"ARGHHHHHH..."
The next moment, Yang Yanpeng let out a furious roar. His palms, having completed the Flower Hand flourish, blurred into a flurry of afterimages, raining down on Zou Feng.
This was a move unique to the complete Five Poison Palm—Ten Thousand Poisons Facing the Sect!
"Just... DIE, DIE, DIE!!"
Shouting could boost one's momentum and, more importantly, temporarily banish fear.
Zou Feng had no interest in getting hit by this move. It would be tantamount to getting groped all over by a madman.
So, with a quick shift of his feet, he began to sway and weave as if he were drunk.
But this seemingly chaotic, drunken stumbling was exquisitely precise, allowing him to dodge every single one of Yang Yanpeng's palm strikes.
Yang Yanpeng's Ten Thousand Poisons Facing the Sect ended up facing nothing but empty air.
'I can't hit him?'
'Why can't I hit him!?'
