"How dare you!"
The moment these words were uttered, Gong Yuhu's complexion changed, and the anger of the white-robed young man surged. His palm pressed against the hilt of the sword at his waist.
However, before the white-robed young man could draw his sword, Su Changkong, who was seated in the chair, moved without warning. His speed was so fast it surpassed the limits of what the naked eye could capture. With a downward press of his palm, he struck the right hand of the white-robed young man, which was grasping the sword hilt.
"Crack, crack, crack!"
In the midst of the dull exploding noise, the white-robed young man felt as if his right hand had been smashed by a hammer weighing thousands of pounds, emitting a piercing scream. His right hand's bones shattered into pieces, with fragments piercing through the flesh and protruding out.
"My hand... my hand!"
The white-robed young man let out a piercing scream, in such pain that tears and snot flowed down his face.