He watched Yang Jing and slowly fell into a stance. His Inner Strength began to circulate quietly as he prepared to use the Inner Strength of his signature Wind-Splitting Palm to test his opponent's limits.
Yang Jing met Qian Feng's gaze, his arms lowering slightly. The opening stance of his Mountain-Shattering Fist looked unremarkable, but his Inner Strength was already coiled and ready to strike.
He could faintly sense the ripples of Inner Strength emanating from his opponent—not overwhelmingly powerful, but carrying a certain insidious, entangling quality.
'The Entangling Strength of the Wind-Splitting Palm?'
He mentally reviewed his opponent's techniques, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
The air around the fighting ring grew heavy, and the crowd held its breath in rapt attention.
Yang Jing took a deep breath, suppressing the flicker of nervousness that came with facing an opponent of the same realm for the first time. In its place rose an eager battlelust.
