"Oh? This hammer looked pretty good." Yang Xing curiously examined the Clear Sky Hammer Tang Hao had used to smash him.
Tang Hao was startled. With his wealth of combat experience, the instant his strike was blocked, he immediately used the recoil to retreat rapidly. In midair, he adjusted his angle, and the Clear Sky Hammer once again became a streak of black light, sweeping toward Yang Xing with the force of a landslide and tsunami.
Yang Xing still looked as lazily deadbeat as ever. His right hand remained in his nose, while his left hand flashed up with perfect precision and caught it firmly again.
The third attempt likewise came to nothing.
Tang Hao's expression turned grave. He retreated more than ten meters and did not continue this pointless probing.
The next moment, under Yang Xing's slightly tilted head and smiling, puzzled gaze, nine dazzling Soul Rings slowly rose from beneath Tang Hao's feet.
Yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black, red!
Terrifying Soul Power poured forth like a tsunami. The pressure of the Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Ring crushed the ground within several meters of Yang Xing into a deep pit.
Yet strangely, the small patch of ground beneath Yang Xing's feet remained completely intact. At the center of the collapsed pit, it forcibly held up a lone earthen pillar.
Standing atop the pillar, Yang Xing looked down at the surrounding collapse as though watching a monkey show and joked, "Whoa, you knew I was getting a little hot, so you specially made some wind for me?"
Tang Hao's expression changed completely.
If he had still held onto a sliver of hope before, he could now be one hundred percent certain that this young man possessed the strength of a Title Douluo!
"Which Title Douluo are you?" Tang Hao