Titan Spirit Versus Prajna, External Versus Internal, Jill Young Versus Jack Young

The base has a training ground, but it obviously doesn't meet Jill Young's standards. Solid, spacious, private—none of it was up to her satisfaction.

But she finally found a suitable spot: a half-abandoned shelter, one of those underground facilities where folks hunker down when Kaiju attack. About the size of a soccer field, but half-collapsed and way past its expiration date—a disaster waiting to happen. Only a few flickering lights worked down here, blinking like they couldn't decide if they were on or off.

In the center, Jill Young and Jack Young stood facing each other, ten meters apart. Under the erratic lights, their shadows danced and shifted, swirling around like the air itself was alive.

"Never thought I'd get to fight myself—this is a golden opportunity, no way I'm passing it up." Jill pointed at her counterpart, a sly grin on her lips. "Sure, you are me, but don't expect me to go easy. You'd better go all out and show me what you've got!"

Jack Young didn't say a word. His eyes widened a bit, gaze locked on Jill. He raised his arms, shook out his shoulders, and drew circles with his feet, settling into a rock-solid stance.

Jill, on the other hand, cracked a smile, balled her fists, and unleashed her aura, striding forward. Each step was lightning-quick, but somehow looked like slow motion—her ferocious energy kept ramping up, warping the air around her. Not even Zhao Han, at his beefiest, ever got Jill this pumped. Sure, Zhao Han was strong, but he wasn't a real martial artist, so he never gave Jill any real pressure.

But the calm Jack Young in front of her? Now that's a real opponent!

Facing such a worthy rival, Jill's blood was practically boiling—she was fired up!

Before you could say "fight," Jill had already stepped up to Jack, her fist blasting out like thunder. The punch tore through the air, booming loud enough to shake the walls. Even the wind from it sent Jack's clothes flapping, like they were about to get shredded.

She didn't hold back—this was her full power, no mercy. The wind came before the sound, the fist before the wind; the force of that punch was like a cannon blast. But Jack's eyes flashed with a ghostly light. Suddenly, he raised his hands—slow but perfectly timed—one hand caught her wrist, the other blocked her elbow, and with a smooth twist, he redirected Jill's thunderous punch off to the side.

"Oh? Five Senses Resonance, Twisting Force Dissipation—classic tricks for dealing with Old Veterans, huh? But don’t get cocky, I’m not one of those one-trick Old Veteran types!" The Old Veteran packs brute strength, but speed? Not so much. If you count stats like strength, agility, and speed, the Green Tyrant’s Old Veteran barely scrapes by on strength, is slower still, and agility’s just embarrassing. But Yang Qi’s got maxed-out stats across the board, and the kicker: "Subtle Change Sense? I know that too!"

It’s like lightning flickered in Yang Qi’s eyes. Her arm muscles danced, morphing from unstoppable heavy cannon to a sweeping dragon—every flick and swing packed a wallop, hell-bent on smashing Yang Qi’s stance. But Yang Qi’s palms rose and fell in rippling waves, and with a quick step, he was already behind her, locking her right arm in a textbook grappling move.

"Bagua Mysterious Footwork?" Yang Qi grinned. "I know that one too!" She twisted her feet, powered up, bones and muscles working in perfect sync. With a shrug and a pivot—just like she slipped out of Li Xuelian’s grip that one time—she broke free from Yang Qi’s hold, then chopped at his face with a hand like she was splitting the sky itself.

Yang Qi’s face stayed blank, but his eyes glowed with that unending, ghostly light—clearly, he had his second-stage sensory boost running the whole time. No words needed; they were totally in sync. Yang Qi went all out but just with one arm, while Yang Qi used both arms yet held back on the internal martial arts. They closed in, trading blows at point-blank range, both using Bagua Mysterious Footwork and basic fist techniques. Yang Qi’s palm never left Yang Qi’s arm—sometimes single-handed, sometimes double—always skin-to-skin, his Listening Force technique cranked up to the max.

The two spun around each other, looking more like they were slow dancing cheek-to-cheek than fighting. Not a sound, and the pace kept slowing, almost like there was no damage at all. But the ground beneath them kept shattering—every step left a footprint, the floor cracking with each move. After just a few exchanges, their footprints formed a perfect circle on the ground.

When Yang Qi took the last step and finished the circle, both kicked out at the same time. Their legs clashed midair—not just brute force, but a blend of hard and soft, stomp, thrust, and kick, all mixed together.

Bang! Both went flying back. Yang Qi flipped and landed steady as a rock. Seeing Yang Qi do the same, Yang Qi’s grin just kept getting bigger: "Nice! Listening Force—you’re better at it than I am!" Never had a rival like this before—someone who knew every trick, every thought, yet somehow, their styles had grown worlds apart.

It’s like using yourself as your own mirror.

