Half an hour later, Yang Jing gradually ceased his movements. He stood motionless, slowly calming his turbulent qi and blood.
As he carefully sensed the changes within him, a smile unconsciously touched his lips.
He gently clenched his fist. As he focused his strength, an indescribably terrifying power condensed in his palm. The muscles under his skin swelled slightly, exuding a heart-stopping pressure.
He knew with certainty that even without channeling a shred of Inner Strength, an ordinary Huajin Martial Artist would likely be unable to withstand a blow relying solely on the pure physical power of his fist.
And if he combined his Inner Strength with his physical power for a full-force punch, even an expert at the Peak of Transformation would be no match. Taking the blow head-on would inevitably leave them with shattered bones and severe injuries; they would be completely unable to resist.
