Published: February 12, 2025
Zimu had already recovered from his initial shock.
He saw that the only person attacking him was Pao Bai. Although Jie Su had appeared, she quickly entered a closed formation with her companions. As for the young Rebel Dragon Race, Zimu didn't consider its strength a threat at all.
There were no other enemies around. In this situation, Zimu didn’t feel he had anything to fear.
When it came to fame among the All Races of the Universe, he naturally wasn’t as renowned as Pao Bai. But that wasn’t his fault; after all, Pao Bai was like a madman, challenging everyone and had a well-known romance with Isabella. His performance in this year's rookie battlefield had also been evident to all.
However, this was only in terms of fame, which didn’t necessarily reflect strength.
In fact, Zimu felt that he was far superior to Pao Bai on a higher level of recognition. At least Pao Bai could never gain entry to those exclusive parties reserved for super clans and a few qualified major clans.
In the eyes of people at that level, Pao Bai was just a country bumpkin—who would know him?
Aside from fame, Zimu didn’t believe the Star-Eye Clan's silver commander had anything to compare with him, especially in terms of strength.
According to the data, what was Pao Bai's strength? Just over twenty thousand fuleira. And what about Zimu? He was several times stronger than Pao Bai!
Talent? Zimu was indeed much older than Pao Bai, but in the long-lived All Races of the Universe, those years could be seen as an entire generation. What is talent? It’s having someone stronger in the same generation—what was Pao Bai?
Just a madman puffed up by a small race.
Would he be afraid of someone like that? Zimu found it laughable.
He leaned back slightly, and a metal sphere popped out with a "ding" from his arm, accurately hitting Pao Bai's weapon. The sound wasn’t loud, but the body of the silver commander was stunned, and the attack lost its effectiveness.
Zimu felt even more contemptuous. He disregarded the fact that he was the one being attacked, and two spiked gauntlets emitted a faint halo as they smashed toward the slowed Pao Bai.
"Want to kill me? How utterly foolish of you!" A black head appeared on his fist and smashed against the light emitted by Pao Bai. Zimu shouted, landing a punch that bore no fruit, then swung out another fist.
This time, the fist was no longer adorned with a black head, but transformed into a cyan one.
This was one of the Hall People’s close-combat secret techniques: Suodao Da, a fast and ruthless fighting style.
After bearing the first punch, Pao Bai's offensive stance stopped, and when the second punch came, he managed to block it but began to retreat.
"You can't do it! You're really not capable!" Zimu shouted as he pushed Suodao Da to its limits, countless fist shadows, carrying black and cyan grotesque mist, continuously bombarding Pao Bai's defensive measures—some were energy shields, some from weapons, and some from equipment.
Each punch didn’t break through Pao Bai’s defenses, but it forced the silver commander to keep retreating.
"Without the advantage of surprise, what else do you have? Do you think you can compete with me for women?"
Zimu had become addicted to the fight. In an instant, he didn’t know how many punches he had thrown. Even if he had the chance to kill Pao Bai now, he didn't want it. He just wanted to beat this guy in front of him like a sandbag, until one moment, he turned him into a pile of meat that was unrecognizable.
The stormy attacks and impenetrable defenses from both sides illustrated their strengths, becoming intense and violent in this life-and-death moment.
Boom!
Pao Bai, who had been in a defensive state, shouted, and both of them retreated.
"What? Tapping the palm?" Zimu said in astonishment.
Tapping the palm wasn’t a skill or ability; it was the name of a technique that referred to the ability to guide the chaotic and volatile energy around them during battle in a delicate manner to achieve certain desired effects.