Qian Feng's face went from red to white, then turned an iron gray.
He stared fixedly at Yang Jing's elusive figure, disbelief surging through his heart like towering waves in a raging sea.
How was this possible? How could this kid's footwork be so fast?
He had looked so unremarkable before. Had he been hiding his abilities all along?
The nimbleness of those shifting steps was nothing like that of someone who had just entered Hidden Strength. Every change of direction landed precisely in a gap between his palm strikes, as though Yang Jing could see right through his moves.
If this went on, the entangling force he took such pride in would have no chance to work. He would be reduced to taking a beating!
Humiliation and panic wound around his heart like vines, throwing even the gusts from his palms into disarray.
Outside the railing, Sun Ningxiang sprang out of her chair, clutching her skirt tightly with both hands, her eyes wide and round.
Earlier, when she had seen Yang Jing consistently on the defensive, she had already prepared words of comfort in her mind.
Things like "victory and defeat are commonplace in war" and "try harder next time."
But now, the situation in the ring had completely reversed. Yang Jing moved like lightning, every punch precisely tearing through Qian Feng's defenses. His accumulated injuries were steadily eating away at his ability to resist. The advantage was so obvious that even she, who was not a Hidden Strength expert, could see it clearly.
"He... he actually..."
Sun Ningxiang murmured to herself, astonishment almost spilling off her face.
She had thought she would be comforting the loser. Who would have imagined she would instead witness such a thoroughly satisfying turnaround?
Watching Yang Jing's nimble yet powerful figure, she found