Li Su stared in astonishment at the chunks of flesh and shattered bones scattering before him, somewhat at a loss.
Mainly because he had never expected the person who appeared to be so fragile.
This punch had been more of a probe. Though it looked like an incomparably fierce strike, it actually contained countless variations, even incorporating the strongest mental art of his people in a gentler form—the tactics of guerrilla warfare.
That was: when the enemy advanced, he retreated; when the enemy encamped, he harassed; when the enemy tired, he struck; when the enemy retreated, he pursued.
In other words, within that simple straight punch lay one hundred and eighty-nine follow-up variations, forty-nine possible responses, and thirty-six hypothetical situations.
Not only that, he had held back as much as possible in his use of strength, without unleashing his greatest burst. The muscle groups he had engaged amounted to only thirty or forty percent of his entire body.
With insufficient power, his speed naturally had not reached its limit either, and he had not even had time to employ any of his techniques.
It could be said that no matter how astonishing a method his opponent displayed, Li Su could have dealt with it calmly and launched a counterattack without the slightest haste.
But he had never expected that with one punch, his opponent would simply explode!
No, wasn't this strength just too pathetic?
Leaving aside everything else, his use of muscles alone had been abysmal. If Li Su himself had taken such a punch head-on, he could still have used more than thirty techniques from the Hundred Beasts Fighting Art—such as Snake Movement Transformation, Bear Hide Fur, and Boar Bristle Fur—to vibrate his body and dissipate the damage from the blow.
Yet the man before him had been like