"Boss, show him your strength!"
"Yeah! Our Mad Tiger Mercenary Group isn't just anyone's stepping stone!"
"Boss! Go for it!"
The remaining four members of the Mad Tiger Mercenary Group fueled the tension, their voices filled with excitement.
To them, this wasn't a big deal—on the contrary, they were eager to see a fight.
Zhou Hu glanced at them, shaking his head with a faint smile. Then, turning his attention to the bald man before him, he narrowed his eyes and said solemnly, "Alright. I accept your challenge."
The brawny, bald man grinned and pounded his right fist against his chest, the impact echoing like a war drum. "My name is Zhang Yu! Let's fight!"
As his voice fell, a powerful aura surged from his body.
The oppressive force made it difficult for weaker mercenaries nearby to breathe, forcing them to retreat. In an instant, the crowd parted, forming a circle spanning several dozen meters, leaving the two men facing each other at its center.
Zhang Yu smirked.
A deep earth-yellow aura condensed around him, radiating a force as solid as a mountain.
"Mountain-Crushing Fist!"
Zhang Yu roared.
With a sudden stomp, the ground trembled. The bluestone pavement beneath him cracked, leaving a footprint several inches deep. Fissures spread outward like a spiderweb.
Then, like a storm, Zhang Yu's fist shot toward Zhou Hu, his punch tearing through the air with a shrill whistle.
The sheer force of his attack was overwhelming.
A punch that could shatter mountains!
Yet, Zhou Hu remained calm. His face was expressionless, but a sharp, bright golden light flickered in his eyes.
He inhaled deeply, channeling his aura.
The energy coursing through him followed a peculiar rhythm, making his entire body feel like it was expanding—like something immense was about to erupt!
Hah!
With a low exhale, Zhou Hu launched a simple, straightforward punch.
There were no dazzling flashes or roaring winds, yet the sheer force behind it was unmistakable.
If Zhang Yu's fist was like a warrior capable of leveling mountains…
Then Zhou Hu's punch carried an unshakable kingly might—a dominance that made others instinctively submit!
The King… cannot be defied!
BOOM!
Fists collided.
A deafening impact shook the air, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Dust and debris burst from the center, obscuring the fighters from view.
The watching mercenaries craned their necks, eyes wide with anticipation.
Then—
Whoosh!
A figure was sent flying backward, crashing into a wall with a resounding boom! The solid structure collapsed under the impact, rubble scattering in all directions.
Silence.
Everyone sucked in a sharp breath.
It was Zhang Yu!
A moment ago, he had been the stronger one—yet now, he lay amid the wreckage, his right arm bloodied and torn, his skin cracked from the force of impact. Though his bones were intact, the damage was severe; it would take him months to recover.
Rustle…
Footsteps echoed as Zhou Hu emerged from the dust, his expression unchanged.
His clothes were pristine.
The difference between them was clear.
Zhang Yu struggled to his feet, clutching his injured arm. He took a deep breath and spoke with difficulty, "I lost."
He had never expected the battle to end in a single exchange.
Shock and curiosity filled his mind.
What kind of technique was that?!
He looked at Zhou Hu, eyes filled with disbelief. "What was that fist technique you used?"
Zhou Hu's gaze was steady.
"Overlord's Fist."