The moment he finished speaking, the youth charged straight at him, swinging a fist at Lu Zheng's face.
Lu Zheng only saw the other's figure flash. Though his speed was not especially fast, an invisible pressure bore down on him.
That aura was faint, appearing and vanishing. Most people would probably have thought only that the other party was too fast for them to evade.
What was this? Lu Zheng's eyes flickered, and he raised a hand to meet the youth's punch.
Bang!
The youth staggered back five steps, his arm numb and aching. Yet Lu Zheng was even more shocked, because without using Martial Blood Qi, he had actually been forced back two steps as well.
After all, he had added several strands of Light of Luck to his physique. In terms of pure strength, few ordinary people could surpass him now.
The youth looked thin and weak, so how did he possess such tremendous strength? Was he born with divine strength?
"Again!"
The youth shouted and lunged at him bodily.
Lu Zheng narrowed his eyes. His body shook, and a dense aura surged up around him. His blood and qi flowed like mercury, his momentum like the rising sun.
Shen Ying, who had been calmly watching the show from the side, could not help crying out, "Martial Blood Qi? The Mountain Carrying Eighteen Forms? You've mastered it?"
In the eyes of the youth surnamed Hu, Lu Zheng seemed like a blazing sun, waves of heat rolling forth as it pressed down upon him.
Bang!
With one punch, the youth surnamed Hu had no power to resist. Like a rolling gourd, he tumbled several yards away with a series of rolls, then slammed into a tree before finally stopping.
"A martial artist!"
"A Martial Cultivator!"
"Run!"
The three young