But after a full hour of beating him, Xia Ping still hadn't suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, the people pummeling him were all completely exhausted, as if their girlfriends had drained them dry seven or eight times. They couldn't muster an ounce of strength.
Thud! Thud! Thud!!!
One disciple after another collapsed to the ground, panting heavily and drenched in sweat. They were utterly spent.
Even the few disciples with more stamina were still attacking Xia Ping, but their punches had grown so feeble they might as well have been a baby's.
"What's wrong? Can't keep going? What's the matter with you? Didn't you say you were the elite of Wuwei Martial Hall? You've only been at it for an hour, and you're already out of strength. What kind of training is this?"
Xia Ping was very unhappy. He'd been enjoying himself just now as his strength gradually increased. The unparalleled rush felt incredible—better than a massage.
But now these people were out of strength. Their blows weren't doing a thing to help him train; they were just buzzing around like flies, annoying him.
The people from Wuwei Martial Hall were utterly aggrieved to hear that. But they really had no strength left—not even enough to yell back.
They were at their wits' end. This kid was a monster! More than a hundred of them had taken turns beating him, yet the guy was completely unharmed. They hadn't even managed to make him take a single step back.
After an hour of fighting, they were the ones left exhausted, while their opponent was still full of energy. They were completely convinced now. No wonder even their senior disciple, Yao Zhong, hadn't been able to beat him.
"He still hasn't reacted at all? Looks like these people really are