He watched Yang Jing and slowly fell into a stance. His Inner Strength began to circulate quietly as he prepared to use the Inner Strength of his signature Wind-Splitting Palm to test his opponent’s limits.

Yang Jing met Qian Feng’s gaze, his arms lowering slightly. The opening stance of his Mountain-Shattering Fist looked unremarkable, but his Inner Strength was already coiled and ready to strike.

He could faintly sense the ripples of Inner Strength emanating from his opponent—not overwhelmingly powerful, but carrying a certain insidious, entangling quality.

’The Entangling Strength of the Wind-Splitting Palm?’

He mentally reviewed his opponent’s techniques, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

The air around the fighting ring grew heavy, and the crowd held its breath in rapt attention.

Yang Jing took a deep breath, suppressing the flicker of nervousness that came with facing an opponent of the same realm for the first time. In its place rose an eager battlelust.

This fight would be the perfect opportunity to see just how powerful his own Inner Strength truly was.

...

"Begin!"

The moment the middle-aged Official’s voice faded, he shot back from the edge of the ring like an arrow released from its bow, leaving two poised figures on the stage.

Qian Feng was the first to move.

His body blurred as he lunged forward like a wildcat, his palms a flurry of motion that whistled through the air as they flew toward Yang Jing’s face.

The Wind-Splitting Palm was all about speed, entanglement, and finesse. The edges of his palms glowed faintly with the luster of Inner Strength. Before he even closed the distance, that insidious, entangling power was already creeping forward like a spider’s web, attempting to lock down Yang Jing’s movements.

Yang Jing neither dodged nor retreated. Sinking into a low stance, he clenched his right fist. The fierce and powerful Inner Strength of the Mountain-Shattering Fist converged on his knuckles as he punched straight into the oncoming gust.

BANG!

Fist met palm with a deep, muffled boom. The resulting Qi Force scattered in all directions, causing their clothes to snap and flutter.

Qian Feng felt an incomparably ferocious power surge up his arm, vibrating through the web of his hand until it went numb. He was forced back two steps before he could steady himself.

His expression shifted, a flicker of shock in his eyes.

’This power... How is this possible?!’

’Yang Jing is clearly just a junior who recently broke through to the Inner Strength realm. How can his Inner Strength be so potent?’

’I’ve been cultivating Inner Strength for years, and I’m just a step away from my peak. I used seventy percent of my power in that palm strike, yet he took it head-on. I even felt like I was being overpowered.’

’The intensity of his Inner Strength... it’s practically the same as mine!’

Little did he know that while Yang Jing’s main discipline was the Mountain-Shattering Fist, he had also trained in a second martial art, bringing it all the way to the Mingjin Realm and cultivating its power!

With the two arts combined, even though Yang Jing had only recently entered the Inner Strength realm, the Inner Strength within him was scarcely weaker than that of a seasoned veteran.

"Impossible!"

Qian Feng’s heart trembled. His earlier confidence shattered in an instant, replaced by a wave of panic.

He gritted his teeth and pressed forward again, unleashing his Wind-Splitting Palm. A flurry of palm shadows descended, each strike carrying that insidious Entangling Strength. He aimed for vital points or tried to deflect Yang Jing’s force, his attacks growing increasingly crafty.

Yang Jing met his assault with composure. The movements of his Mountain-Shattering Fist were broad and sweeping, the force of his punches sharp and fierce, forming an impenetrable defense around him.

Though his Inner Strength was ferocious, he controlled it with ease. Whenever Qian Feng’s Entangling Strength tried to bind him, he would subtly alter his technique, skillfully neutralizing the force and using the momentum to counterattack, his own punches growing even faster.

The two exchanged blows on the ring, the sound of their strikes echoing ceaselessly as their figures blurred and crossed, as fast as lightning.

To an outsider, they seemed evenly matched, trading blows and counters with neither gaining an advantage. For a time, it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand.

But inwardly, Yang Jing was growing more and more confident.

He could clearly sense that while Qian Feng’s Inner Strength was insidious, it wasn’t much stronger than his own. In fact, in terms of raw power, it was actually weaker.

More importantly, he wasn’t even fully utilizing his Surging Tide Legs, having only subtly incorporated some of the technique’s fluid agility into his footwork.

Even so, the speed of his Body Technique already gave him a slight edge. Several times, just as Qian Feng’s palm was about to land, he had deftly sidestepped and sent his own fist flying toward his opponent, forcing Qian Feng into a clumsy retreat.

’Qian Feng’s Entangling Strength is impressive, but it can’t keep up with my speed.’

Yang Jing came to a realization, a sharp glint in his eyes.

He deliberately created an opening, baiting Qian Feng into striking with both palms. The Entangling Strength surged forward like a tide.

Just then, Yang Jing’s feet shifted. He silently executed the "Wave-Tumbling" move of his Surging Tide Legs. His body glided half a foot to the side like a fish through water, perfectly evading the strike. Simultaneously, his right fist, already coiled with power, shot toward Qian Feng’s ribs.

Alarmed, Qian Feng hastily tried to pull his palm back to block, but he was half a beat too slow.

