The instant Scarface began his sham countdown, Yang Jing caught the telltale flaws in his act.
He seemed to count slowly, his expression placid, but his palm had already clamped tightly around his saber's hilt. The muscles beneath his fingers remained taut, gathering strength without a moment's relaxation.
His leg muscles subtly bulged and tightened, already primed to launch him into a killing leap.
His breathing appeared steady, but was actually hurried and restrained. Murder was already brewing.
The vicious gleam and killing momentum deep in his eyes had taken shape by the third count. He had no intention of waiting at all.
Yang Jing took in every minute movement, every fluctuation of energy, and every trace of muscular tension that ordinary people would struggle to notice.
From the beginning, he had known-this man never intended to finish counting. The supposed five-count countdown was nothing but a treacherous trap meant to lull them into complacency. He would inevitably strike midway!
Having already seen through the trick and anticipated the attack, Yang Jing remained utterly composed, poised to act, wholly unaffected by the deception.
In a flash, the murderous assault erupted throughout the woods.
Scarface leaped forward, his saber gleaming with bone-chilling cold. The bandits behind him followed closely, weapons drawn and killing intent towering, about to descend upon Li Zheng's group of six and surround them.
Wind howled around them. Saber energy tore through the air, and savage force bent the surrounding vegetation.
At that critical instant, while everyone else struggled to react, a tall figure suddenly moved!
Yang Jing's mind had remained steady throughout. He had long been ready.
The rich, pure internal qi within him surged into motion. The secret power of the Heavenly Imperial Scripture quietly flowed throughout his body, channeling strength through every limb and bone.