Zhang Meng was tall and powerfully built, with a robust physique perfectly suited for a forceful, domineering fist art like the Fierce Tiger Fist.
As he unleashed the Fierce Tiger Fist, he truly resembled a tiger descending the mountain, unstoppable and overwhelming. Every move was tyrannical beyond compare, heavy and powerful.
His fist winds swept up the sand and dust from the ground with a rustling hiss. Borrowing the wind's momentum, his punches became all the more terrifying.
At first, Yang Heng did not dodge. He met Zhang Meng's attacks head-on, intending to test his strength.
He believed that after such a long run, Zhang Meng's stamina must have been depleted, and he was no longer at his peak.
Taking one punch should not have been a problem.
But when their fists collided, Yang Heng realized just how terribly wrong he had been.
What struck him did not feel like a fist of flesh and blood, but an iron fist.
Hard, and brimming with immense power.
The instant they made contact, his right hand felt as though it had slammed into a high-speed boulder. A piercing pain shot into his mind, and the flesh at the bases of his five fingers was mangled, bright red blood seeping out.
Fortunately, his body had been tempered by the Marrow Cleansing Pearl for over a month, making his bones tough enough that his finger bones did not shatter.
This injury was entirely of his own making.
After killing a martial artist, Yang Heng had become somewhat swollen with pride, thinking his opponent had been nothing special.
Reality, however, delivered him a crushing blow.
When an ordinary person encountered a martial artist, let alone gaining the upper hand, even escaping was difficult.
Having suffered for it, Yang Heng no longer acted rashly.
Relying on his formidable physical constitution, he circled around Zhang Meng, dodging at times and counterattacking at others.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
After seven or eight exchanges, Yang Heng was covered in wounds, though they were merely superficial injuries and had not harmed any vital areas.
Yang Heng silently counted himself lucky. When Zhang Meng had come after him, he had not picked up the long saber from the ground. Otherwise, Yang Heng would have been in dire straits.
He could barely fend off fists. If it had been a large saber, he would have been cleaved in two.
Whenever Zhang Meng's fist came crashing toward him, Yang Heng felt his breathing grow labored, as though a mountain were bearing down on him. He concentrated with all his might, exhausting his mind to judge the path of each punch and dodge in advance.
Whenever he had no time to evade, he brought both hands together like a pair of gates before him, blocking the blow.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
After another seven or eight exchanges, Yang Heng's arms were covered in injuries and swollen purple-blue. Beads of sweat the size of beans densely covered his forehead, dripping onto the ground. His eyes had dimmed, and his face was deathly pale.
Maintaining his focus for so long, analyzing and judging where Zhang Meng's fists would land, had drained an enormous amount of mental energy. The only reason he had endured until now was the will to survive holding him up.
Zhang Meng, on the other hand, was not faring much better.
Though the Fierce Tiger Fist was immensely powerful, it consumed a great deal of energy. At this point, he felt waves of weakness spreading through his body. His fists grew slower and slower, and their power was far inferior to before.
He knew well that this was a sign that his qi and blood were nearly burned dry.
He had thought that under the Fierce Tiger Fist's fierce assault, Yang Heng would be unable to withstand more than a few punches. Who would have thought Yang Heng's physical constitution would be so astonishing that he still had not fallen?
He began to question his life. Which of them was the martial artist?
Another heavy punch struck Yang Heng's arm, yet Zhang Meng could not feel the slightest joy.
The Yang Heng before him seemed like a silent mountain, solid as a rock. No matter how he attacked, he simply could not knock him down.
Was this really an ordinary person?
His stamina was nearly on par with a martial artist's.
Unable to prevail despite attacking for so long, Zhang Meng had considered turning back to retrieve his weapon and fight again.
But Yang Heng saw through Zhang Meng's thoughts. He clung to him relentlessly, willing to take several more punches rather than give him a chance to return for his weapon.
Bang!
Zhang Meng's fist struck Yang Heng once more, but strangely, Yang Heng smiled.
The force of the punch had weakened. Its power was not even half of what it had been before.
Yang Heng knew that Zhang Meng's stamina was nearly exhausted.
Yang Heng's eyes grew brighter and brighter, his spirit surging with excitement.
