What he was most proud of was a pair of iron fists, which could be penetrated with one punch even if it was a steel plate of several centimeters.

Yang Mo's fist was white and slender, and he looked like he was unable to tie a chicken. When he was fighting against him, he would be completely useless to hit the stone with an egg, and he would definitely be ruined.

Thinking of Yang Mo's tragic situation, the man with a buzz cut had excitement on his face, and he hit Yang Mo's fist without reservation.

Bang!

In the blink of an eye, the two fists collided hard together.

Click!

Accompanied by a crisp sound, a figure was struck by lightning, and the whole person flew back four or five meters away, landing in a big pit on the ground.

Yang Mo was still standing quietly, as if he was a mountain, motionless.

This...how is this possible!

If it weren't for the blood of the iron fist that caused him to feel extremely painful, the man with a buzz cut suspected that he was dreaming.

He could not believe that his dignified mercenary king, known as the "iron fist", would be beaten away by such a "waste".

"Who are you? Who are you?"

The buzz-cut man shouted in fear.

"Go back and tell Yang Ming that from today on, Yang Mo is no longer the 'waste' Yang Mo. If he wants to die, come to me for revenge."

Yang Mo threw down his words and walked straight down the mountain.
Chapter completed!