Lingxi Peak, halfway up the mountain, in the Training Room area.
The stone door of the Grade-C Training Room was tightly shut, sealing out the clamor outside.
Yang Jing stood in the center of the stone chamber, sinking into a firm horse stance with both fists clenched. Internal qi slowly surged through him, forming a faint white glow over his body.
He drew a deep breath, circulated his internal qi according to the principles of the Mountain-Splitting Seal, and punched. His fist cut through the air with a low, heavy howl.
The punch was fierce and domineering, carrying the force to cleave mountains and shatter stone. Even as it struck empty air, not a trace of its power scattered; his internal qi extended and retracted at will.
His movements flowed without interruption, like a fierce tiger descending a mountain, their momentum overwhelming. Every punch carried tremendous force, stirring the air inside the stone chamber into a whistling frenzy and sending dust billowing across the floor.
The longer Yang Jing practiced, the more absorbed he became. Blood and qi surged throughout his body, leaving him exhilarated.
After sparring with Fang He, he had gained an even deeper appreciation for the power of the Mountain-Splitting Seal.
The technique seemed brutally forceful, but it actually blended strength with flexibility. The deeper he delved into its practice, the more he understood its subtleties.
Judging that he had trained long enough, Yang Jing slowly withdrew his fists and exhaled a long breath of stale air. The internal qi around him gradually returned to his dantian.
He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, feeling refreshed and clearheaded. His internal qi had also grown a little more condensed.
After a brief rest, Yang Jing pushed open the stone door and left the Training