Sun Yong had been gazing absently toward the seventh arena. At her words, he turned back, saw her reddened eyes, and waved a hand. "It's all right."
Qi Yun froze for a moment. Her taut nerves suddenly relaxed, and tears nearly spilled from her eyes. She hurriedly nodded. "Yes, Master."
She quietly stepped aside, still brooding over her defeat, but the disciples' excited chatter drifted into her ears.
"Senior Brother Yang Jing is incredible! He actually beat Qian Feng!"
"Exactly! He's already in the fifth round, fighting for first place!"
"Who would've thought? He always practices his punches so quietly at the Martial Arts Hall, barely ever saying a word, but once he gets into the arena, he can really fight!"
The words struck Qi Yun's ears like needles. She abruptly raised her head and stared at the disciples in disbelief. "You mean... Yang Jing?"
The seventh arena.
The second bout of the fourth round had already begun.
Fists whistled through the air, sending force spilling in all directions.
Shen Lie and Chen Wu darted past each other on the platform, every collision carrying a tremendous force that shook the spectators to their cores.
Shen Lie's Pashan Fist swept through broad, forceful arcs. His punches were heavy and fierce as raging waves battering the shore, each strike cracking sharply through the air. Hidden strength gathered at his knuckles, lending him an oppressive presence.
He pressed forward relentlessly, steadily shrinking the space available on the platform until Chen Wu could only maneuver within a tiny patch.
Chen Wu's Through-the-Back Fist followed a hard, ferocious approach. His arms lashed like whips, their sweeping movements stirring gusts that sounded like tearing silk, his techniques fierce beyond compare.
Knowing how overbearing Shen Lie's Pashan Fist was, he simply abandoned defense and met attack with