Wang Xian wondered if they were really being that dramatic. It wasn't even the hour of the Dragon yet. Had every last one of them been losing sleep?
Who could have guessed that, despite the ten-zhang distance between them, the blacksmith would suddenly raise a hand and throw a punch.
Wang Xian jumped, thinking, If you're itching for a fight, you don't have to use me for target practice!
Without a word, he swung his palm to block the blacksmith's charge, leaned back to take the punch head-on, then used the impact to put some distance between them.
He dodged the blow, and just as the blacksmith was about to launch another attack, he called out, "How many days have you gone without sleep?"
The blacksmith laughed. "Back then, I taught you how to forge iron, but I never taught you how to throw punches like that!"
Before the words were out of his mouth, he pounced like a tiger descending the mountain, sending another punch at Wang Xian like a flood dragon striking for the heart.
If Wang Xian couldn't take the blow, he might not have his guts torn apart, but he would surely cough up a few bowls of blood and spend months in bed.
After all, the blacksmith had spent half his life at the forge. His iron fists were no empty boast.
Yet the blacksmith didn't get his way. From a great distance, Wang Xian moved like a ghost, seized his arm, and flung him sideways in one swift motion.
The blacksmith twisted in midair like a flood dragon, shifting his stance before unleashing an uncanny punch. It came at Wang Xian like thunder erupting from a clear sky.
Or perhaps it was that the stronger his opponent, the fiercer the blacksmith's excitement.
He had