Chen Tiangang roared with laughter. "I taught you all of your Martial Arts. I know every supposed flaw like the back of my hand."
With that, he fearlessly thrust his hand toward Ning Wuque's chest, his fingers like talons. With vicious power, he tore directly through Ning Wuque's skin and muscle.
Ning Wuque felt a searing pain in his chest, as if he had been brutally seared by a red-hot branding iron. Blood sprayed out like a fountain.
Horrified, Ning Wuque felt the blood in his veins suddenly begin to churn like boiling magma, his vessels threatening to burst from the force.
Chen Tiangang began to laugh maniacally. The sound, like the shriek of a night owl, echoed throughout the entire sect, carrying a bone-chilling madness.
Laughing, he used some unknown method to rip a dark golden mass of blood from Ning Wuque's chest. The mass seemed alive, twisting and struggling in his palm before bizarrely condensing into the shape of a cicada.
