He didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention until things calmed down.
Thus, Yang Jing was now completely focused on the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
He had long since become quite proficient in this fist technique. With his Inner Strength having surged recently, it was the perfect opportunity to familiarize himself with his new power threshold while maintaining the appearance of normalcy.
The morning light gradually grew brighter, bathing the entire front courtyard.
Fine beads of sweat trickled from Yang Jing's forehead, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto the stone slates, where they bloomed into small, dark patches.
His breathing was long and steady, but the force behind his fists grew ever more condensed.
Only he knew what terrifying power was surging through his body.
'An ordinary Dark Energy Martial Artist probably couldn't withstand three of my punches.'
'Even a master at the Peak of Dark Energy would be defeated within ten moves if they had no trump cards.'
