As Zhang Heng retreated, the masked man tumbled down the stairs as well, nearly taking his companion with him. His reaction was timely enough, however, and he grabbed the handrail to steady himself.
Zhang Heng was slightly surprised. In their earlier exchange, it had looked as though he had the upper hand, but that was only because of his better position. The other man had charged up from below, leaving his body suspended in the air when he exerted force, which was why Zhang Heng had managed to knock him back down.
Yet Zhang Heng could also feel the tremendous force coming through the other side of his palm. Those two steps back had looked simple, but he had actually used them to bleed off the force from the masked man's punch. Anyone else in his place would probably have been knocked straight onto the floor.
That meant Zhang Heng was at a disadvantage in a contest of pure strength. Of course, that was because he had not used the Scales of the Mortal World. Still, he had kept up his fitness training for quite some time, and with twice as much time available to him, his strength had long surpassed that of most ordinary people.
For the masked man to overpower him in strength, and by no small margin, either meant the man was exceptionally gifted or that he had trained relentlessly since childhood.
But when the masked man charged at him again with fierce momentum, Zhang Heng ruled out the latter possibility after trading a few more moves. He could already see that the man was merely strong; in every other respect, he was ordinary. He had no real technique when fighting, and even his methods of exerting force were crude.
In other words, he threw wild haymakers.