Wang Anfeng saw that all the martial artists were intimidated by him; his heart slowly cald, and he took the initiative. His right hand slightly lifted, ready to draw his sword and subdue the remaining few people.
But at that mont, he sensed a faint murderous intent from afar, fleeting in an instant. For a short mont, he felt a slight chill and understood that the person harboring the intent to kill him was not weak, certainly not comparable to the martial artists before him.
If he were to draw his sword directly, his back would be wide open—a perfect opportunity for a sneak attack.
With thoughts racing in his mind, his palm paused slightly. He did not lift his wooden sword, but casually clenched his fist and let it rest at his side.
At the sa ti, he lightly tapped his toe on a nearby Wolf Fang Club, exerting a slight force. This heavy weapon soared more than a ter high and he caught it in his hand. Even for soone with the physique of Wang Anfeng, wielding such a heavy weapon with just his arms was unsustainable.
He now half crouched, with the Wolf Fang Club partially touching the ground, dragging and pulling it as he stepped forward. His movents were odd, but they exuded a fierce air that involuntarily made the two onlookers take a step back, their faces filled with even greater terror.
This stance was also sothing Wang Anfeng had seen in Copper Man Lane. When it ca to circulating Inner Strength, he was clueless, but in terms of exerting muscle strength, he had been smashed by this technique not a thousand tis, then eight hundred. If he still could not grasp it, he feared that Master Ying would label him useless and prescribe additional training.
Now dragging the Wolf Fang Club forward at a slow pace, with every step he took, the two n retreated a step. This kind of battlefield weapon’s effectiveness relied heavily on montum; their spirits were already broken, totally incapable of combat, while Wang Anfeng’s aura grew increasingly fierce. With this rise and fall, the outco of the battle was already determined without a fight.
Just then, Wang Anfeng suddenly accelerated his steps and within the blink of an eye, he was just a few steps away from the two martial artists. Suddenly he yelled sharply, twisted his body to exert force, and the Wolf Fang Club swung up ferociously, imitating the ’Carrying Pole Hamr thod’—an evil wind hit their faces. The two martial artists turned pale, yelped, and fell backward, certain that they could not avoid being hit and their bodies trembled incessantly.
Yet, the Wolf Fang Club did not actually strike them.
Wang Anfeng’s steps shifted suddenly, and with the leverage of his waist and legs, he swung the weapon back again, his montum becoming even more violent. Just then, a figure soared up and fell exactly within the range of the Wolf Fang Club. The young man looked up and saw a towering figure with a square, commanding face, yet with thin eyebrows and lips, full of cold indifference.
Wang Anfeng thought he heard an exclamation of "Young Master" near his ears, recognizing that the person’s status was extraordinary; yet, he hesitated not a mont, channeling his Inner Strength into the heavy weapon to enhance its force. anwhile, the young man in midair, originally planning a surprise attack, found himself suddenly countered and restricted, unable to dodge.
And the weapon was not as light and nimble as a longsword, being extrely heavy and large. Now swinging horizontally, the fierce wind enveloped the young man—if it struck true, serious injuries to muscles and bones were inevitable.
In such a situation, he did not lose his composure; while in midair, he suddenly roared and thrust his right fist forward. The style of his fist technique was upright and forceful; even Wang Anfeng, his adversary, secretly admired it in his heart.
The young man’s mastery of boxing was not inferior to his; a punch landed directly on the weakest part of the Wolf Fang Club. In an instant, Wang Anfeng felt a massive surge of Inner Strength rushing towards him like lava or a sea of fire, causing him to stagger backwards a few steps.
His right foot heavily stomped into the cobblestone, his body’s Inner Strength stirred into action. Relying on the pure and vast foundation laid by Liu Wuqiu years ago, and the imnse expanse of the Shaolin Golden Bell Shield, he barely managed to counter his opponent without being outdone.
The wealthy rchant who had used Qinggong to approach saw the two n, one above and one below, both with stern expressions, swaying bodies, and robust Vigorous Qi. It was clear that the previous sneak attack had failed and had transford into a direct and perilous competition of Inner Strength. One misstep might result in injuries on both sides; he imdiately fell silent, not daring to approach, his astonishnt growing ever greater.
As far as he knew, this Young Master had shown extraordinary martial arts talent from a young age, described as a rare gem, one in a thousand, and had later received the all-out instruction of several masters. His own sect’s martial arts were as difficult to learn as controlling a blazing fire, hard to master initially but progressing rapidly later on, much like a fire that once started with continual fuel can only burn more intensely.
