Fu Mountain Square, atop the arena.
Fierce winds howled and dust flew as the battle between Yang Jing and Bai Ziyu reached fever pitch.
A faint golden halo surrounded Yang Jing. His fists carried the tremendous power of Three Streams of Internal Qi fused together, his attacks surging like a tide, every strike aimed straight at a vital spot. He held the absolute upper hand throughout, bearing down on Bai Ziyu like a tiger descending the mountain.
Though Bai Ziyu moved nimbly, his Wind-Chasing Steps sending him darting and weaving across the arena like a phantom, he could never shake off Yang Jing's pursuit.
He could only rely on his superior speed to narrowly escape Yang Jing's follow-up attacks after each clash of fist and claw, scrambling away without any chance to counterattack.
Yet even those brief clashes forced Bai Ziyu to endure the overwhelmingly powerful internal qi crashing from Yang Jing's fists.
That internal qi was fierce and forceful, with a trace of insidious cunning. The instant fist met claw, it invaded his meridians, stirring through his internal energy like steel needles.
Each impact worsened his injuries, threw his internal qi further into disorder, and sent his condition plummeting.
Even the speed of his Wind-Chasing Steps suffered. His movements grew increasingly sluggish, and more and more openings appeared.
They exchanged another dozen or so moves, fist shadows and claw winds colliding across the arena with a series of deep, thunderous booms.
This time, Yang Jing seized an opening in Bai Ziyu's faltering footwork and drove a fist straight into the heart of his defenses, striking the center of his clawed palm.
An even more domineering surge of internal qi flooded in. Bai Ziyu felt as though a massive boulder had crushed every organ in his body, the pain unbearable.