"Enough talk. Face my fist!"
Shi Meng was straightforward and had no patience for such pleasantries. With a loud roar, his bowl-sized fist smashed toward Wu Zhen's face, stirring up a vicious wind.
Wu Zhen neither dodged nor evaded. Chanting a Buddhist mantra in a low voice, a faint golden glow enveloped his body as he took Shi Meng's punch head-on with his chest!
"THUD!"
A muffled sound echoed, like the beating of a war drum.
Wu Zhen's figure swayed slightly before he steadied himself. The monastic robes on his chest were torn, revealing bronze-colored skin underneath that was only faintly red. He seemed completely unharmed.
Shi Meng, on the other hand, felt as if his fist had struck a piece of refined iron, forged a thousand times over. The rebound force made his arm tingle.
"What a tough turtle shell!"
Shi Meng grimaced, a grave look flashing in his eyes.
He unleashed his Fist Technique, his blows heavy and powerful, attacking Wu Zhen like a raging tempest.
