Chapter 124: The Elder

"Hmph, keep your eyes peeled and watch closely! A mere thirty-five hundred pounds is nothing!"

The old man’s arm surged with primal energy, the potent force flooding his limb as if he were pushing his power to its absolute zenith in a single instant. With a muffled grunt, he slammed his fist into the punch force tester. The machine emitted a deep, resonant hum, the sound far more guttural than before, signaling that it had reached a higher threshold of impact. Simultaneously, the numbers on the display spiked frantically, a sight that left the onlookers stunned.

"It really hit three thousand! He truly is a master," the young man beside him exclaimed loudly.

"Three thousand pounds? Heavens, this man is terrifying. To think that even at his age, he still possesses such formidable strength."

"Terrifying. When will I ever be able to strike with three thousand pounds of force?"

The senior disciple, Zhou Yang, cast his gaze toward the machine. The digital readout held steady at thirty-five hundred pounds—exactly as the old man had predicted, not a hair off.

"It seems his power is already showing signs of surpassing mine. I never expected that this old man, who looks so unremarkable, would possess such frightening strength."

"His technique is indeed powerful," a fellow disciple from the Yincheng Martial Arts Hall remarked. "Senior Brother, why don't you test your strength as well? I believe your power should be around thirty-eight hundred pounds by now."

Zhou Yang smiled, his expression one of absolute confidence. Even though his opponent had struck a terrifying thirty-five hundred pounds, that did not mean he lacked the hope of surpassing him; after all, he had not tested his full strength in a long time.

"I have been focusing my training on other areas lately and have neglected to test my striking power," Zhou Yang said confidently. "I shall take this opportunity to test my full strength and see exactly what level I have reached."

As Zhou Yang stepped toward the old man, a stir rippled through the crowd.

"That is Zhou Yang, the senior disciple of the Yincheng Martial Arts Hall, said to be the one the Hall Master values the most. He is going to test his strength—it seems he intends to steal the old man’s thunder."

"I can clearly see the dissatisfaction in the old man's eyes. It seems he feels challenged and won't let the Yincheng disciple outdo him."

"This is getting interesting. The Yincheng senior disciple versus the mysterious old man—whose strength will prove superior? Let’s wait and see! I really hope for a spectacular result."

"Hehe, I still hope Zhou Yang wins. After all, he is so handsome! The way he throws a punch is just stunning," a fan girl squealed.

"Can he be as handsome as my idol, Shen An? He is a man who has trained in the forbidden grounds of the Yincheng Martial Arts Hall," the beautiful Su Su retorted proudly. Having received an autograph from Shen An, she felt obligated to defend him.

"Zhou Yang is clearly the handsome one."

"I think Shen An is handsome, so what? Are you going to bite me for it?"

Shen An remained silent, feeling somewhat speechless that he had sparked a quarrel between two young beauties, though he found it rather amusing. He did not intervene, as he was also curious to see what kind of number the senior disciple could produce. Perhaps it would be something truly astonishing.

The old man watched Zhou Yang approach with a look of disdain. "Young man, it is best not to be too arrogant. Some things aren't achievable just because you want them to be. Try not to throw out your back; it’s best to know your limits."

"Grandfather, you are already well into your twilight years yet still train so diligently. If I were to lose to you, I would have no face left to continue training. Let me try my strength as well," Zhou Yang replied. Despite his sharp tongue, he respected the elderly; he treated the head of the Yincheng Martial Arts Hall like a father.

"Hmph, if you want to test your strength, go ahead. But dreaming of surpassing my thirty-five hundred pounds is exactly that—a dream. Two thousand pounds is likely your limit." The old man stood with his hands behind his back. Thirty-five hundred pounds required him to exert his full explosive power; he did not believe the young man could reach such heights.

Zhou Yang smiled faintly and began to channel his primal energy. He could feel his fist brimming with explosive power, a sensation that told him he had a good chance of exceeding the three-thousand-pound mark.

"Ha!" With a sudden shout, he slammed his fist into the machine. A deep, heavy rumble echoed out, *wum, wum, wum...*

The sound was jarringly intense, and the numbers on the display climbed rapidly. One thousand, fifteen hundred, two thousand, twenty-five hundred...

The numbers continued to soar, hitting three thousand in a flash—a terrifying figure in its own right.

"How is this possible? How did he reach three thousand so easily?" The old man’s hands dropped from behind his back, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Soon, the number surpassed thirty-five hundred, climbing until it reached thirty-eight hundred. It was a suffocating, terrifying display of power.

"Impossible... he hit the thirty-five hundred mark just like that." The old man was dumbfounded, his eyes nearly glued to the screen.

Even without Zhou Yang saying a word, the old man felt utterly shamed. He looked resentful, wanting to strike the machine again to reclaim his spotlight. Just then, he noticed another figure walking toward the machine. It was none other than Shen An.

Shen An hooked his lips into a faint smile. He looked at the machine, finding the device quite novel. What kind of number could he produce?

"I think I’ll give it a try. I wonder what number I can strike," Shen An muttered to himself. His words caught the attention of the old man. One wasn't enough? Now there was a second one?