Bang could sense that King had repressed that sun-like, lofty aura of his, adjusting his blood-qi intensity to a level roughly equal to his own.
It revealed King's intention: he wanted a contest of Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist, not a mere crush of raw power.
Such arrogance… only the young still burn that bright… With that thought, Bang raised his arms, alternating soft-over-hard strikes of Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist.
If that's the case, this old man must answer the youngster's hopes!
Two men, four fists, clashing in the empty air.
Two currents of flowing intent tried to dissolve each other's attack, only to cancel out, leaving nothing but naked fist against naked fist.
Bang's face changed; the Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist of his right arm had been nullified, forcing him to meet King's strength with pure force.
Impossible—his right arm would snap the instant it connected.
Though King had suppressed his blood-qi, physique could not be suppressed; the two were on entirely different levels of bodily toughness.
Under equal power, the sturdier body remains unscathed while the weaker one shatters outright.
To avert that, Bang's left hand traced a circle through the air; pale-blue flowing intent veiled the space ahead, diverting the force of King's right fist.
But the balance—left to left, right to right—was broken; King's left Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist slammed into Bang's abdomen.
"Hrk!"
Bang flew backward like a shell from a cannon.
His heels carved two deep ruts across the ground, yet the grooves were smooth; this was no simple knockback.
A pale-blue glow coiled round his feet, gentle strength neutralizing the inner shock, until, tens of metres later, he stopped.
A grandmaster of martial arts, he had refined Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist to perfection; how could he limit it to his hands alone?
Though the art's logic did not suit the legs, veteran skill let him coax a few tenths of its power.
Agony throbbed where the blow had landed; Bang's face darkened, his gaze turning grave as he resumed the Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist stance.
Before the fight he had marvelled at King's monstrous comprehension—grasping in an instant the art whose heir he could never find—yet subconsciously he still believed…
However strong King might be, he had only just learned Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist; in its usage he should still lag behind a veteran grandmaster.
Now Bang knew he had been wrong.
King wielded Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist with strength equal to his own!
Good grief—it brought back his youth, blood seething as it had decades ago.
Shreds of memory flickered, fragments drifting down the river of time, replaying the old grandmaster's vivid first half-life.
Young Bang had been an outright scoundrel, committing unspeakable acts for selfish whim.
He challenged others not to improve, but because he disliked them, maiming them under the guise of sparring.
He lived for pleasure, proud of a scrap of talent, deeming himself unique, answerable to none.
Only after his elder brother Bomb beat him senseless did young Bang recognise his folly.
From then on he buried the Heart-Exploding Liberation Fist of his youth and forged the soft-over-hard Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist.
Mr. King, your insight is formidable—you instantly grasp the Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist I created—but in understanding its spirit, I shall not lose!
In a daze Bang rediscovered the passion of his youth: the self that sought stronger foes, the self that hungered for growth.
Sensing the shift in Bang's aura, King blinked, a faint curve touching his lips.
So the S-Class Rank 3 Silver Fang had finally gotten serious.
Their true strengths were worlds apart; if King wished victory, one punch would suffice.
But he chose otherwise—he wanted to taste the pinnacle of martial arts and to honour the old master.
After all, he had asked to "experience Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist"; flooring the elder with brute force would be a disgrace.
With mind unclouded, Bang stepped out, turning into a blur that rushed King, fists shimmering with pale-blue flowing force.
King's expression stayed calm; that majestic, domineering face remained daunting. To the thunderous roar of the King Engine he likewise assumed the Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist stance.
The next second they clashed again, the gentle forces within their fists grinding, reversing each other.
Veteran cunning won out; Bang found an opening and buried a fist in King's abdomen, followed by five more strikes in a blistering flurry inside one second.
Under the barrage King merely half-stepped back, narrowed his eyes, and lashed out with a fist of regal might in an odd angle.
That blow used the same force Bang had, plus the accumulated power of the five strikes he had just received.
Facing the heavy return, Bang retreated a step, then sprang, hands circling to redirect every ounce of that fist's power.
The ground burst anew; an invisible shockwave fanned outward, raising clouds of dust.
Using the borrowed force, Bang launched a Flowing Water Rock-Crushing Fist far swifter than any before.
King answered in kind, neutralising the blow and sending back an even fiercer impact.
Back and forth they went, each recycling the other's force, every exchange doubling the power until a single punch could shatter the earth.
I send my strength to you; you turn it aside, add your own, and fling double back at me.
I absorb that rebound, stack on mine, and hurl it back again—an endless loop.