Sighing, the hooded man finally moved, voluntarily lifting a finger. "Maybe this will get it through your thick skin…"
A simple flick. That's all the man did. He flicked one of the incoming fists without batting an eye or missing a beat.
CRASH!
Propelled across the room, Zelsh was thrown into the desk in the corner, destroying it with ease. The crash landing left Zelsh with a sore arm and a sore back from the impact of the flick and the fall.
"Is that enough for you?" the man asked, preparing to a two-fingered flick as he sauntered toward the fallen king cultivator.
"... What plane are you?"
"Oliver won't fight, and you won't mention anything interesting about him to anyone, including the prefecture lord. You understand what I'm talking about, right? Or do I need to get specific?" asked the man, calmly placing his two-fingers against Zelsh's forehead. "I would dare you to attempt it, but provoking you would only force my hand further."
