Athletics Hall, open training floor.
Andrew Han's expression was calm, like a vast and tranquil ocean. Step by step, he walked toward the concrete ring.
Ethan Tang was already standing below the ring, his face filled with uncertainty and shock.
As for Sean Sun, his arms were positioned—one forward, one back—in a cautious fighting stance. His gaze locked onto Andrew Han, overflowing with battle intent. His spirit was wild but not arrogant, focused solely on overturning the peerless prodigy.
Pa-da.
Pa-da.
Andrew Han continued forward, stepping with his left foot toward the ring. He resembled a primordial beast from ancient times, slowly emerging from its cage, gradually revealing its majesty.
Silence!
A deathly silence enveloped the entire hall!
Every Martial Arts Program student's expression shifted slightly. They felt as if their hearts were being gripped alive; it was like drowning, able only to watch as Andrew Han stepped forward toward the ring.
Suddenly.
Andrew Han lifted his gaze and stared at Sean Sun. "Are you ready?"
Heh.
Sean Sun sneered inwardly. Trying to distract me? Ridiculous. No matter how weak Andrew Han might seem, he would never underestimate him.
"Come on!"
"I'll give it my all. Just hope you don't lose too quickly and disgrace the name 'Peerless Prodigy!'" Sean Sun stood tall and proud, his energy almost eclipsing Andrew Han's imposing presence.
The next moment.
Andrew Han's lips curled into a faint smile. "Good."
As soon as the words left his mouth—boom!
His right leg surged with Condensed Mist Internal Power, faint light seeping through his dark jeans. Muscles tightened, force activated, and the tough denim tore apart... His right foot stomped down with unparalleled, brute strength, shattering the concrete floor on impact.
The entire hall shook!
It was a deep, oppressive tremor that reverberated throughout the space!
Immediately followed by another stomp, another acceleration—in just an instant, three consecutive thunderous booms echoed throughout the hall.
Shua-la!
Andrew Han bounced forward three times, stacking his speed, finally transforming into a massive, high-speed tank—a blur that roared to life and thundered across the floor.
Southern Thousand‑Mile March!
In his mind's eye, he saw a scene at sunset—a lone rider, horse and spear, galloping through the mountains into battle, charging forward without regret.
It was a blazing emotion.
With the third acceleration complete, Andrew Han thrust his right palm forward, like the iron spear of the Southern Thousand‑Mile March—sharp, unfathomable, and impossibly heavy. As Condensed Mist Internal Power surged, his palm chopped down toward the stunned Sean Sun.
Shua-la!