Yi Yang's mental power had already captured the trajectories of both attacks within the first half-breath.
He shifted his body half a foot to the right, avoiding the area covered by Palm Wind.
He held Mysterious Abyss across his chest, blocking the Vajra Fist with the spine of the blade.
Boom.
A muffled explosion burst from the blade's surface, and the shock wave swept a ring of rubble into the air.
Yi Yang's five organs shuddered. A sweet, metallic taste rose in his mouth, and he swallowed it back down.
He retreated five steps.
His heels sank into the mud.
This was true astral perfection.
His opponent had not even summoned a phantom formed from astral force. With physical strength and martial techniques alone, his power already far surpassed that of the demon beasts Yi Yang had fought before.
Yi Yang swallowed the bloody taste in his mouth and lowered Mysterious Abyss beside him.
I can't just keep taking hits. If someone at true astral perfection keeps crushing me like this, I'll break sooner or later.
Nine Peaks Saber Art, Perfection Peak.
Although it was only a superior martial technique, it could still unleash considerable power in Yi Yang's hands.
The cutting edge traced a blue-green arc.
The strike came at a vicious angle, slicing toward the opening beneath Xuanyi's armpit that lasted less than half a breath after he withdrew his fist.
Within his hundred-zhang mental power field, Yi Yang registered every contraction of Xuanyi's muscles, every flow of true astral force through his meridians, and the hair-thin opening between the withdrawal of his right fist and the change of his left palm's attack.
But Xuanyi was a veteran powerhouse whose reputation had been established for years, and his reaction was exceptionally fast.
He leaned his torso back three