Night fell, and Tianjin Martial Arts Hall was brightly lit.
There was nothing to do before the match and no need for preparation, but out of a sense of responsibility, Zhang Yang still had Hall Master Ye compile information on their opponents.
They were now projecting it on the screen and analyzing it one by one.
"Kim Woong-ho: twenty wins and three losses in his professional career, with eight KOs..."
"Matsui Jiro: nineteen wins and two losses in his professional career, with nine KOs..."
To be fair, these combat experts at the height of their fame were all in their prime. In their respective countries and even on the world fighting stage, they were all bona fide fighting stars.
This lineup really did match his current strength.
"That's enough." Zhang Yang only gave it a cursory look, adhering to the principle that knowing oneself and one's enemy ensured victory in every battle.
But honestly, to put it bluntly, were they even worth one of his fingers?
In literature, there was no undisputed first; in martial arts, no undisputed second. His strength was beyond human, and he had mastered ten elite-level traditional martial arts styles. A little pride was not only appropriate, but perfectly justified.
"President Zhang, I heard from President Chen that in Beijing, you killed a bull with one palm strike. Is that true?" Hall Master Ye hesitated beside him before finally asking.
"Mm." Zhang Yang nodded in confirmation.
"Ah..." Hall Master Ye sucked in a sharp breath and staggered, nearly losing his footing.
A charging bull at full speed could flip over a sedan. He did not even dare imagine what would happen if a human body collided with one.
Yet in this man's eyes, it was merely a single palm strike?
In other words, if that palm