Chapter 4485 — Certain Defeat?

Moreover, Wei Zhao had always possessed extraordinary self-control; if he truly set his mind on leaving not a single opening, it was not impossible.

The second strategy, by contrast, plainly carried the flavor of risking one's life. Wei Zhao had never been a gambler; unless driven to the absolute end of his rope, he would never wager his life and fortune against another.

With his mind made up, Wei Zhao's next moves were naturally clear. He used the Butterfly Microstep to maintain his positioning while employing every convenient martial skill at hand to wear his opponent down—Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palm, Mad Fire Fist, Mad Fire Thousand Kicks, and so on. His various signature techniques came in rotation, one after another, with scarcely a pause.

Had anyone else done the same, they would likely have exhausted their true qi before ever finishing off their opponent—after all, however vast one's reserves of true qi, there was always a limit. Wei Zhao, however, plainly had no such worry.

By comparison, Cheng Haonan was far less extravagant than Wei Zhao. He had essentially never used any martial skill of particular power, relying purely on ordinary punches and kicks to respond. Yet though they were called ordinary, their might was in truth by no means trifling; even compared with Wei Zhao's martial skills, they did not fall the slightest bit short.

The longer Wei Zhao fought, the more alarmed he grew. He had never encountered such a situation before: his opponent, using only ordinary punches and kicks, could actually stand toe-to-toe against him at full power—and faintly, imperceptibly, it even seemed his opponent held the upper hand!

Were it not for experiencing it firsthand, such a thing would be almost unimaginable. Yet after several rounds of deadlock, Wei Zhao had more or less grasped a bit of the essence of his opponent's blows. The reason they could be so formidable was that they were not purely ordinary punches and kicks—some true qi had been infused into them.

Of course, the true qi infused into each punch and kick was not much; otherwise the gain would not be worth the cost, and he might as well have used a martial skill outright. After all, martial skills existed precisely to maximize the power of true qi, and the amount Cheng Haonan applied to his blows fell far short of even the minimum required for a martial skill.

Yet though the true qi he applied to his blows was scant, every bit of it was spent where it counted. That tiny sliver of true qi somehow brought a qualitative leap to the power of his punches and kicks, until they were not the least bit inferior to the vast majority of ordinary martial skills. Such a method was nothing short of miraculous!

This Cheng Haonan was worthy of being the leader of the Poison Eye Mercenary Corps—a man who could rise to become a local warlord was indeed no simple figure!

Earlier, Wu Baoliang's Mad Sand Thousand Bursts Fist had been formidable, but what Wei Zhao truly feared was merely the technique itself; he had paid Wu Baoliang himself little mind. Now, facing Cheng Haonan—even though the man was a mortal enemy he must kill—Wei Zhao could not help but feel a trace of admiration. The pressure this man brought to bear on him was far greater than Wu Baoliang's.

Because Cheng Haonan was not as spectacular as Wu Baoliang, the crowd below did not perceive the extent of his strength as clearly as Wei Zhao did. Watching the two fighters trade moves at a furious pace, they instead felt the match was evenly poised and thoroughly exhilarating.

Even Qi Wenmo held this view, watching with his heart surging beyond control. Yet butler Song, standing beside him, shook his head without a trace. If the fight continued this way, Young Hero Ling was in grave peril...

Nor was he alone. Zhao Shanying of the Mystic Eagle Escort Agency in the distance, and Qi Mingyuan, Hai Wuliang, and the others seated in the judges' panel—each was a person of exceptional discernment. In this deadlock that seemed so evenly matched, the superior and inferior were already clearly decided. Though it was not very obvious, there was no doubt that Wei Zhao had been under Cheng Haonan's heel the entire time!

As worry showed on Qi Mingyuan's face, the corners of Hai Wuliang's mouth curved upward once more. So long as Cheng Haonan could successfully dispose of Wei Zhao, the plan would return to its originally anticipated track, everything would remain firmly in hand, and his Four Seas Escort Agency would still have its chance to laugh last.

Wei Zhao's disadvantage had not been obvious at first, but as the pace of attack and defense on both sides grew ever faster, the flaw was suddenly laid bare.

Though the jade pendant's space was a powerful backstop, and Wei Zhao feared no depletion of true qi, the problem was that even the most convenient martial skill required a period of qi gathering in the course of its execution; only the length of that gathering differed.

Using one powerful martial skill after another allowed Wei Zhao to maintain immense pressure on Cheng Haonan while also, imperceptibly, exposing an unavoidable flaw—his rhythm.

Every martial skill required qi gathering, which doomed Wei Zhao's rhythm of attack and defense to remain slow; a pause for recovery was inevitable in between. However briefly Wei Zhao compressed that interval, it could not be avoided in the end. By contrast, Cheng Haonan, using only ordinary punches and kicks, had no such concern at all.

Cheng Haonan had clearly seized upon this flaw, and so he did everything in his power to hasten the rhythm. Once the tempo exceeded Wei Zhao's upper limit, the man would fall entirely under his control.

The present situation was plainly tilting rapidly in that direction. More and more people were beginning to realize that Cheng Haonan had been holding the upper hand all along—and that his advantage was still swiftly widening!

Bang! Once again his prized Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palm was blocked by his opponent's ordinary punches and kicks, and seeing Cheng Haonan utterly unharmed, Wei Zhao's heart sank.

This was the Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palm's thirty forms; its power was by no means trifling. Even Cheng Haonan had not dared to meet it head-on a moment earlier—yet now he handled it so lightly and casually. This was the gap in rhythm.

That rhythm had now far exceeded Wei Zhao's upper limit. With no time to gather qi, powerful martial skills like the Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palm had lost their original might. This was a most dangerous sign.

At the start of the duel, the aura around Cheng Haonan had been deeply restrained, like a savage beast sheathing its claws. But now Wei Zhao distinctly felt the oppressive force radiating from his opponent growing ever stronger, that aura of extreme danger ever more pronounced. The savage beast was about to bare its fangs.

No—he had to break free of this rhythm at once, or defeat was certain.

Wei Zhao was no fool; he could not possibly cling to his original strategy in such a situation. This was plainly a dead end, and so circumstances now forced him to change—to stake his life and fortune and fight with all his might!

Striking with both hands at once, Wei Zhao raised his palms and unleashed two Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palms in succession. This sudden change startled Cheng Haonan, who was instantly driven back several zhang! (Chapter 8 update!) (To be continued...)