latelenovela Chapter 1329 - 643_2
Chapter 1329 - 643_2
Next, he thrust his right hip forward vigorously.
Utilizing this wild twisting force, his right fist thundered forward like a cannon shell toward the punching bag.
Bam!
The fist tore through the air and stopped abruptly in mid-air, meters away from the bag.
The living room was like a bomb was dropped, creating an extremely brief, dull explosion.
The speed of this punch clearly surpassed the speed of sound.
The airflow in front was forcibly compressed, causing the air to twist violently like a boiling surface.
A highly compressed air cannon formed and directly hit the black punching bag hanging in the center of the living room.
Boom—
With a muffled roar, a clear fist imprint appeared on the bag’s surface.
Clearly, without any substantial contact, just the high-pressure airflow from the air strike.
It even made this 800-kilogram giant sway violently backward.
The immense impact force propelled the punching bag, causing the steel chains at the top to emit an ear-piercing creaking sound.
The thick curtains, meters away, were suddenly lifted by the whirlwind, flapping wildly against the walls.
Even the sturdy glass windows vibrated violently, humming non-stop under the air pressure.
Fang Cheng slowly retracted his right arm and gazed at the swaying heavyweight bag with a satisfied smile.
He was extremely pleased with the results of this strength verification.
Given the remote attack’s formidable impact force, the destructive power when actually hitting a target is imaginable.
"Since the strength test is done, let’s see how much speed has increased after breaking through 81 points in agility."
Fang Cheng clenched his fist and muttered to himself.
He had initially planned to test his running speed’s limit during his morning exercise at the beach.
After all, the environment there is open and sparsely populated, more suitable for taking on the challenge of breaking the sound barrier.
But now, his blood and energy had not entirely calmed down.
Fang Cheng indulged in playfulness and a new thought suddenly appeared in his mind.
Just as the punching bag swung to its highest point and was about to fall.
Fang Cheng’s gaze slightly condensed, and his body suddenly activated.
Whoosh!
He lightly tapped the ground with his toe and instantly appeared near the bag, seemingly ignoring air resistance.
Following that, his front foot gently stepped forward, and his arms drew multiple blurry shadows in front of him, repeatedly striking toward the bag.
Deafening chain explosion sounds erupted inside the room in rapid succession.
One invisible air cannon after another was released, tightly hitting the thick outer surface of the bag.
The turbulent airflow rampaged through the living room, turning into a fierce miniature hurricane.
Several napkins that hadn’t been put away on the coffee table were blown into the air, instantly torn into tiny shreds by the strong wind.
Large potted plants at the corner were swaying wildly, with their wide leaves incessantly rustling.
The metal chandelier overhead swayed left and right in the wind, emitting a groaning sound of overbearing weight.
The 800-kilogram monster, filled with high-density iron sand, was tossed upward by the force and trembled violently.
And just as the bag swung up again, Fang Cheng’s footsteps changed abruptly, beginning to move rapidly around the bag.
His speed was so fast that his trajectory produced a temporary sense of spatial distortion, accompanied by a piercing air howl.
Around the gigantic black punching bag, eight "Fang Cheng" suddenly appeared.
Each figure was condensed to the extreme, maintaining distinct attack postures.
Some were gathering strength for a frontal punch, some sweeping horizontally from the left, others delivering knee strikes in mid-air from the right...
This was not some supernatural illusion of clones, but because his movement speed had completely exceeded the capture limits of the human retina.
The visual afterimage left behind by the previous positions hadn’t dissipated, and his body was already flashing to the next node, making new moves.
Eight residual images linked end to end around the bag, forming a suffocating strangling circle.
And as the bag was almost simultaneously hit from various directions, it eerily hovered, maintaining a delicate balance.
The surface quivered intensely, as if enduring unimaginable torture.
Whoosh—
Accompanied by a gust of wind, Fang Cheng returned to the starting position, halting his moves.
All the "clones" merged back within that fraction of a second, like birds returning to the nest.
The swirling airwaves gradually calmed.
The paper scraps in mid-air fell like snowflakes, and the branches and leaves of the plants halted their sway.
The thick curtains also dropped back to their original positions.
In the living room, only the chains at the top of the heavyweight bag still emitted slight creaking and swaying sounds.
Fang Cheng slowly stopped his actions, let out a hot, impure breath.
Then he lowered his head, his gaze landing on the sports floor he had stepped on.
The smooth lacquer surface was pristine, without any cracks, not even a trace of a slight dent.
He raised his eyebrows, grinning.
Just now, to purely test his body movement, he deliberately suppressed his terrifying strength, avoiding a heavy stomp to gain initial explosive momentum, and instead used an extremely light footwork technique.
Even with such restraint, without utilizing the backward thrust of the ground, he effortlessly broke the sound barrier in that limited space, leaving nearly substantial residual images.
This kind of controlled speed is obviously more suitable for daily activities.
Avoiding stomping and shattering the ground during every run or attack, making it feel like he’s part of a demolition crew, destroying everything in sight.
Such actions draw too much attention and can easily lead to unnecessary trouble.
Of course, if he were to thoughtlessly stomp and crack the ground, allowing leg strength to fully explode, converting the ground’s thrust entirely into speed.
The power would be certainly more terrifying than the previous attempt.
An image flashed in Fang Cheng’s mind.
Him creating a pit at his feet, turning into a hypersonic missile tearing through the neighborhood.
In that state, even the most advanced military radar and high-speed cameras could only capture a series of blurry illusions.
He gently shook his head, breaking off the exaggerated image in his mind.
His gaze shifted smoothly to the shelf in the western corner.
Lying there quietly was the dumbbell handle he had crunched into two parts with one hand, and the barbell plate that had been squeezed and fused into scrap iron.
Looking at these daunting masterpieces, Fang Cheng increasingly realized the vital importance of agility attribute improvement.
Agility granted him not only control over his inflated muscles or speed when breaking the sound barrier, but also absolute command over every muscle fiber via nerve endpoints.
Without these 81 points of agility as balance and guidance, solely relying on the 80 points of strength attribute, he wouldn’t have been able to move effortlessly and leave no trace.
If the massive strength remained on the verge of losing control, even a casual handshake with someone could potentially crush their hand bones into powder if he slightly miscontrolled the force.
Fang Cheng shook his head, internally warning himself.
This world-destroying destructive power is indeed alluring.
But without sufficient control to manage it, he would resemble a beast, harming those close to him at any moment.
If reached that point, regret would come too late, reducing him to a solitary monster.
The surroundings returned to tranquility.
Sunlight penetrated through the clear wall windows, casting bright patches on the light blue sports floor.
Fang Cheng basked in the morning light.
The consecutive bursts moments ago left a thin layer of sweat on his skin.
Beads of sweat latched onto his muscle contours, faintly radiating with a sheen.
He seemed like a sword freshly sheathed, hiding untapped potential.
He took a deep breath, slowly suppressing the battle intent brewing within.
After an exhilarating release of violence, the surging blood and energy gradually calmed.
Fang Cheng opened his fingers, gazing at his smooth hand showing no sign of calluses.
The fiery gaze slowly faded, turning into a contemplative sentiment:
"It’s a pity that now, I might find it hard to find a willing opponent to take a solid punch head-on."