The very instant the Golden Bell faded, Chen Sheng made his move.
He unleashed the right fist he had been charging for so long. There were no dazzling lights, no piercing whistles—only a force, condensed to its absolute limit, that cut through the air and drove, plain and unadorned, straight for Zhan Fusheng's chest.
He struck later, but his fist arrived first.
Zhan Fusheng's face paled. In his haste, he could only circulate all his True Qi and counter with a punch of his own.
BOOM—!!!
The collision of their fists was like a sudden clap of thunder.
A violent burst of True Qi erupted from where they stood, creating a visible ripple of air that blasted outward. It whipped the robes of those in the front rows and made their cheeks sting from the force.
The bluestone slabs beneath their feet finally gave way. With a series of CRACKS, the stone spiderwebbed with fissures, sending shards of rock flying.
