The weakest martial artist? One punch and he's leveled up a whole realm!

Ye Xiao nodded and said to Fatty Wang next to him.

"To put it simply, the Ten Thousand Fists Wall trains the mastery of punching power and the precise control of strength."

Fatty Wang nodded.

"The highest record is held by a senior student, with 2,700?" Ye Xiao asked.

Fatty Wang nodded again.

He added, "After the beating, his fist was so badly injured that he couldn't hold chopsticks for two weeks."

Ye Xiao smiled and said, "You said that yesterday."

Fatty Wang smiled憨厚ly and scratched the back of his head.

Ye Xiao stepped forward, raised his fist, and punched the nearest target.

"Bang!"

The screen was not lit, but it displayed: 376 jin (approximately 188 catties).

That punch was very powerful.

but.

Ye Xiao noticed that the target was marked with the number 320 jin.

"Bang! 352 pounds!"

"Bang! 331 pounds!"

"Bang! 305 pounds!"

Ye Xiao threw several punches in a row, and finally succeeded in turning the target green.

"Bang! 320 pounds!"

Green is a symbol of success.

Followed by.

Ye Xiao fired a shot at the target next to him.

The target next to it did not turn green.

Simultaneously.

The target he had turned green turned back to black.

Ye Xiao would have to go back and fight another one.

"Bang! 320 pounds! Green!"

Then they came back to participate in new IPOs.

"Bang! 305 pounds! No light!"

After repeating this several times.

Ye Xiao found the right amount of force and was able to light up the second one as well.

"Your fighting style won't work," Fatty Wang said. "The Ten Thousand Fists Wall doesn't train the power of a single punch; it trains the ability to strike continuously and accurately. If you keep throwing punches one by one, you won't finish hitting a hundred even by tomorrow."

Ye Xiao stopped and looked at the wall.

He knew that Fatty Wang was right; his punching power was sufficient, but his speed and precision were still far from adequate.

Ten thousand targets, not ten thousand punches, but ten thousand precise strikes.

Every punch has to land in a different spot; there's no time to aim, no time to hesitate.

When the fist is thrown, the next target has already been identified.

"When boxing, you can't rely entirely on brute force; sometimes you need to use your brain too."

Fatty Wang sighed and shared this philosophy of life.

Ye Xiao stopped and remained silent, staring intently at the wall of ten thousand fists in front of him.

"Brother Xiao, aren't you going to practice anymore?" Fatty Wang asked curiously, looking at Ye Xiao.

Ye Xiao replied, "I'm thinking."

The difficulty of the Ten Thousand Fists Wall is not strength, but rhythm.

The way an average person fights is to strike one target at a time, and then move on to the next one.

But that would be too slow, because the eyes need time to search, the brain needs time to judge, and the fist needs time to adjust.

True masters play by the rhythm!

The fists rained down, each target perfectly positioned; there was no need to look or think, the muscles would remember.

Ye Xiao closed his eyes and simulated the wall in his mind.

Ten thousand targets, arranged in the shape of a honeycomb.

He went through it in his mind from left to right and from top to bottom.

Then I typed it out again.

Once again...

Seeing Ye Xiao like this, Fatty Wang couldn't help but ask again.

"Xiao-ge, are you tired? Why don't you go back and rest, and practice again next time?"

Ye Xiao shook his head.

"I'm standing with my back to the wall."

"Back against the wall?"

"Memorize the position and force of each target, so that I don't need to look at it when I'm shooting."

Fatty Wang opened his mouth, wanting to say that was impossible, but seeing Ye Xiao's serious expression, he swallowed his words.

.......

A full eight hours!

Fatty Wang stared at Ye Xiao, standing in front of the Ten Thousand Fists Wall for a full eight hours!

I didn't eat, and I didn't go to the cafeteria to wash the dishes!

It was Fatty Wang who made the trip to the cafeteria, not only washing Ye Xiao's dishes but also bringing back dinner.

As a result, dinner got cold, and Ye Xiao didn't eat a single bite.

Fatty Wang brought over some late-night snacks again.

It was already past midnight.

Just then.

Fatty Wang was already dozing off, sitting drowsily in his chair.

Just then.

"Bang!"

He suddenly heard the sound of a punch, which instantly woke him up from his drowsiness!

Fatty Wang quickly opened his eyes wide and stared intently ahead!

Ye Xiao stood in front of the Ten Thousand Fists Wall and took a deep breath.

Eight hours!

He had memorized every single target on the wall—from the top left to the bottom right, ten thousand coordinates, like a map.

He raised his fist and began to punch.

The first punch, the first target in the top left corner! Green!

The second punch, the second one! Green!

The third punch, the third one! Green!

His fist swept across from left to right, like a sickle cutting wheat.

The targets turned green one by one, and the numbers on the screen jumped rapidly.

Ten! Twenty! Thirty!

His speed increased, and his fists left afterimages in the air!

One hundred! Two hundred! Three hundred!

His arms started to ache, but he didn't stop!

Seven hundred! Eight hundred! Nine hundred!

One thousand!!!

"Holy crap!" came Wang Pangzi's surprised and shocked voice from behind.

"That's already a thousand punches?"

A thousand targets lit up, neatly arranged in ten rows, like a green wheat field!

Ye Xiao glanced at the screen—it took fifteen minutes, averaging more than one per second.

This speed seems fast, but it's still far from being a "raindrop".

He shook his aching arms and continued hitting.

One thousand one hundred! One thousand two hundred! One thousand three hundred!

My fist started to hurt.

It's not muscle soreness, it's bone pain!

With each punch that lands on the target, the recoil travels along the finger bones to the wrist, to the elbow, and to the shoulder.

Forces act in pairs.

A thousand targets mean a thousand recoils!

1,500! 1,800! 2,000!

His hands were trembling, not from fear, but from exhaustion.

But he didn't stop.

Two thousand one hundred! Two thousand two hundred! Two thousand three hundred!

The numbers on the screen were still jumping, but their speed had noticeably slowed down.

When the fist falls, it no longer falls like raindrops, but like a rusty machine.

Previously, it was an average of one punch per second, but now it's slowed down to one punch every two seconds.

Every time he raised his fist, it felt like it was filled with lead.

Two thousand five hundred! Two thousand six hundred! Two thousand seven hundred!

The number on the screen stopped at 2,700.

Ye Xiao's fist remained suspended in mid-air, not falling.

It's not because I can't play anymore, it's because—that record is 2,700.

He tied it!

Ye Xiao's fist began to bleed.

It wasn't blood from a crack, but blood seeping from abraded skin, leaving red streaks on the black target.

Fatty Wang stared at Ye Xiao's back, at the bloody, mangled fist, and at the numbers constantly changing on the screen.

He quickly shouted, "Brother Xiao! You've broken the record!"

"You've already surpassed that senior; you can stop now!"

He had just called a stop when...

"Bang!"

The number on the screen jumped: 2701!

Fatty Wang stopped breathing.

Ye Xiao, keep fighting!

Two thousand eight hundred! Two thousand nine hundred! Three thousand!

He couldn't feel his fist anymore.

It's not that it doesn't hurt, it's that the pain has made me numb.

The skin split open, revealing the flesh beneath; the flesh rotted away, revealing the bone underneath.

Ye Xiao remained completely calm!

Anyway, no matter how badly the fist is rotten.

He can eventually repair it using his "limb regeneration" ability.

"In that case, let me beat you until you're completely exhausted!"

An unprecedented flame of determination ignited in Ye Xiao's eyes.