Qian Feng’s face flushed red, then drained to a deathly white before turning ashen.

He stared fixedly at Yang Jing’s elusive figure, a storm of disbelief raging in his heart.

’How is this possible? How can this kid’s Body Technique be so fast!’

’He seemed so unremarkable before. Could he have been hiding his strength this whole time?’

The agility in his footwork didn’t resemble that of someone who had just reached the Dark Energy realm at all. Every change in direction landed perfectly in the gaps between his palm strikes, as if Yang Jing could see right through his moves.

’If this keeps up, I won’t even have a chance to use the entangling energy I’m so proud of. I’ll just be a sitting duck!’

Humiliation and panic wrapped around his heart like vines, causing his palm strikes to grow erratic.

Outside the ring, Sun Ningxiang shot up from her chair, her hands clutching her skirt tightly, her eyes wide as saucers.

Seeing Yang Jing constantly on the defensive earlier, she had already prepared a comforting speech in her mind.

Phrases like, "Winning and losing are all part of the game," and "You’ll get them next time."

But now, the situation on the platform had completely reversed. Yang Jing’s figure was as fast as lightning, each punch precisely tearing through Qian Feng’s defense. The accumulated injuries were slowly eating away at Qian Feng’s resistance. The advantage was so obvious that even she, who wasn’t a Dark Energy expert, could see it clearly.

"He... He’s actually..."

Sun Ningxiang mumbled to herself, the astonishment nearly overflowing from her face.

’I thought I was about to console a loser, but instead, am I about to witness a stunning, decisive reversal?’

She gazed at Yang Jing’s agile yet ferocious figure, the comforting words she’d prepared stuck in her throat, replaced by silent awe.

The sound of fists and palms colliding on the platform grew louder, each impact striking her heart and making her lean forward, terrified of missing a single moment.

...

On the fighting platform.

Qian Feng’s palm strikes had fallen into complete disarray.

The mounting injuries caused his Inner Strength to stagnate, making it impossible to gather the entangling energy for his Wind-Splitting Palm. The openings in his flurry of palm strikes grew wider and wider.

Panic sprouted in his heart like wild weeds. The certainty in his eyes had long been replaced by frantic desperation, and his breathing grew heavy and ragged. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Just then, Yang Jing’s speed suddenly surged.

He seized the instant Qian Feng retracted a Wind-Splitting Palm. His Raging Wave Legs technique erupted with power, and his body shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, closing the distance and pressing in close, almost brushing against the wind from Qian Feng’s palm.

Qian Feng was horrified. He hurriedly tried to bring his palm back to protect his chest, but he was a step too late.

Yang Jing’s fist, carrying the ferocious Dark Energy of Mountain-Shattering Stone-Splitting, broke through his central guard like a sledgehammer. With a dull THUD, it landed solidly on his chest.

Qian Feng felt an immense force wash over him, as if he’d been hit by a stampeding bull. His blood roiled in his veins, and a metallic, sweet taste rose in his throat.

He instinctively retreated, trying to create distance and regroup, but Yang Jing gave him no such chance.

The second fist followed instantly, its angle cunning, aimed straight for his heart!

This punch was faster and fiercer. The Dark Energy was condensed to its absolute limit, and under the sun, the surface of his fist seemed to glow with a faint white light.

Qian Feng had no way to dodge. He could only watch helplessly as the fist grew larger before his eyes and his chest took another heavy blow.

"WAAH—"

Qian Feng couldn’t hold it in any longer. He spat out a mouthful of blood and was sent flying sideways like a kite with a snapped string. He crashed hard against the ropes at the edge of the platform before bouncing back onto the blue brick floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He struggled to get up but found that his bones felt like they’d been rattled apart. The pain in his chest was unbearable, his Inner Strength had completely dissipated, and he didn’t even have the strength to lift a hand.

Yang Jing stood his ground, pulling back his fist. His breathing was slightly ragged and his heart was racing, but his eyes remained calm and steady.

’In a fight between those at the Dark Energy level, victory and defeat are often decided in an instant. To be merciful to the enemy is to be cruel to yourself.’ He had used his full power in those last two punches.

Qian Feng lay on the ground, staring up at the sky as blood trickled continuously from the corner of his mouth.

A colossal wave of despair washed over him.

He had been so sure he had this young man, a newly-promoted Dark Energy practitioner, in the bag. He had been calculating how to win with minimal injury. But reality had dealt him a harsh slap in the face.

He recalled Yang Jing’s nimble Body Technique and the ferocious Dark Energy in his fists, which was no weaker than his own. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

’So the kid was hiding his true strength all along!’

’His earlier composure wasn’t an act. He truly had the confidence to back it up!’

’In the face of his opponent’s power and speed, my prized Wind-Splitting Palm was ultimately defeated.’

"I... give up."

Qian Feng forced out the three words, his voice hoarse and filled with an indescribable mix of emotions.

There was unwillingness, humiliation, and also a trace of horror at Yang Jing’s true strength.

He turned his head to look at Yang Jing, who stood in the center of the platform. The sunlight outlined his young yet composed silhouette. He suddenly understood that from the very beginning, he had underestimated this quiet, almost low-key opponent.

The platform fell silent, the only sounds being Qian Feng’s heavy gasps and the occasional gurgle of coughed-up blood.

At that moment, the middle-aged man in the Official’s uniform walked onto the platform. His gaze swept over the pathetic figure of the fallen Qian Feng and the composed Yang Jing, a flash of astonishment in his eyes. He quickly cleared his throat and announced in an authoritative voice, "Round Four, Match One: Yang Jing of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall is the victor!"

As his voice fell, a brief silence descended upon the crowd below and outside the nearby railings, which was then broken by a buzzing wave of discussion.

All eyes snapped to Yang Jing as he walked off the platform. Looks of surprise, disbelief, and scrutiny pierced him like a thousand invisible needles.

No one had expected this outcome.

Before this, Yang Jing had been nothing more than an inconspicuous Dark Energy Martial Artist in everyone’s eyes. His record was average, his disposition was quiet, and he had no reputation to speak of—the kind of person who wouldn’t make a ripple if you tossed him into a crowd.