The instant Commander Zhang was sent flying, the entire courtyard seemed to freeze. The soldiers’ weapons fell to the ground with a clang . Their pupils widened in sheer horror, and more than a few unconsciously stepped back. Ankles struck against the bamboo fence, producing faint rattling sounds, yet no one dared lower their heads to look. Li Juntang’s longsword gave a sharp hum . He gripped the hilt with all his strength to keep it from slipping free, his fingertips scraping a red line across the cold scabbard. The child’s punch had been so fast it was like a lingering afterimage. That plump little fist carried no trace of force in the air, yet when it landed on Commander Zhang’s chest, it was like a falling meteor. Li Juntang had seen with his own eyes the breastplate crumpling like paper, the brittle snap of breaking ribs mixing with the grinding scrape of bone piercing his ears. “Commander Zhang…” One of his guards, trembling, tried to step forward to help, but froze after...