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Bathing in Blood, Drawing a Sword, Leaping on Clouds, Pulling at Beards

Translator: hypersheep13

If a gust of wind were to strike the rocks of a cliff, it would naturally disperse.

This was the feeling given by the Army Shattering Fist striking Chen Changsheng's shoulder.

Of course, it was not a real gust of wind, so his uniform had been shredded and his blurred body had slowed for an instant.

But only an instant.

His left foot stepped on the ground, and, unsurprisingly, his brand-new shoes broke into threads and cracks splayed across the ground.

At almost the same time, several Army Shattering Fists struck his body. His uniform suffered heavy damage, drifting about in the air, and several distinct impressions of fists could be seen on his body, but none of them went any further.

In this moment, it did not look like the Army Shattering Fist was crashing against his body, but like he was using his body to crash against these energetic fist intents.