As the dust of Ethan's punch hung in the air, a realization struck Sam with a jolt—if not for his body's instinctive reaction, forged over countless battles, he might have been pierced through by that very blow.
"I was too careless," he muttered bitterly, "I nearly tumbled down Kain's path…"
His heart hammered. This was no ordinary strike.
A physical cultivator devoid of spiritual techniques, yet delivering what seemed like heavenly martial arts force? Could it be the mysterious power of essence and blood, a special art?
Sam's mind reeled in horror. The power and strength behind the punch was terrifying.
Snapping back to control, he stretched out his palm and retrieved the spear from Allen's side, still pulsating with residual spiritual energy.
Sam was a spearman in the truest sense, embodying the complete spear art with precise, devastating skills and spear intent far exceeding Allen's crude techniques.
