When his heavy, powerful smash failed to have any effect, Wang Yanfeng twisted around to gather momentum almost without hesitation. He spread his arms, and his first soul ring finally lit up.
His iron fists abruptly swelled to more than three times their previous size. Shining with intense bronze light, they blasted straight toward Chen Ping's face.
The Body Sect's intensive study of combat techniques had a great deal to do with their own martial souls.
With a body part as their martial soul, most of their soul skills enhanced that particular part. Without excellent combat techniques to complement them, they could not bring their advantages into full play.
Chen Ping's expression remained unchanged as he raised his right palm. A surge of cold made it turn the color of snowflakes in the northern lands.
In Wang Yanfeng's eyes, the aura of the young man, who still had not moved an inch, seemed to change abruptly.
What had been sacred and inviolable suddenly became an immense, mountain-heavy pressure that nearly crushed the breath out of him.
It was nothing more than a simple raising of the arm and thrust of the palm.
Yet that slowly descending right palm now seemed to carry the bitter, howling winds of the north as it fell toward him with unstoppable force.
It was as though he was struggling not merely against a palm strike, but against a distant, frozen world.
Emperor Palm: Great Cold Without Snow.
Boom!
The white palm collided with the heavy bronze fists. An enormous boom rang out amid a dazzling blaze of light, and even all the protective barriers around the competition platform rippled.
Wang Yanfeng hurtled backward from the center of the collision, a faint layer of frost coating both his arms.
This was, of course, not the original