Chapter 398: The Bearing of That Punch

Yes, I never imagined I would see a flying sword today; my expression was ridiculous, just like those scientists who despise Daoists as deceiving gods and ghosts, suddenly seeing spirits and gods, their mouths gaping open in disbelief, as if a lump of feces had been stuffed in their mouths—neither able to swallow nor spit it out.

Put another way, it's as if I, who have always looked down on scientists holding the losers of aliens, tonight actually saw a living alien standing before me; my feeling……can no longer be described as tears streaming down my face.

Unlike ordinary people, precisely because I am an insider, I know the insider secrets more clearly. Mount Shu, that belongs to legend, the flying sword, that which can only be seen in movies and.

In the Daoist Sect, even though sword‑control techniques are said to have been passed down, countless predecessors have already proved it mere empty talk, or it is used by those with impure motives to deceive people.

Yet now I truly saw the legendary sword‑control technique—not only saw it, but in the night sky that silver flying sword shot toward my face at lightning speed.

It wanted my life!... The wind carried a chill that made me feel cold inside, my heart soaring.

Speaking of delay, that moment was fast—when the flying sword was only 0.1 cm from me, danger unleashed my potential like never before. At the instant my pupils widened, I leaned back at a 45‑degree angle, braced my hands on the ground, and forced out a Parisian bridge.

With a crack, a sound of breaking bone came from my waist……Instantly I burst into tears, that slender waist of eighty centimeters! Almost snapped by my own twist……。

"Be careful……dodge quickly." As I bent backward and barely avoided the silver sword, suddenly I saw that flying sword flash toward Chen Zheng, aiming straight at his face.

Everyone exclaimed in shock; Fan Wuchang beside me let out an angry roar, wanting to rush forward, but the flying sword's speed was too fast—just a blink and it had already darted to the front of Chen Zheng's brow.

Exactly at that moment, something happened that made my mind go blank. I forgot the pain, even the blood trickling down from the forehead grazed by the sword's aura, I didn't notice.

And the reason I went blank was because Chen Zheng……moved.

As the flying sword closed in, Chen Zheng's tightly shut eyes snapped open, a chilling glare flashing in his dead‑still pupils. The moment his eyes opened, an aura that could shake mountains and rivers and make all things submit burst from him instantly.

"Howl……" Chen Zheng raised his head and let out a long cry; this sudden roar, like a lion's roar, like a tiger's howl, made everyone cover their ears, and some could not withstand the pressure and collapsed instantly to the ground, while the silver sword that had pierced an inch before his face was actually halted in mid‑air by that very howl.

"Heretical ways, dare to bully me……do you really think my fists are for eating vegetables?" With boundless tyranny, the arrogance to challenge heaven itself, Chen Zheng's pale hair flew wildly, he crouched and leapt, his pair of iron fists fearlessly meeting the incoming flying sword.

Furious like a wave, angry like a tsunami……Chen Zheng's fist and the flying sword clashed hard in mid‑air. With a boom like metal striking metal, waves surged, shaking the stone chips in the secret passage until they almost fell.

Chen Zheng's stalwart body, like a great cedar, retreated several steps; blood slowly seeped from the cracks of his tiger fists.

That flying sword which could split giant stones was now rebounded several feet, striking the wall of the secret passage, but the sword being extraordinary, upon hitting the wall it instantly spun in mid‑air, silver light flashing, and again surged forward with killing intent toward Chen Zheng.

And Chen Zheng became even more ferocious; even though his fists bled from the shock, he still gripped those iron fists without fear and charged forward.

The punch Chen Zheng threw is a "dead fist"—in internal martial arts it means a strike with no retreat, even if one sacrifices ten thousand, one must wound the enemy eight thousand.

It is an overbearing, yang‑hard fist; its training is extraordinarily arduous, only those with great perseverance can endure this pain.

At this moment Chen Zheng pushed this overbearing fist to the extreme, punch after punch, each strike carrying an unstoppable, tragic force; every punch released a tiger's roar from his arm, never missing, striking the silver sword precisely.

The collisions of fist and sword produced repeated metallic booms; each impact sounded like thunder on flat ground, making hearts tremble.

The silver sword was strange and without pattern, agile and changeable, constantly shifting its trajectory in the air, each strike aiming to seal Chen Zheng's vital points.

Chen Zheng's fist was overbearing and resolute, vowing to pierce mountains and rivers, advancing without hesitation.

After several successive collisions, Chen Zheng's fists were already stained with blood—this was his own blood from the fight, not the enemy's.

