Si Jiawen saw Yang Jing's excitement, and a faint smile touched her lips. "That's about enough," she said lightly. "The warm-up is over. I'm making my move now."
Hearing this, Yang Jing's heart skipped a beat. His expression turned wary at once. He quickly focused, took half a step back, and assumed a defensive stance, preparing to face her attack in earnest.
He knew that once his Senior Sister attacked, it would be nothing like her earlier defensive posture. He would have to give it his all to have any chance.
In the next instant, Si Jiawen switched from defense to offense.
She remained motionless. But at the precise moment Yang Jing's punch was fully extended—his old momentum spent, new momentum not yet generated—she pinpointed the opening he couldn't cover in time.
With a flip of her hand, a condensed stream of Inner Qi gathered in her palm. She struck out like lightning, her palm landing squarely on Yang Jing's own left palm, which he had hastily raised to block his chest.
