Not far away, Sun Yong stood with his hands behind his back, his piercing gaze locked onto Yang Jing's every movement.
He watched Yang Jing throw a punch toward a bluestone pillar at the edge of the grounds. Even before the fist arrived, a fine layer of white frost bloomed across the stone's surface.
It was a sign of overflowing Inner Strength. He couldn't help but nod slightly, but just as Yang Jing was retracting his fist, he called out, "Hold."
Hearing the voice, Yang Jing relaxed his stance. He was panting lightly, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He bowed and said, "Master."
Sun Yong walked over and pointed to his right shoulder. "The Mountain-Shattering Fist emphasizes that 'power rises from the ground, and strength erupts from the spine.' With that last punch, your shoulder and neck were too tense. The force got stuck at your shoulder blade and wasn't fully channeled through your wrist. It looked mighty, but in reality, you wasted thirty percent of your power."