Although he had not entered the Great Qin Constellation Ranking List in those years, he had firmly and steadily progressed, entering the realm of Eighth Rank martial artists at the age of twenty-three. With another year since then, his Inner Strength must have considerably advanced, no longer comparable to before. However, during this pure competition of Inner Strength, he surprisingly did not hold the upper hand.
The Internal Force Cultivation of that repository keeper had just stepped into the Ninth Grade, had it not?
Could it be that he had now beco an Eighth Rank martial artist?
In this mont of concern and confusion, the more he thought, the more terrified he beca. Looking at Wang Anfeng, his gaze was full of wariness, feeling that this young martial artist, who seed clear of any dubious background during the investigation, possessed an unfathomable depth. Even his calm smile seed to carry an indiscernible hint of mockery, unsettling him deeply.
anwhile, Wang Anfeng’s forehead also began to show so fine sweat.
The opposing martial artist’s vigorous qi was overwhelming, and his Inner Strength burned intensely like fire. With a foundation as robust as Buddhism’s diamond, even such fiery Inner Force hinted at suppression, but the Golden Bell Shield was profoundly sophisticated and currently only slightly affected.
However, if he were to encounter similar top-tier Inner Strength in the future, under the scorching flas that could reach the heavens, it was uncertain how much the Golden Bell Shield would be affected. With this thought, he felt a slight heaviness.
As for the contest of Inner Strength at this mont...
He would engage in at least ten such contests each day in Copper Man Lane.
Initially, he was often severely injured, coughing blood, unable to continue fighting. However, for so unknown reason, the injuries he sustained in Copper Man Lane always healed quickly without leaving any lingering damage. Over ti, he grew unafraid of the contests of Inner Strength that ordinary martial artists feared like tigers.
According to his third Master, getting used to coughing blood was just a matter of persistence.
Proficiency leads to dexterity, and dexterity brings about finesse. Thus, Wang Anfeng was far less cautious than his opponent at this mont. One of the major thods Mr. Ying taught him to cultivate Inner Strength was to fight against formidable enemies in Copper Man Lane, depleting his Inner Strength, and then ditating in a state of emptiness in his Dantian, which would result in purer and more resilient new Inner Strength.
After a long ti, his Inner Strength beca extrely resilient and he could manifest it at will. Upon confirming that the opponent’s Inner Strength was close to his own, the Inner Strength in his palm suddenly changed.
Wei Qi was surprised at the robustness of Wang Anfeng’s Inner Strength but did not take it seriously. His own Inner Strength was also cultivated through arduous ditation and considered second to none. Just as he thought he understood the extent of his opponent’s Inner Strength, the force transmitted from one end of the Wolf Fang Club suddenly changed dramatically.
Sotis light, sotis heavy, veering left then right, suddenly as fierce as fire, then in the blink of an eye, as gentle as breeze—variations abounded.
At this mont, as both competed in Inner Strength, their forces entangled. As the other’s changed, his had to adapt, causing him to feel a stifling sensation in his chest, nausea, and his Inner Breath beca chaotic, causing his complexion to turn slightly pale.
The wealthy rchant, observing rapidly, sensed trouble. Alard at the depth of Wang Anfeng’s Inner Strength Cultivation, he was also anxious. Deciding that should the Young Master face any mishap, he himself would not fare well and might even et with disaster.
Imdiately, he gritted his teeth, leaped up, and charged toward Wang Anfeng. His movent technique suggested he was an Eighth Rank martial artist. With his right hand, he summoned a huge amount of qi force, drawing a Wolf Fang Club from the ground into his hand and swung it down viciously toward Wang Anfeng’s shoulder.
The young man’s heart sank at the rchant’s decisive action, which was beyond his expectations, yet he felt no unease. His Inner Strength abruptly retracted, intending to dodge when the rchant swung his weapon. He planned to take advantage of the mont the rchant’s old strength was exhausted and his new strength hadn’t arisen, to subdue him.
As for how to execute this, Wang Anfeng could only sigh, feeling a touch of lancholy.
His third Master, though unconventional, often spoke sense.
For example, getting used to contests of Inner Strength was just a matter of persistence.
Just as he was preparing to disengage, suddenly a sharp force unexpectedly surged diagonally. Even with Wang Anfeng’s sensitivity, he failed to notice any anomaly before its appearance. In an instant, the rchant had stopped in his tracks, his eyes showing terror.
The Wolf Fang Club in his hand snapped with a crack, breaking into two smooth, mirror-like pieces, one of which fell to the ground. On his body, sharp sword marks appeared, cutting through his clothing at the chest to create seven crisscrossing lines, each neither more nor less than needed, as if ticulously asured.
Seeing this scene, everyone present felt a shift in their hearts.
Who?!
PS: Chapter one presented
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