"Shinichi, are you ok?"

When he saw his eight disciples of Sanshen Pavilion, he was beaten to vomit blood by Ye Fan. Su Zuo mingzun's brows were gloomy and frowned. He quickly stepped forward and asked, worried.

The leader of a man spit out the blood in the mouth, ferocious voice way: "Ming Zun, we are OK."

"Just now, we were just careless."

"This time, we will never give him any more opportunities!"

The man named Xinyi said in a deep voice with angry eyes.

Red eyebrows and red eyes, that surging hate is almost condensed into the essence, the words, are not satisfied with and unwilling.

"Two, three, let's go!"

"This time, Dutchman, give me your best shot."

"I don't believe it. Eight of us can't even beat a Chinese Punk?"

The eight men were old and livid. Although the corners of their mouths were stained with blood, they did not have any idea of flinching back and fear. Some were only angry and resentful.

The confrontation just now undoubtedly brought disgrace to them.

Naturally, the eight of them were not willing to, so they had to find this place back.

Otherwise, the eight disciples of Sanshen Pavilion will not be killed by jokes.

Therefore, with the leader of that one roar, these eight people regardless of the body injury, red eyes then again rushed to kill.

These disciples were young and full of vigor, and were unwilling to admit defeat. However, Su Zuo mingzun on one side looked at them and shook his head.

"It seems that what wangyuehe said before is true."

"This young Chinese is by no means as simple as it seems."

Su Zuo mingzun looks at Ye Fan from afar, and the expression on his old face gradually becomes dignified.

However, even though he realized Ye Fan's strength, xuzuo mingzun did not immediately take action.

He was still standing there, still expressionless.

No one knows what kind of edge is brewing under the seemingly calm surface of Su Zuo mingzun?

At this time, the eight disciples of Sanshen pavilion have rushed up again.

The energy in the body is sweeping, and the whole body is full of sharp edges.

The eight men stepped on the earth and were vigorous. They were like swords coming out of their scabbards and shooting straight for nine days.

"Son of a bitch, come again!"

"Last time, it was the carelessness of our eight brothers."

"This time, we will kill you!"

In the roar, the eight men rushed to Ye Fan. The majestic power explodes in an instant.

"Magic sword technique!"

...

"Xiaoyang palm!"

...

"three magic fists!"

...

or fist or palm, or chop or chop.

Like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each shows his magic power.

The powerful and unreservedly released.

The attack brought snow and wind all over the sky.

In people's eyes, only a few sharp points converged into a stream.

Finally, boundless strength converges into a tornado, with the momentum of sweeping the Tianhe, towards Ye Fan.

In the storm, Ye Fan stands erect with negative hands.

He was fearless in the face of the imposing majesty ahead.

There is nothing but contempt and pride above a delicate face.

"I thought that the disciples of Sanshen Pavilion should be the best among the people."

"Now it looks like that."

"I dare not face the failure. I just cheat myself here."

"It's hard to achieve anything in the future in the way of martial arts."

Ye Fan shakes his head and smiles. In his words, he is full of scorn.

Just now the confrontation, their own to destroy the decadent momentum, a blow swept the eight people.

But anyone who has a little self-knowledge will realize that they will not be their opponents at all.

However, Ye Fan did not expect that, up to now, the eight of them even deceived themselves.

Blame the failure just now on your carelessness?

"In this case, this time, the dragon master will let you lose, convinced!"