Arriving at the Wang family villa, the guards and bodyguards were in dire straits, some collapsing, others dead, their ends brutal and swift.
Just as Ming Zhitian took a few steps forward, the large glass doors shattered, and an old man was flung out.
The old man rolled on the ground a few times before spitting blood and dying.
"Hahahahaha... Zhina..."
Ming Zhitian found the slur repulsive, an insult to anyone.
"Whoosh!" Ming Zhitian moved.
He darted silently like a phantom. When his figure reappeared in their sight,
Ming Zhitian’s foot slammed into Haiyuan Teben's beer belly. "Thud! Bang!"
Haiyuan Teben was kicked flying through the wall. Before he could recover, Ming Zhitian grabbed him as easily as if he were holding a chicken.
He then proceeded to smash Haiyuan Teben around, battering him beyond recognition, the pockmarked ground now imprinted with various human-shaped dents.
The sound of cracking bones echoed through the sky, like a thunderclap song resonating in everyone's hearts.
Haiyuan Teben curled into a ball, a bloody mess, undeniably dead.
The pitiable and pathetic Haiyuan Teben, unable to resist in the slightest even in death.
By the time the others reacted, Yuan Jie quickly recoiled in fear, "Quick, quick! Stop him, no! Kill him!"
The thugs hadn't grasped the situation. Haiyuan Teben, originally an Earth-tier martial artist, couldn't withstand Ming Zhitian's surprise kick; what hope did they, mere trash of the lower Earth-tier, have?
Yet, they didn't see it that way. They all believed Ming Zhitian was merely an assassin who got lucky.
There is no turning back, and no regret medicine in this world. Ming Zhitian, radiating power, spun twice, delivered four kicks, and threw two punches with ease. The thugs fell like bowling pins, each strike a kill.
Ming Zhitian's battle intent surged as he broke through to the middle stage of the Minor Heavenly Cycle.
Yuan Jie, terrified, slumped to the ground, utterly lost, as if he were dreaming and everything was fake, completely fake.
"Grandma! No! Grandma! Wuwuwu..."
Cries echoed from not far away. Wang Guo and his group had arrived.
Wang Xixian, holding the old man, wept uncontrollably. Xiao Hong had also come. Wang Guo, limping, approached with disbelief, witnessing the scene.
"Earth-tier martial artist Haiyuan Teben is dead?! You did this?" Wang Guo asked Ming Zhitian, incredulous and questioning.
"I did," Ming Zhitian did not conceal it.
Wang Guo shook his head, still unconvinced. Just days ago, Ming Zhitian was only a low-level martial artist, not even Earth-tier. How could he have single-handedly killed Haiyuan Teben? It was preposterous.
He then turned to the stunned Yuan Jie, "Who did this?"
Yuan Jie shook his head desperately, "Spare me, spare me, please let me go. I'll give you money, I have lots of money. No, my father has lots of money. Don't kill me, I'll give you all my money, all of it. Please let me go."
In Wang Guo's eyes, Ming Zhitian was just a youth younger than himself, someone he himself couldn't defeat. But in Yuan Jie's eyes, Ming Zhitian was a demon from the eighteenth level of hell.
Wang Guo knelt before Ming Zhitian, "Brother Zhitian, thank you for avenging my grandmother and Bobbie. From now on, I, Wang Guo, will repay you with my life if necessary."
Ming Zhitian frowned slightly and quickly helped him up, "You're too kind. Since you took me and Xiao Hong in, I owe you a favor. This was just a small effort, hardly worth mentioning."
Wang Guo looked like he was about to kneel again, but Ming Zhitian waved him off, "If you have something to say, say it. Don't be wishy-washy like a woman."
"That's the spirit! Zhitian, help me kill this beast!" Wang Guo pointed at Yuan Jie.
Yuan Jie, terrified, wet himself, nearly incontinent.