“Big oaf, come on then…”
Chen Ping beckoned to the massive Da Hu.
“Da Hu, finish him, no holding back.”
Bao Hu roared.
Da Hu nodded, then leapt onto the stage.
Da Hu’s colossal frame landed heavily on the arena, the entire Bao Hu Hall trembling with the impact, dust from the ground rising into the air, forming a hazy mist under the lights.
His bell-like eyes locked onto Chen Ping, flames of savagery flickering in his pupils, his broad nostrils flaring with two streams of white vapour, as if a primordial beast were awakening.
“Little bug, I’ll crush you into pulp!”
Da Hu’s voice rumbled like muffled thunder, shaking the lanterns around the arena, their flames flickering wildly.
His tone carried a cruel excitement, as if he could already envision Chen Ping ground into a bloody mess.
Chen Ping merely smirked, the corner of his mouth curling into a dangerous arc.
He leisurely rolled up his sleeves, revealing arms that appeared slender but were sharply defined, then crooked a finger at Da Hu, “Come on, let’s see how much this big oaf weighs.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly throughout Bao Hu Hall, brimming with unshakable confidence.
Bao Hu threw his head back and laughed, his voice booming like a bell, “Kid, kneel and beg now, and I might leave you a whole corpse!”
Chen Ping gave a cold smile, offering no reply, only cracking his knuckles with a crisp sound.
This seemingly casual gesture inexplicably tightened Da Hu’s chest, his instincts warning him that this frail-looking opponent was far from ordinary.
Da Hu struck first, charging towards Chen Ping with sturdy legs like a moving mountain, the ground cracking under his stomps.
He let out a deafening roar, the sound waves rippling the protective barriers around the arena.
Then, his massive fist smashed towards Chen Ping with a whistling force, the air compressing into visible ripples, emitting a piercing sonic boom.
The power of this punch could level a small hill!
The crowd below covered their ears, some weaker cultivators even knocked over by the fist’s gust, their faces pale.
Some had already closed their eyes, unable to bear watching Chen Ping be pulverised.
Bai Yi stood at the edge of the arena, beads of sweat on his forehead, but seeing Chen Ping’s calm demeanour, he felt a slight relief.
Wiping his sweat, he muttered under his breath, “My son-in-law, you’d better hold up…”
Yet Chen Ping merely tilted his body, his movements as graceful as a stroll in a garden.
The enormous fist grazed his sleeve, smashing into the arena, instantly cratering the specially forged obsidian stage with a two-metre-wide pit, debris flying, dust billowing.
“Too slow.”
Chen Ping scoffed, his voice dripping with unmasked mockery. His figure blurred, and in the next moment, he appeared behind Da Hu, so fast no afterimage lingered.
“What?!”
Bao Hu shot up from his seat, eyes wide, staring in disbelief.
His fingers unconsciously crushed the armrest of his chair, wood splinters falling through his grip.
Chen Ping lightly leapt, landing on Da Hu’s shoulder, his movements as delicate as a falling leaf.
He crouched down, patting Da Hu’s stubbled cheek, his tone teasing, “Big oaf, didn’t your mum teach you to watch your back?”
Da Hu roared, reaching to grab Chen Ping on his shoulder, but caught only air. Chen Ping had already flickered to his other shoulder, thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Damn rat! Get down here!”
Da Hu thundered, his massive palms swatting at his own shoulders, but always missing by a hair.
To Chen Ping, his movements were as slow as a snail’s crawl.
