The scene fell deathly silent.
Chen Zhang's eyes were wide as saucers, staring fixedly at the distant scene.
"N-No, Old Ye, are the wooden dummies at your place made of brittle wood?" His Adam's apple bobbed, his lips slightly dry.
"They're made from refined hardwood! They don't crack or warp—they're harder than tree stumps!" Director Ye held out both hands, trembling a little. "That was the power to kill a bull with a single palm strike! So traditional martial arts, when cultivated to the extreme, can truly reach such a realm? The ancients truly did not deceive us!"
He even began to suspect that the legends passed down by martial arts grandmasters from centuries ago were real.
Wasn't there a living example right before his eyes?
In truth, Zhang Yang himself did not know whether traditional martial arts could really be trained to such a level. He only knew that the effect of his punch was the result of combining his formidable strength with his ultimate exertion technique.
Ten forms of traditional martial arts had allowed him to grasp the secrets of how human muscles generated force, letting him gather the strength of his entire body and unleash it at a single point.
That was why the wooden dummy, sturdier than a tree stump, had shattered under his fist into fiber-like fragments.
"T-Terrifying indeed." Chen Zhang stood there tongue-tied for a long while before finally uttering those widely known four words.
Previously, he had merely taken a liking to Zhang Yang's skills and found him agreeable, so he had simply wanted to make a friend. But now, even with his pride, he could not help but feel admiration, awe, and even respect.
This had nothing to do with family background. It was the pure, instinctive reverence one human felt for