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It wasn’t a sneak attack.

Ning Que had to admit it wasn’t after thinking it over after the incident.

The fist had appeared so openly and was almost a hundred feet away from his face. If it had been an arrow, it would be considered a sneak attack but not a fist.

The only reason they saw the punch coming was due to the surrounding vapor being diminished into even smaller particles so that it no longer obstructed the view.

The smooth and steep cliff became distinct.

The mountain path also became visible.

That was why Ning Que managed to spot the fist.

He also saw that strong mountain-like middle-aged man.

He didn’t have time to think nor take a closer look at the man’s face for the fist, larger than the size of a bowl, was lunging at his face without hesitation after breaking down the vapor.

The fist expanded several times over, filling up his vision.

It was so fast that it pressed the wind in the narrow passage toward the smooth wall instead of vibrating. Then all sound disappeared, leaving behind a dead silence.

This was something even more terrifying than a sneak attack because the man was intending to kill him with his super strength.

Facing a faster-than-sound fist that could push the air away, Ning Que only had the time to do one thing. It was something he had done millions of times before when facing death while growing up. It was an action he was very familiar with.

The odd cry that appeared whenever he was threatened by death was stuck in his throat. Before the hair on his skin could even stand on its end due to fear, his big black umbrella was already open like a shield under the sky.

The man’s fist landed on Ning Que’s umbrella.

The umbrella didn’t break and perhaps nothing in the world could break it at the moment. There was an exaggeratedly deep impression on the thick, oiled cloth of the umbrella. It was the worst deformation that the umbrella had ever suffered, a testament to the strength of the man’s fist.

The umbrella began repairing itself instantly, so fast that it wasn’t possible for the naked eye to see. The instant the umbrella started repairing itself, the exaggeratedly huge impact that it absorbed started spreading all over itself.

Ning Que lost grip of the handle, cutting several deep white wounds in his hand. There wasn’t even time for the blood to ooze out for the third moment was also something beyond time.

His eyes reflected the darkness of the big black umbrella. Inhaling and exhaling, his eyes turned bright as he stood tiptoe and prepared to leave the ground.

Yet he couldn’t finish any of his actions before the handle of the umbrella rammed into his chest.

But it was also thanks to all the preparation he did in that brief moment that he didn’t die on impact.

The handle fell down like a heavy mountain crushing on his chest.

Ning Que’s feet left the ground. His abdomen caved in and he started to fly.

That horrible power, as great as a mountain, started weakening during his long flight.

But he paid a big price for this. His blood was spraying like a waterfall.

Though the pain in his chest was torturing him like the devil and the fear of death was stimulating his brain, his eyes were calm and concentrated. He continued to adjust his posture as he fell while spreading the primordial Qi stored in his stomach through his limbs. He was trying to recover with the primordial Qi left by his Youngest Uncle.

Yet that fist won’t give him a chance to do so.

More accurately, that fist had never once stopped.

That big black umbrella had failed to stop the fist, even for a short minute.

The fist knocked Ning Que into the sky.

The fist followed suit.

The merciless and powerful fist followed him like Yama.

...

...

That path leading out of the Tianqi Mountains was secluded and narrow, so it wouldn’t be discovered whether from the outside or inside. So when the fist that knocked Ning Que into the sky in an attempt to kill him, it must pass the three young girls who had just reacted.

Mo Shanshan was the first one to retaliate.

How could she just watch Ning Que be killed? She noticed the fearsome power in the fist and realized the middle-aged man’s aura was even stronger than her master’s. Under the pressure coming from various factors, the world’s best young Talisman Master finally revealed an unprecedented display of power. In an instant, before her eyes even blinked, she had finished drawing a mighty Half Divine Talisman.

From afar, a dense talisman aura came and condensed into a formidable stream of air that rose to the sky.

But the fist showed no hint of hesitation and continued to punch forward.

The fist dispersed the stream of air and destroyed the talisman.

The second one to make her move was Ye Hongyu, the Tao Addict.

She didn’t want to get involved in this battle for she had already recognized the man. She knew he was a visiting professor of the Divine Hall and was well aware of his strength. More importantly, she had no good will toward Ning Que and wouldn’t shed a single tear even if he was minced into meat paste.

