Zhang Xiaohua's opponent had an abacus clacking away in his heart. A person's strength would eventually run dry, and naturally could not last forever. Zhang Xiaohua was no exception.
But how long one could last depended on the person.
In his previous match, Zhang Xiaohua had nearly exhausted himself to death because he had squandered his strength at the start. Naturally, he was now carefully rationing his energy. Seeing his opponent do nothing but circle around, he used feints to the fullest—from seven real moves and three feints at first, to seven feints and three real moves later, and finally ten feints in a row. Since you weren't attacking anyway, why should I go all out?
Moreover, Zhang Xiaohua had just practiced the Big Dipper Divine Fist, and his entire body brimmed with strength. He was even stronger than when he had first stepped onto the stage. How could such a state be depleted in merely two or three incense sticks' worth of time?
Thus, another scene that Zhang Xiaohu found hard to believe appeared on the arena: Zhang Xiaohua was actually chasing his opponent all over the stage.
Though anyone with discerning eyes could see that this was called a roaming strategy—the opponent darted across the stage like a swallow, evading Zhang Xiaohua's fists with graceful movements—it was still defense, and its momentum was weaker by several degrees. It did not look good either. Zhang Xiaohua's footwork, which showed no trace of lightness skill, was clumsier than his opponent's, yet it possessed the artlessness of great skill and carried a valiant, imposing air.
And so the two fought as they moved, moved as they fought, battling for nearly one incense stick's worth of time.
Although lightness skill did not require much internal energy, it still consumed internal energy. Otherwise,