"Golden Bell Shield, huh? Let's see how well it holds up. Can you even get back up? I'm waiting for your 'shield.'" Ye Wudao approached Fujimoto Gang and gestured with a hand, speaking in a disdainful tone.
Fujimoto Gang, sent flying by Ye Wudao's deft use of the opponent's force, had all twelve of his ribs broken. It would be a miracle if he could stand up and fight Ye Wudao again.
Fujimoto Gang kept coughing up blood, his eyes filled with sheer terror as he looked at Ye Wudao. He had never encountered an enemy who could injure him with a single move.
"What... what technique did you use?"
Massive internal bleeding was occurring within Fujimoto Gang's body, and he was growing weaker by the moment. Now, it wasn't just his mouth spitting up blood; blood was oozing ceaselessly from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. It was clear he wouldn't survive much longer.
"Using softness to overcome hardness, Tai Chi," Ye Wudao said casually.
"Tai Chi..."
