen Ping took another step, reached out, and grabbed his right foot from behind.
"Still trying to escape."
