Fists rise, fists fall.

The storm dissipates, the dust settles. The Cunning Beast's journey went smoothly, without any pain.

Looking at the back of the young man swinging his fists, and the cape slowly falling, the old man beside him couldn't help but open his mouth, stunned and unable to speak for a while.

On one hand, he was a little scared by this power. It's hard for anyone to remain indifferent when seeing such a fist for the first time.