Chapter 105 - 63: He Dares to Kill Me? He Wants to Kill Me?

Dust billowed across the arena as the wind from their fists and the afterimages of their strikes wove together into an impenetrable wall of air.

Shen Lie’s Mountain-Breaking Fist grew increasingly ferocious. Every punch he threw tore through the air with a piercing shriek, and wherever the edge of his fist passed, the thick wooden posts at the arena’s edge shuddered, shedding splinters.

He stared intently at Yang Jing’s elusive figure, the veins on his temples bulging. Inner Strength surged wildly through his meridians, yet he was always just a hair’s breadth from landing a hit.

Yang Jing was like a gust of wind. Just as he was about to be enveloped by the force of a punch, he would tap his toes on the edge of the arena, his form drifting diagonally over ten feet away to land about three feet behind Shen Lie.

BANG!

Shen Lie whirled around and punched, but his fist met only empty air, embedding itself deep into the wooden floorboards of the arena and sending splinters flying.

He violently wrenched his fist free. His knuckles were already turning red, and his breathing had grown ragged.

They had already exchanged nearly a hundred moves. His Inner Strength, which had initially been a raging flood from an opened dam, was now showing signs of depletion. Each time he gathered his power, it was more difficult than the last.

Yang Jing, however, remained completely at ease.

His footwork was so fast it was a blur of afterimages. At times he skimmed past Shen Lie’s fists like a dragonfly skipping over water; at others, he used the momentum of Shen Lie’s swings to circle around to his side. On the rare occasions their fists met, he always used his Body Technique to cleverly deflect a portion of the punch’s power.

Whenever Shen Lie tried to build up power for a killing blow, Yang Jing would immediately retreat, denying him any chance of a direct confrontation. The moment Shen Lie’s technique lost its momentum, Yang Jing would press in again, clinging to him like an unshakable shadow and constantly harassing him.

"Do you dare to face me head-on?!"

Shen Lie could finally take no more. He abruptly pulled back his fist and took half a step back, his chest heaving violently as sweat dripped from his jaw onto the arena floor. "You damn coward! What kind of skill is just dodging all the time?!"

Yang Jing halted on the other side of the arena. He was breathing a little heavily, but his gaze was calm as he looked back at Shen Lie. There was no anger in his eyes, only a hint of barely perceptible mockery, as if he were observing a simple-minded brute who didn’t know how to adapt.

He flexed his wrists lightly, and his voice, though not loud, carried clearly across the stage. "In the Martial Dao, speed and Body Technique are a fundamental part of one’s strength. Do I have to take your fists head-on for it to count as skill?"

Shen Lie was rendered speechless, a frustrated breath caught in his chest. He was so furious he felt he could spit fire.

He looked at Yang Jing’s calm and composed demeanor, then at his own aching, numb arms and his steadily emptying Dantian. A wave of pure frustration shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

His opponent hadn’t used any real killing blows, hadn’t even properly fought back, yet he couldn’t land a single hit. Meanwhile, his own Inner Strength was draining away like water from a leaky bucket.

This feeling of having strength but being unable to use it was ten times more infuriating than being defeated in a direct confrontation!

He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. A low, bestial growl rumbled in his throat, but all he could do was watch helplessly as Yang Jing began to move again.

The figure was still impossibly fast, circling and weaving around him. Whenever Shen Lie tried to retreat and catch his breath, Yang Jing would press the attack, toying with him like a beast trapped in a cage.

"Damn it... Damn it!"

Shen Lie’s expression was grim as he lunged forward again, but his punches were a fraction slower than before, and the openings in his form were becoming more and more obvious.

Yang Jing’s eyes narrowed, but he remained patient, continuing to deal with the attacks.

They exchanged several dozen more blows. Shen Lie’s breathing grew heavier, and a hint of sluggishness crept into his every punch. The ferocious momentum of his Mountain-Breaking Fist had lost more than half its power.

Veins bulged on his forehead, and his face grew pale from the excessive drain on his Inner Strength. His footwork began to falter, and the stance that had once been as firm as a boulder was now unsteady.

Yang Jing’s movements, by contrast, remained nimble. His Raging Wave kicks struck the arena floor with a light, rhythmic tapping.

He keenly sensed that the Dark Energy behind Shen Lie’s punches was weakening, and the tremors in his opponent’s arms during blocks were becoming more pronounced.

’His opponent’s Inner Strength should be just about spent.’

’The time has come.’

A sharp glint flashed in Yang Jing’s eyes. His footwork changed in an instant; he was no longer just weaving and dodging.

Like a bolt of azure lightning, he shot forward instead of retreating, charging straight toward Shen Lie’s centerline.

He abruptly unleashed the "Earth-Splitter" technique of his Mountain-Shattering Fist. The punch carried the roar of distant thunder. He held nothing back, each strike aimed at a weak point in Shen Lie’s defense.

Shen Lie’s heart seized. He instinctively raised his arm to block, only to feel an immense, irresistible force slam into him. His arm was instantly jolted numb, and his own Inner Strength crashed chaotically through his meridians, causing a suffocating tightness in his chest.

Only then did he realize, to his horror, that Yang Jing had imperceptibly switched from defense to offense. The power behind that punch was several times stronger than it had been during their earlier probing exchanges!

’Not good!’

Shen Lie cursed inwardly. He tried to retreat to create distance, but was pinned down by Yang Jing’s Raging Wave Kicks. Yang Jing’s superior agility allowed him to stick to Shen Lie like glue.

Yang Jing stuck to him like a persistent shadow. He feinted with his left fist to draw Shen Lie’s attention, while his right leg had already lashed out like a whip, whistling through the air as it swept toward his opponent’s side.

Shen Lie twisted desperately to dodge but was still caught by the force of the kick, causing him to stagger.

Yang Jing seized the fleeting opening, driving his right fist forward. With a dull THUD, it landed squarely on Shen Lie’s chest.

"Gah—"

Shen Lie could no longer hold it in, spraying a mouthful of fresh blood. His body flew backward like a kite with its string cut, slamming hard into the railing at the edge of the arena. With a loud CRACK, the railing itself bent slightly from the impact.

He clutched his chest, struggling to get up, his eyes filled with bitter indignation.

’I’m at the Peak of Dark Energy, one of the best at this level! How could I lose to some punk who just reached Dark Energy a short while ago?’

’And I still had aces up my sleeve—killing blows that could instantly unleash nearly double my Inner Strength. But right now, my Dantian is utterly empty. I can’t even summon a single shred of Inner Strength. My trump cards are as useless as scrap metal.’