Maybe that’s the luckiest thing in a lifetime.

"Alright, enough warm-up. Let’s get to the main event." Sticking with Bagua Palm so far was just a nod to their martial arts roots. But come on, you don’t walk this road without picking up a few tricks of your own.

Yang Qi spread her hands like dragon claws, stance wide—dragon coiled, tiger crouched, her energy, spirit, and focus locked in as one.

Across from her, Yang Qi raised his hands—cool as a cypress, steady as plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum. Calm, but sharp as ever.

Their stances looked almost identical, but the vibe couldn’t be more different. It was like the world split in two—one side wild thunder and raging fire, the other soaring peaks and drifting clouds.

Next second—a blast ripped through the cramped space. The ground under Yang Qi’s feet shattered from the recoil, and she shot forward like a phantom. Like a jump cut in a choppy movie—one frame the floor explodes, the next her leg’s already sweeping toward Yang Qi’s chest with unstoppable force.

That kick was too fast, too strong—no dodging it. If Yang Qi took it head-on, his Titan Spirit Method was a whole layer below hers, meaning he’d lose out on raw power by more than double. Face a kick like that, and most folks would be sent straight to the afterlife. Because it wasn’t just brute force; it was Yang Qi’s wild, unstoppable spirit—the kind of swagger you only earn by smashing through chaos and rising to the top. The Eternal Night Queen—no exaggeration there.

(This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, click next page to keep reading!)

But Yang Qi caught it.

In that instant, Yang Qi slapped the inside of Yang Qi’s thigh. Not much force—compared to that kick, it was like a toddler’s tap. But Yang Qi’s leg trembled. Under the absolute control of Subtle Change Sense, her balance suddenly went haywire—impossible, but real!

Yang Qi seized that opening and fired back with a kick of his own.

Bang—chaotic air currents blasted out. Yang Qi spun in midair, landed light and steady, barely a scratch. But she looked down at her leg, then up with wide, amazed eyes: "So this is Internal Martial Arts?! Getting hit by it feels like this?"

Honestly, Yang Qi had never actually known what getting hit by Internal Martial Arts felt like. Sure, she’d been hit before—like that time on the train from Shanghai to Tianjin, when Grandpa Tang puppeteered Yang Qi’s body to take down that bald brute. That was definitely Tang Internal Martial Arts at work. But back then, Yang Qi had no clue—just dazed and awestruck, nothing else. Once she mastered her own style, she never ran into another Tang Internal Martial Arts expert.

Not until today did she really get it—this stuff is magic. As an enemy of Internal Martial Arts, once your 'qi' is exposed, it’s nightmare mode. This style can hijack and detonate your own energy, making you self-destruct from the inside. The Green Tyrant’s Old Veteran got shredded by Internal Martial Arts—no way even a beefed-up T-virus could bring him back. T’s just T, not Blacklight.

But—Yang Qi started grinning, then burst out laughing: "Turns out, my Internal Martial Arts isn’t flawless after all!"

That’s right—there’s no such thing as an unbeatable style, only unbeatable people. Think a martial art is perfect? That just means you don’t know it well enough, haven’t hit its limits. Seeing things from the other side, Yang Qi realized: Internal Martial Arts isn’t an instant-win button!

"Hahaha!" With a bold laugh, Yang Qi’s aura surged and she launched another wild assault. Her strength and speed were overwhelming. In seconds, it was like a hundred Yang Qis were attacking from every direction—one moment a sweeping kick, the next a brutal chop from above, a flurry that left no room to breathe.

But Yang Qi stayed cool, holding steady no matter where the blows came from. With nimble palm strikes and finger jabs, he twisted Yang Qi’s moves out of shape, never losing the upper hand.

But Yang Qi wasn’t losing either. Even as she kept getting hit with Internal Martial Arts, her blood and energy rippled and shook, messing with her moves and focus. But Yang Qi knew her way around Internal Martial Arts—she gathered her scattered energy, kept it under control, and avoided taking real damage.

Bang bang—blows traded in a blink, and they’d already fought a hundred rounds. The more Yang Qi fought, the more hyped she got, her laughter echoing as the explosive air currents made the shaky lightbulb sway and creak. Finally, they closed in again—face-to-face, arms locked in grappling moves, both trying to grab and break free, legs and knees clashing faster than the eye could follow.

Just three feet apart, attack and defense changed in a heartbeat. For most folks, just watching would make your head spin. This kind of showdown was like the classic wuxia inner power duel—crammed into a tiny room, using every ounce of strength, skill, and smarts to turn the tables. Way more dangerous than any flashy move. Unless you’re a Martial Arts Grandmaster, there’s no way you could pull off a slugfest this extreme.

Thud! After one last clash, they finally broke apart, each moving to opposite sides.

Still ten meters apart, just like at the start. Their auras faded, back to normal—no need to keep fighting.