Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Fang Hao's fist came crashing down with a piercing whistling sound. When the tip of his fist was less than half a foot from Fang Yuan's nose, the air was compressed and produced a muffled thud.

Fang Yuan did not go to greet him.

He lowered his waist slightly, raised his arms to protect his chest and face, and took a half step back.

"Bang!"

Fang Hao's fist slammed into Fang Yuan's forearm, the immense force traveling through his bones and throughout his body. Fang Yuan's foot scraped a white mark on the bluestone slab, and he was pushed back two feet.

Fang Hao did not stop.

The second punch followed immediately, striking Fang Yuan in the ribs with a dull thud that echoed across the training platform. Fang Yuan groaned, staggered, and his shoulder slammed into a stone pillar at the edge of the platform.

The third punch. The fourth punch.

Fang Hao attacked without holding back, each punch carrying full force, the wind from his punches whistling and making Fang Yuan's training clothes rustle loudly. His eyes were bloodshot, the muscles at the corners of his mouth were taut, and he was breathing heavily through his teeth.

He doesn't want to win.

He wanted it crushed.

Below the stage, the host's children erupted in cheers.

"Well played!"

"Senior Brother Fang Hao is awesome!"

"See that? This is the true power of the Flesh Refining Realm. A piece of trash who just broke through dares to come up on stage and challenge us?"

Fang Cheng shouted the loudest, and Fang Yong joined in the commotion, their faces beaming with glee.

On the other side, however, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Fang Shi's face was deathly pale, his nails dug into his palms, and his lips trembled as he tried to shout something but dared not utter a sound. Several of his collateral relatives beside him lowered their heads, not daring to look at the stage.

Fang Ping squatted on the stone steps at the exit of the training ground, his hands gripping his knees, his knuckles cracking.

He could see clearly that with each punch Fang Yuan took, a red mark appeared on his body, and the shoulder of his training clothes was torn, revealing the bruised skin underneath.

"Brother Fang Yuan..." Fang Ping's throat tightened, and his eyes stung with tears.

On the stage.

Fang Hao's eighth punch landed squarely on Fang Yuan's chest.

"Bang!"

Fang Yuan's body suddenly leaned back, his heel dragging a long scratch on the table, and his back slammed into the stone railing, cracking it.

He was hunched over, his hands on his knees, and the churning blood in his chest almost made him vomit.

A hint of saltiness seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Fang Hao stopped three steps away, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his chin. He stared at Fang Yuan's hunched back, and some of the anger in his chest finally dissipated, a twisted smile appearing on his lips.

"this one?"

Fang Hao took a step forward, his voice so loud that it could be heard throughout the entire training ground.

"You wanted to challenge me? You claimed you could lift a three-thousand-pound cauldron three inches? With such meager skills, you dare point your finger at me?"

The laughter from the audience grew even louder.

Fang Cheng slapped his thigh: "Let him challenge! Let him continue challenging!"

On the viewing platform, Third Elder Fang Shoude shook his head and turned to the First Elder beside him: "Shouye, isn't that enough? If we keep hitting him, this child will be crippled."

Fang Shouye remained silent, his gaze fixed on Fang Yuan.

Fang Zhengkun sat in the center, motionless.

Fang Yuanshan stood below the stage, his hawk-like eyes narrowed into slits.

He did not call a halt.

It wasn't because he didn't want to, but because he noticed a detail.

Fang Yuan's hands, which were bent over, did not tremble.

Eight Fists.

Eight relentless punches landed on him; any disciple at the early stage of the Body Refining Realm would have had their blood and qi scattered and wouldn't even be able to stand.

But Fang Yuan's hand, which was resting on his knee, was unusually steady.

Fang Yuanshan's gaze darkened.

On the stage.

Fang Yuan slowly straightened up.

His training clothes were wrinkled, with a tear in the fabric on his left shoulder, and large bruises were faintly visible on his chest and ribs. He casually wiped away the trace of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a dark red mark on his sleeve.

His breathing was steady.

It's not a forced stability; it's genuine stability.

After eight punches, the blood and qi in the body were indeed scattered several times, but after each scattering, the double root bone talent was like a never-ending engine, which quickly re-condensed the blood and qi.

Not only did it come back together, but it became even more refined than before.

This is what Fang Yuan wanted.

He doesn't want to be beaten.

What he wanted was to wear down Fang Hao's life force, punch by punch.

He discovered on the day of their sparring that the speed at which his Qi and blood recovered, brought by his doubled innate talent, far surpassed that of anyone else at the same level. Fang Hao could hit him ten times and he would recover the energy from nine punches, while Fang Hao would consume the Qi and blood from one punch with each punch he threw, and he couldn't recover it.

This is the simplest arithmetic problem.

Time was on his side.

Fang Hao watched Fang Yuan straighten up, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes.

Eight punches—eight punches he threw with all his might—and the young man from a collateral branch of the family opposite him was covered in bruises and blood trickled from his mouth. But his eyes…

A chill suddenly ran down Fang Hao's neck.

Those eyes were so quiet.

It's not a quiet acceptance of fate, nor a quiet struggle to endure.

It's like the quiet of a hunter crouching in the grass, watching his prey step into the trap.

"You." Fang Hao's voice trailed off.

Fang Yuan didn't give him time to think, raising his arms again and assuming a defensive stance.

The meaning of that gesture couldn't be clearer.

Come on, let's keep fighting.

Fang Hao's temples throbbed twice.

He doesn't believe in superstitions.

"Go to hell!"

Fang Hao roared and pounced again.

Ninth punch. Tenth punch. Eleventh punch.

Every punch landed squarely, striking Fang Yuan's arms and chest with dull thuds.

Fang Yuan was forced to retreat step by step, his body swaying from side to side, looking as if he might fall at any moment.

But he did not fall.

Each time he was pushed back, he adjusted his center of gravity using the momentum of his retreat, dissipating some of the force with minimal effort. His defensive angles became increasingly precise. By the ninth punch, his forearm's blocking angle was off by a third, but by the twelfth punch, it had been corrected.

Fang Hao's fists grew heavier and heavier.

It's not that the force is getting stronger, it's that the arm is getting heavier.

When the fifteenth punch was thrown, Fang Hao's forearm was sore and numb. The moment his fist collided with Fang Yuan's arm, he clearly felt that the opponent's block was harder than before.

It's not that Fang Yuan has become stronger; it's that he himself has become weaker.

Blood and qi are being lost.

Every punch consumed his qi and blood. Although the force of the punches was great, Fang Yuan's skin and flesh were like a layer of highly elastic iron film. The impact was transmitted into the skin and was mostly dissipated layer by layer, with very little actually damaging his tendons and bones.

Fang Hao's own vital energy was visibly diminishing.

The eighteenth punch.

Fang Hao's fist slammed into Fang Yuan's shoulder, causing Fang Yuan to sway slightly, but he did not retreat.

The first time, he didn't back down.

Fang Hao's breathing suddenly became heavy, as if a broken bellows was being pulled in his chest, each breath accompanied by a hissing sound.

The cheers from the audience started to subside at some point.

Fang Cheng's slap stopped halfway through. He stared at Fang Hao's back on the stage and suddenly noticed that Fang Hao's shoulders were trembling.

It wasn't because of excitement, but because of exhaustion.

Fang Yong swallowed hard, his voice a little weak: "Brother Fang Hao, why...why does it seem like you're slow?"

Fang Cheng didn't answer, but his expression had already changed.

The cheers from the host's family members gradually faded away, replaced by an unsettling silence.

On the side branch, Fang Shi was the first to notice something was wrong.