Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Fang Teng did not hesitate any longer.

He had read too much information about Fang Yuan, witnessed the whole process of Fang Yuan being defeated by him in five moves on the martial arts stage, and also personally saw the scene of that punch shattering the stone target from the corner tower.

The two sets of information are completely contradictory.

Contradictions imply variables. Variables are the most dangerous thing in a confrontation.

Therefore, Fang Teng chose the safest approach—not giving the variables time to develop.

His hind foot stomped on the bluestone surface again.

The second sprint was even faster than the first. The explosive power of the lower limbs after bone tempering, when fully unleashed, could accelerate the entire body to the edge of a Flesh Refining Realm martial artist's reaction limit in a single step.

The right fist aimed straight at Fang Yuan's face.

This was no longer a test. It was a standard Bone Refinement Realm technique—a Bone Strength Enhancement Straight Punch. The sound of the fist compressing the air was exactly the same as when it struck the wooden stake earlier. Deep, solid, and with a vibration that made one's teeth ache.

Fang Yuan's body reacted when the fist came within a foot.

It wasn't a retreat, nor was it a side swerve.

He raised his left forearm at an extremely tricky angle—not to meet the attack head-on, but to slice diagonally across the trajectory of Fang Teng's fist with the bone surface on the outside of his forearm.

deflection.

Fang Teng's fist grazed the outside of Fang Yuan's forearm, avoiding a direct impact. Seventy to eighty percent of the force of the bone-strength-enhanced straight punch was neutralized by that angle, with only two or three tenths remaining passing through the contact surface into Fang Yuan's arm.

Fang Yuanhou slid half a step.

My foot scraped a short white mark on the bluestone slab.

Half a step.

Fang Teng's brow twitched.

Double the stance training. Fang Yuan didn't silently recite these four words in his mind, but his body knew better than his brain what had just happened. The angle of his forearm's deflection was precise to the inch; any more and he would have been struck head-on by a fist; any less and he would have lost contact and lost his fulcrum to deflect the force.

This kind of precision isn't something you can learn through practice. It's ingrained in your bones.

Fang Teng gave him no chance to catch his breath.

The second punch came right after.

Left straight punch, targeting the chest.

Fang Yuan turned to the side, pulled his left shoulder back, and his fist swept past three inches in front of his chest.

The third punch. A right hook, sweeping across the side of the neck.

Fang Yuan lowered his head, tucking his chin into his collarbone. The wind from his punch swept past his head, taking away a few stray hairs.

The fourth punch.

The most devastating blow. Fang Teng's entire body dipped slightly at the moment of impact, lowering his center of gravity considerably. His right fist tore through the air from below, aiming for Fang Yuan's ribs. An uppercut.

Fang Yuan twisted his body slightly to the right.

The fist landed between his right shoulder and right rib.

It wasn't a direct hit. It was a glancing blow. The curve of his shoulder blade deflected most of the impact. But even though the force of a Bone Refining Realm cultivator only grazed him, the vibrations sent a shiver through Fang Yuan's right side.

He took a step back.

On the west side of the stage, Fang Ping's knuckles were clenched so tightly they cracked.

Eight words were squeezed out of his throat, his voice so soft that only Fang Shi beside him could hear them: "It's like this again... I'm getting beaten again."

Fang Shi remained silent. His gaze was fixed on Fang Yuan's footsteps.

Fang Teng continued to press forward.

During the brief respite after his four-hit combo, instead of retreating to adjust, he immediately launched his second offensive. This was the choice of a seasoned veteran—under sustained high pressure, the opponent's defense would rapidly deplete their stamina, and the shorter the interval, the narrower the window for recovery.

The fifth punch. The sixth punch.

One on the left and one on the right, pointing towards Fang Yuan's torso and head.

Each strike carried the added bone density of a Bone Refining Realm cultivator. The deep, muffled sound of fists squeezing into the air echoed continuously on the training stage, like someone hammering an anvil wrapped in cloth.

Fang Yuan's response changed.

