The two hulking men brawled like mad, leaving Cong Shuling and Cong Renfei staring wide-eyed.
A question suddenly surfaced in their minds: "Is this what fighting looks like? Shouldn't they be attacking with Art Methods, Dharma Artifacts, shields, evasive maneuvers, and the like?"
But upon closer inspection, they realized that this kind of battle was truly brimming with violent bloodshed—and a certain beauty.
Such powerful physiques, such violently beautiful brutality, and that unrestrained release of frenzied blows made their blood surge.
When had they ever seen a fight like this?
While studying under Feng Cheng, they had always stood far apart, casting spells at one another with elegance and composure.
It was not just them. Every Transcendence practitioner across Infinite Land now fought in the same tradition, emphasizing "technique," and for a time, they had believed that this was what battle meant.
At a lower level, there was close-quarters combat with sabers and spears, but even wielding blades and guns required some technique, didn't it?
When sabers and spears danced, the movements were pleasing to the eye, graceful and fluttering.
Yet the hand-to-hand combat they were witnessing was nothing like that.
Every punch landed on flesh.
I hammer my blows wildly into your body as if forging iron, my powerful fists ravaging your frame from every angle. One punch struck the chest, and its imprint showed on the back.
Yet aside from a trickle of blood from the corner of the mouth, nothing happened. You sprang back up, still a hero, as though that world-shattering barrage had merely scraped off a thin layer of skin.
A few seconds later, you were standing again at full health, fully restored, then leaping forward to pound my iron-like body hundreds of times with flesh-on-flesh blows.
It was a contest of who had more