But she couldn’t help fighting back because the fist was too perfect.

Only cold-blooded and straightforward people were capable of such a perfect fist and only people without thoughts of escaping could face it unflinchingly. At that moment, she realized that the man wouldn’t hesitate even if he knew who she was. The resolute fist was all she needed to know about his attitude.

She stood on the path where the fist would definitely pass and attempt to cut it down with her invisible Taoist Sword. She didn’t harbor any hope of succeeding because she knew she was far beneath her opponent despite being in the Knowing Destiny State. Sometimes, she would even think that not even God was as powerful as him.

Per her expectations, her most powerful Taoist Sword seemed like a wooden one in front of the fist. The sword suddenly shattered into pieces of iron and disappeared without leaving any trace.

Tang Xiaotang was the last one to fight back.

Because she considered herself a descendant of the Enlightenment Doctrine, she believed that people outside the path were the self-proclaimed orthodox cultivators from Central Plains and insisted on retaliating last.

She didn’t know who the middle-aged man was, but she could guess. That was why there was no fear in her bright eyes, only excitement.

She was excited not because she could defeat her opponent. Rather, she knew she would never be able to do it. So she didn’t fight back like she would against Snowfield Direwolfs or use her blood-color huge blade to cut Prince Long Qing. She folded her arms in front of her chest, making the best possible defense of herself.

Just as she had expected, her crossed-arms atop her delicate chest was flung apart in an instant.

The fist had always targeted Ning Que, only holding back its true power when passing the three girls. However, its trajectory was akin to a flood passing through a small mountain village.

Ning Que quickly closed his big black umbrella and used it like a tail to help him keep his balance. Looking at the fist that was getting closer and closer, he was calm and concentrated and he was already gripping the hilt behind him.

The oncoming fist meant the shadow of death was just in front of his eyes. He was terrified, but his past experience had taught him the more dangerous it was, the more he had to remain calm.

Many times, it was this kind of calmness that allowed him to evade death.

He hoped he could pull off the same today.

It was as if Haotian or Yama heard his prayer. His calmness in the face of death allowed his memories of the message left behind by Master Lotus in his consciousness to become vivid in a flash.

He didn’t understand the message but he came to understand the fist.

He even inexplicably thought of many countermeasures against the fist. Those countermeasures were strange and beyond understanding, yet... they required a state that he couldn’t reach now!

Was this the absolute difference in power among states?

Staring at the fist, a trace of hopelessness finally colored his eyes.

...

...

From the moment the fist broke through the fog and arrived in front of Ning Que, that middle-aged man had only threw a single fist.

He had spent the past few days in deep thought by the Hulan Sea and decided to put aside all his worldly problems and make a clean break from the past. Thus he gathered all the spirits of Peak state of Martial Arts in his fist.

He needed only one fist to squash the four powerful youngsters of the current generation.

There was no way to stop such a fist at all. There were few people in this world was worthy of him firing a second fist at them.

And there was no one who could stop his fist.

Not the emperor of Tang or the hierarch of the West-Hill Divine Palace.

But it stopped just as it was about to hit Ning Que.

The fist, so decisive and perfect in Ye Hongyu’s eyes, stopped in front of Ning Que.

The extreme transition from movement to stillness was a testament to the man’s amazing state of Martial Arts.

No one in the world could stop the fist except the man himself.

His fist came flying through plains and lakes, passing the Tuyang City, to finally come here. The fist was so decisive and determined, even carrying the desire to fight the world, yet why did it stop now?

...

...

A scholar had mysteriously appeared beside Ning Que.

The scholar had thick eyebrows and a broad forehead. Dressed in an old gown and a pair of worn straw shoes, he seemed like a nice person. A wooden dipper and an old book were strapped to his waist. His clothes were layered with dust yet he seemed clean beyond measure.

It was impossible to tell the scholar’s age. He didn’t exude any oppressive aura, merely choosing to stand quietly beside Ning Que. He even seemed a little naive and straightlaced.

But as long as he was there, the fist dared not to move forward no matter how powerful and determined it was.

That was because the scholar was the Eldest Brother of the Academy.

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