Ning Yao said, "Zhou Haijing's fighting is quite a sight."
One moment her fists bent like willow branches; the next, her hands seemed to hold flowers. Her figure fluttered like drifting clouds of color.
To Ning Yao, a fight between Martial Cultivators, with one throwing a punch and the other a kick, was more exciting than a spell battle between mountain Qi cultivators. As for sword cultivators challenging each other, that was rather dull.
Compared with Zhou Haijing's dazzling punches and swift movements, Yu Hong's attacks were broad and forceful. His fist intent was immense, and his astral qi circled him like several Flood Dragons. He had gained the better of several close exchanges with Zhou Haijing, shattering her bracelet and several hairpins. Yet when she slammed the top of her foot into his ribs and sent him skidding more than a dozen zhang across the Martial Arts Field, the spectators erupted in praise. The sons of nobles who could barely hold their heads up in Yichi Lane and Chier Street cheered especially loudly.
Yu Hong steadied himself and casually brushed off his clothes. Blood slowly seeped from a shallow cut on his cheek, left by Zhou Haijing's earlier hand chop. That young woman struck viciously. The chop had seemed aimed straight at his neck, but that was a feint. Her true killing move was a jab of her thumb, meant to gouge out one of his eyes. Yu Hong had not hesitated to kick at her abdomen. To shed the force and avoid having a foot driven through her body, she had been forced to retreat. Otherwise, Yu Hong would have traded an eye for the life of a Peak Realm Martial Cultivator.
Chen Ping'an still had his eyes closed, resting while he judged the punches by sound. For