Gradually, he began to counterattack.
Bang!
Their fists collided, and fist winds burst in every direction. Fallen leaves were swept into the air, fluttering down all around them.
This time, Yang Heng did not fall into a disadvantage. He blocked Zhang Meng's attack without injury.
Zhang Meng also noticed that Yang Heng had shifted from defense to offense. His expression gradually turned ugly, and a bad premonition rose in his heart.
I might follow in Liu Xin's footsteps!
Bang!!!
Another collision came, but this time Zhang Meng was the one at a disadvantage. His body staggered, and he stumbled several steps backward.
In that flash of lightning and spark of flint, Yang Heng reacted swiftly. Seizing this rare opportunity, he took a deep breath and gathered all the strength in his body into his right hand.
In an instant, Yang Heng's right hand swelled as though inflated. Veins bulged out, like long earthworms writhing beneath his skin, an utterly horrifying sight.
"Hah!"
Yang Heng let out a thunderous roar, clenched his fingers tightly with all his strength, and smashed his fist savagely toward Zhang Meng's face.
His guard was wide open, and the sudden change caught Zhang Meng completely off guard. With no time to dodge, he could only hastily bring his hands together before him to block.
Boom!
As the heavy fist fell, Zhang Meng's face changed drastically.
He felt as though he had been rammed by a crazed wild bull. His body lifted into the air, while at the same time, an enormous force exploded against his arms.
Crack! Crack!
In midair, Zhang Meng's arm bones let out a series of explosive cracks.
From afar, the backs of his hands were a bloody mess, shattered bone jutting out as blood and bone fragments sprayed in all directions.
Bang!
Zhang Meng crashed heavily onto the ground, seeing stars as pain wracked every part of his body. Before he could properly feel it, he suddenly realized that the sky had gone dark!
As Zhang Meng flew backward, Yang Heng pressed his advantage and strode forward.
The instant Zhang Meng hit the ground, Yang Heng raised his right foot and stomped heavily toward Zhang Meng's head, giving him no chance to catch his breath.
Crack!
Another burst of bones breaking rang out.
Yang Heng's full-powered kick landed squarely on Zhang Meng's head. Under the force of several hundred pounds, Zhang Meng's skull split open, blood sprayed everywhere, and he let out a shrill, miserable howl.
"Aaaahhh!"
Zhang Meng roared in agony.
He tugged desperately at the large foot on his head with both hands, yet he could not move it in the slightest.
By now, his qi and blood were completely depleted. Not a trace of strength remained in his body, and he had weakened to the utmost limit.
Seeing that Zhang Meng was still screaming, Yang Heng could not bear to let him suffer so much.
Another heavy kick came down.
Crack...
This time, the sound was even louder.
Zhang Meng's head was stomped flat, crushed like a watermelon into a pulpy mess. Brain matter burst out, red and white splattering everywhere.
Yang Heng's shoes were covered in brain matter, and blood stained the hems of his trousers, but he did not care in the least.
Seeing Zhang Meng stop breathing and cease his wailing,
Yang Heng let out a long breath and collapsed onto the ground, gasping heavily.
He was already utterly exhausted. Lying on the ground, he did not want to move at all.
After resting for a while and recovering a little strength, he endured the pain and forced himself to his feet.
Yang Heng knew that the danger had not yet completely passed.
There was still one person left to deal with.
Li Kui!
Li Kui was the chief culprit behind today's bloody fight. If he did not kill him, Yang Heng would not be at ease.
These two were young, yet their martial arts were extraordinary. There might be martial artists behind them, and Yang Heng had no desire to kill the young only for the old to come seeking vengeance.
If the young were already this remarkable, the old need not even be mentioned. There was a great chance that they were martial artists.
Yang Heng had experienced a martial artist's power from Shopkeeper Chen.
The current him was still far from being a match for a martial artist.
Without the slightest hesitation, Yang Heng picked up a long saber and returned the way he had come.
As for the things on the two men, there was no need to rush. He could return and take them later.
This was desolate wilderness, and it was night besides. Few people ever came here.
After walking back roughly two li, Yang Heng spotted a figure lying beside the roots of a tree in the distance, resting.
When he drew closer, he saw that it was Li Kui!
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