If this continued, Shi Poxiao would be unable to break free, and even the outcome of this battle would become impossible to predict.
It was not just him; the other cultivators also frowned slightly.
With their keen eyes, they could naturally see Shi Poxiao's current predicament.
Falling into Shadow Fiend's rhythm would only hasten his exhaustion and bring him no benefit whatsoever.
So if Shi Potian wanted to win now, he had to seize the initiative on the battlefield and reclaim his own fighting rhythm.
Otherwise, he would truly be in danger.
At this moment, the cheers from Origin Continent began to die down.
Everyone had seen it.
Shi Poxiao was wasting his strength for nothing; every punch he threw was striking empty air.
Shadow Fiend was like a hawk circling a boulder, pecking relentlessly yet never closing in for a direct clash.
He was deliberately wearing Shi Poxiao down.
"You're wasting your strength."
Shadow Fiend's voice drifted near and far, left and right.
"I can stab you a hundred times and you'll be fine, but throw a hundred punches and you should be tired."
"Ordinary punches cannot take my life. You can only go all out with every strike. Such attacks overload your body—how much longer can you last?"
Shi Poxiao panted heavily, his eyes bloodshot.
He suddenly stopped, letting his arms hang at his sides as he stood still and allowed Shadow Fiend's blade to leave pale marks across his body.
He closed his eyes.
"Hm?"
Shadow Fiend's blade paused slightly.
In that instant of hesitation, Shi Poxiao suddenly opened his eyes, his right hand shooting out at an angle entirely different from before.
He did not grab toward the direction the voice had come from, but toward the empty space three feet behind him.
His palm and