With a dull THUD, the fist grazed his arm. It wasn’t a direct hit, but the fierce Inner Strength it carried sent a shock through his body, making his blood roil.

He staggered backward. Looking into Yang Jing’s calm eyes, he felt a chill creep into his heart for the first time.

This was no fledgling who’d just reached the Inner Strength realm; this was a hardened veteran, a wolf in sheep’s clothing!

To think he had looked down on him before—it was an absolute joke!

The muffled thuds of clashing fists and palms continued on the ring.

Yang Jing’s Mountain-Shattering Fist was powerful and heavy. Each punch tore through the air with a sharp whistle, forcing Qian Feng to rely on the Entangling Strength of his Wind-Splitting Palm just to deflect the blows.

And while Qian Feng’s palm strikes were as soft and dense as a net, Yang Jing always seemed to avoid the brunt of the attacks with a casual step, causing Qian Feng to repeatedly expose his own openings.

Below the ring, Shen Lie’s eyes narrowed, his fingertips tapping unconsciously against the hem of his robes.

He could see it clearly. Yang Jing’s footwork looked haphazard, but each movement was perfectly timed to exploit the tiny pauses as Qian Feng shifted techniques. His was clearly a fierce and powerful fist style, yet it possessed an uncanny agility.

That was definitely not the Body Technique that should accompany the Mountain-Shattering Fist.

"Tsk." A soft scoff escaped Shen Lie’s throat. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before quickly vanishing.

’So this Yang Jing was hiding a Body Technique? Cunning little brat.’

Mountain-Shattering Fist focuses on power, while this Body Technique focuses on agility. The two paths are fundamentally opposed, yet he dared to practice both simultaneously!

Shen Lie’s brow furrowed deeper, a feeling of irritation pricking at him.

"Idiot,"

he muttered, his eyes filled with scorn.

’When you’re young and your vitality is at its peak, you should dedicate yourself to a single discipline. Since Yang Jing chose the Mountain-Shattering Fist, he should have focused solely on that path. The Mountain-Shattering Fist had great potential, but by dividing his energy among other arts, he’s unlikely to get very far.’

’A complete waste of his innate talent.’

’For Yang Jing to have broken through to the Inner Strength realm, Shen Lie subconsciously figured his aptitude had to be at least average, if not better.’

’To neglect a perfectly good art like the Mountain-Shattering Fist and divide his focus by practicing something else... In the end, he won’t master either one. It’s pure self-sabotage!’

’Give it eight or ten years. When he still can’t even get that second art past the Mingjin Realm, let alone develop Inner Strength with it, we’ll see if he’s still smiling then.’

Shen Lie glanced back at the ring. He saw Yang Jing spin away from one of Qian Feng’s palm strikes and land a sweeping punch on his opponent’s shoulder, knocking Qian Feng staggering back. A cold sneer touched Shen Lie’s lips.

’So what if he has an extra Body Technique? What does a little more speed matter? Once he faces my Mountain-Breaking Fist—every punch aimed to shatter bone, every move designed to stick to him—we’ll see how he dodges with that flashy footwork!’

’It’ll only take three or four punches to show him what real martial arts are all about.’

He leaned back in his chair, his tapping fingers freezing in midair. His expression was a mixture of contempt and certainty. He believed he had seen through Yang Jing completely. This level of skill wasn’t even worth his attention.

On the ring, the whirlwind of fists and palms intensified. The raw power of the Mountain-Shattering Fist clashed ever more fiercely with the Entangling Strength of the Wind-Splitting Palm.

Yang Jing’s footwork was nimble, his body moving like a phantom around Qian Feng. He channeled the Inner Strength of the Mountain-Shattering Fist into his knuckles, each punch booming like distant thunder.

He spotted an opening as Qian Feng retracted a palm strike. His left fist feinted, drawing his opponent’s attention, while his right fist shot forward, the force of the punch grazing Qian Feng’s shoulder.

RIIIP! The force of the punch tore the fabric on Qian Feng’s shoulder, and a bloody gash instantly appeared.

Qian Feng cried out in pain and spun into a counterattack with his Wind-Splitting Palm, but Yang Jing used his own momentum to deftly sidestep the blow.

Before Qian Feng could regain his footing, Yang Jing had already circled behind him and drove his elbow home like a hammer, striking him squarely in the lower back.

Qian Feng grunted and stumbled forward half a step. Pain shot up his spine from his lower back, slowing his palm strikes by a fraction.

"Damn it!"

Qian Feng gritted his teeth, gathering Entangling Strength in his palms in an attempt to bind Yang Jing’s movements.

But Yang Jing’s Body Technique was astonishingly fast. Tapping his toes to the ground, he spun like a whirlwind to Qian Feng’s front. His fist grazed past Qian Feng’s ribs, and the force of the wind it generated stung his cheek.

In just a few moments, several more shallow wounds appeared on Qian Feng’s arms and torso. Though not deep, they were like a persistent poison, tugging at his flesh with every movement and making his Wind-Splitting Palm increasingly sluggish.