If it were an ordinary person, they would have already felt fear, turned pale, and thought of how to escape under the sword's edge. But Chen Zheng's face showed no fear; instead, the more he fought, the braver he became, the more injured he was, the greater his aura grew, his punching speed became unbelievably fast, almost suffocating.

Under Chen Zheng's two‑sided hurting style, the sword's cold light gradually faded; not long after, it was fiercely knocked to the ground by his blood‑stained fists.

Blood trickled down Chen Zheng's fingers onto the ground; at this moment Chen Zheng resembled an ancient battlefield warrior brandishing a sword and riding a horse—though wounded, he feared nothing, as immovable as a mountain……wind and thunder could not shift him even a fraction.

Silence……the secret passage was so quiet a dropped pin could be heard; everyone stared with mouths agape at the man standing in the middle, arrogant beyond compare.

My heart was even more shaken……before seeing Chen Zheng, I thought Pangzi's tiger‑shaped fist was already quite formidable, carrying a hint of tiger's roar shaking mountains and rivers. But after seeing Chen Zheng's punch, I suddenly realized Pangzi's tiger‑shaped fist was merely child's play, utterly incapable of emitting the aura of the king of beasts.

Chen Zheng's punch……is truly the tiger's roar that shakes mountains and rivers.

That earth‑shaking roar from his dantian, the explosive burst from a crouch‑leap, the crackling sound like breaking bones when he throws a punch—all prove Chen Zheng is an internal martial arts master, and moreover one of the top few in the world today.

The dragon is the dantian, the tiger the spine……this is the essence of internal martial arts: internal martial arts power concentrates the scattered external spirit into a single thought, hands, feet, and body movements follow the reverse of the forward, retracting into the dantian.

Bright strength, hidden strength, transforming strength rise with full qi, progressing from meter‑strength to foot‑strength to inch‑strength, dividing strength, the whole body one qi, interacting with the dantian as a mutual vibration, internal and external united; when a punch is thrown, everything around sways.

Only a few in the world can reach this stage—not to mention those who merely have the form are as numerous as specks of dust; even those who have developed hidden strength and understood its meaning are as rare as golden‑haired unicorns, and those like Chen Zheng who have cultivated qi and momentum are practically once‑in‑a‑century encounters.

Not only I was shocked; everyone in the secret passage was deeply shaken by the bearing of that punch. No one could have imagined that the always frail scholar‑like Chen Zheng would instantly become so overbearing and boundless, ruling the world.

After a moment, when I regained my senses I vaguely recalled that Chen Zheng, besides being the dragon head of Dong Ling, is also the champion of the Aomen underground boxing arena, lethal combat; his pair of tiger fists has swept half of Aomen, with no equal.

A hum……a faint chant came from beside my ear, so soft it was almost inaudible like a mosquito……

But this faint chant made everyone in the secret passage change expression, because the sound came from the silver small sword that Chen Zheng had struck down.

All divine objects possess spirit; whether weapons, sacred wood, after being nurtured for a time they develop spirituality.

And the sound emitted by this silver sword shows it is full of spirit; even if it has not yet produced independent spirituality, it is hardly different.

More terrifying is that behind this silver sword there is a hidden controller. Connected by heart‑blood, it controls this flying sword that is impossible to defend against.

The strange paper‑man stream, the lost sword‑control technique……both appeared tonight; I do not know whether they are one group or two, but I can be certain their target is only one……Chen Zheng.

Another few hums, the silver sword like a defeated soldier struggled on the ground a few times, then suddenly leapt into the air, its cold blade pointing straight at Chen Zheng's face, about to launch another killing strike.

Chen Zheng's eyes turned cold, a chill flashed in his gaze, he gripped his fists again and roared as he threw another punch at that silver sword.

"Cough……" An unexpected scene occurred again: Chen Zheng, who had been charging like a ferocious tiger toward the silver sword, suddenly halted mid‑way, then squatted down, coughing painfully. Soon after, a mouthful of bright red blood spurted from his mouth; the tiger fist that had been suspended in mid‑air moving forward ultimately drooped powerlessly like an old man at the end of his life.

"Old injury of Brother Zheng has acted up, help him walk quickly" Fan Wuchang held his shoulder, struggling to rise again.

At this moment the silver sword in mid‑air seemed to sense the enemy's weakness, seized the chance, a piercing silver light flashed from its blade, then, like lightning, it thrust straight at Chen Zheng's face.

The former undisputed underworld tyrant, the imposing Chen Zheng, once again fell into a dead end