Instead of using forearm deflection, it has become purely about footwork and changes in body angle.

He stepped back half a step with his left foot, thrust his right shoulder forward an inch, and the fifth punch slid past his left ear. He turned his body fifteen degrees to the right, twisted his waist and hips, and the sixth punch grazed the fabric of his back as it flew away.

Neither of them made direct contact.

But the force of the sixth punch struck his left shoulder, tearing a seam in the fabric.

The seventh punch. Fang Teng changed his rhythm. The first six punches were rapid, consecutive attacks, but the seventh punch suddenly slowed down by half a beat.

Fang Yuan's body had already entered a fast-paced defensive inertia, and the sudden deceleration caused his prediction to deviate by a fraction of a breath.

Just a fraction of a breath.

Fang Teng's fist passed through the gap in Fang Yuan's defense and struck his left rib squarely.

Complete contact.

"Bang."

This sound was unlike any of the previous punches. It was dull, heavy, like a bag of sand being thrown onto a stone slab.

Fang Yuan's body bent due to the impact.

It wasn't an exaggerated bend. It was because the muscles in the left rib area were subjected to pressure beyond their limits in an instant, causing the body to instinctively collapse in the direction of the force.

He stepped back two paces to the side.

He touched his left rib with his right hand, pressing his palm against his clothes, and felt a sharp pain in his ribs beneath the fabric.

It wasn't broken. But the shock to the periosteum had already caused the muscle groups in that area to spasm.

The noise from the audience suddenly rose.

In the main area on the east side, the whispers that had been suppressed for several minutes were completely released after this punch.

Fang Cheng stood up from his seat, placed his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and the smile on his lips was so wide that it was almost as if he was not watching a fellow clansman being beaten.

"It's over." Fang Cheng's voice wasn't low, and several people around heard it. "A direct hit from the Bone Refining Realm expert, even if their ribs aren't broken, they'll be cracked. This fight can't go on."

Fang Yong nodded repeatedly beside him, his face beaming with the same radiant expression as the sky suddenly clearing up after a cloudy day.

The western side branch area.

Several members of the collateral branches turned their attention away.

They couldn't bear to watch.

Fang Shi sat in the first row. He didn't turn away.

But his lips were trembling.

In the south viewing area, Li Jue held a teacup, his eyes following the angle and efficiency of each exchange of force on the table.

The moment Fang Yuan was hit head-on, Li Jue's pupils did not dilate, nor did the corners of his mouth turn up.

He's calculating.

The standard impact force of a straight punch from the Bone Refining Realm, the rib tolerance threshold of the late-stage Flesh Refining Realm, the number of steps Fang Yuan took backward, and the degree of bending. He cross-referenced these three sets of data in his mind.

A deviation has occurred.

Fang Yuan took two steps back, bending over. According to normal force transmission, this punch should have made him take at least three steps back, and the bending angle should have been even greater.

Either Fang Teng held back—which is impossible, as Fang Teng's punching stance showed no sign of holding back.

Either Fang Yuan's physical endurance exceeded the standard value of the late stage of the Body Refining Realm.

Li Jue placed the teacup back on the tray on his lap and ran his fingers along the inside of the cup.

In the south corner, Manager Qian's body had somehow left the stone pillar; he was leaning slightly forward, his hands resting on his knees.

His gaze wasn't on Fang Yuan, but on Fang Yuan's feet.

When hit, an ordinary martial artist staggers backward, losing their balance and needing extra movement to regain it. Fang Yuan's two steps backward were clean and crisp, as if he were walking.

The landing position is completely symmetrical to the position before retreating.

This kid's lower body is incredibly stable.

On the martial arts stage.

Fang Teng did not stop.

His knee was already raised. At the instant Fang Yuan bent his body, a knee strike was the most logical follow-up. Target—the abdomen.

A kneecap at the Bone Refining Realm has a patella that has been tempered to a point of near-iron hardness. If this knee strike were to actually penetrate Fang Yuan's abdomen, he wouldn't even be able to stand up and walk off the stage today, let alone fight.