Cara Memukul Dengan Tenaga Dalam Novels & Stories

It was like I was being beaten unilaterally when I did strength combat with them. Soon we arrived at the area where the sandbags for grappling were placed, and Adrian stepped directly in front of me. “Watch this. You have to use the power of your waist to throw a punch, and you have to throw a punch with your waist to get maximum effect.” Adrian said as he demonstrated. At the moment he exerted his force, the outline of his muscles became clearer, and the tremendous force attacked on the sandbag, making it sway around almost to detach itself from the shelf.

“That’s complete bullshit. When you’re in a real fight and your life’s on the line, there are no rules. You hit that bastard wherever and whenever you get the chance.” He walked me through the most effective ways to target weak points: striking the throat with the webbing between thumb and forefinger, eye gouges, setting up for a solid kick or knee to the groin, the right way to drive a heel stomp down on the bridge of a foot, and exactly where to land a palm strike to the solar plexus. It was only the end of the second day, and already I felt like I had a decent handful of tools to get myself out of a bad spot and escape. I was way more confident than I’d been yesterday. Knowing you actuall

Xiao Chen glared at him and said, "You deserve it! I think it's not hard enough!" "Not hard enough?" That man narrowed his eyes and punched at Prince Zhao in a flash. His move blew up a gust that caused people nearby to retreat rapidly. This punch was weak, even weaker than that of Xiao Yuan. Xiao Chen raised his hand to hook his arm and took advantage of that man's momentum to throw that man 16 or 17 meters away, stirring up dust. This was Xiao Family's martial arts technique—deflecting one thousand pounds with only four ounces of energy.

Looking at the dummy in front of her, Emma tried to calm her racing heart and stared at its head, mumbling, “You think I can strike a kick that high?” “It’s all about confidence, speed, and force. No matter how big your opponent is, you have to land your blows before they are able to counterattack. It is essential to hit hard.” Belinda responded patiently, “Now, try again… And this time aim higher. Do not make gravity your competitor, but use it in your favor.” Taking a deep breath, Emma closed her eyes tightly and concentrated, focusing all of the energy in her body on her feet, trying to control every fiber of muscle in her body.

It connected with a soft thud. “Weak,” he stated flatly. “Again.” I hit it harder. Thud. “That’s still weak, sunshine. Where’s the power? You’re moving like a feather. You think that’ll stop anything?” I gritted my teeth, but didn’t let his words deter me; my eyes focused on the punching bag. “You need to put your whole body into it. Imagine what you’re fighting for.” I took a deep breath, trying to force down the feeling of frustration I felt before throwing another punch, trying to channel my anger.

He punched the man with all his strength, trying to kill him. Three punches in a row caused the man to fly out and a stone wall to explode. Chu Xun flashed, rushed to another person, and raised his fist to punch him. The man was shocked. Chu Xun's strength was beyond his imagination. He struck out with his hands repeatedly, and his Internal Breath surged out like a tide. Bang!

The irony of life, isn’t that right? One of the nights, after a long day of training, Ethan pulls me aside. “Hazel, I want to teach you something special.” I look at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” He smiles, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “It’s a move our father taught us. It’s called the ‘Lunar Strike’. It’s powerful, but it takes a lot of energy, and you have to angle your body just right to get it.” I listen intently as he explains the move. It involves a quick, powerful punch combined with a burst of energy and a variation of the roundhouse kick before that. It’s designed to catch the opponent off guard and deliver a devastating blow.

The young woman was clearly still practicing her basic skills, which was fist strength. "Calm down." An elderly voice rang out from a pavilion in the yard. "Grandpa, I still can't get fist strength," the young woman said rather anxiously. "The force should come from within, not from brute strength. It should flow smoothly, like a river," the old man explained calmly. The young woman seemed enlightened. She swung a few more punches, which carried slightly more force with them. Sebastian nodded imperceptibly. The young woman's perceptive powers were fairly strong.

“This is your stance. Let the force and momentum propel from this stance, and it shall strike true. Use these words I told you: visualize the punching bag as your worst enemy. Feel that rush of anger and adrenaline, but don’t rush with it; instead, let it course through your veins until you become one with it.” I closed my eyes, listening to everything he said. “And strike.” I punched, and when I opened my eyes, I was shocked at what stood before me. The punching bag didn’t fly away or burn away like the other two; instead, my fist passed through it with utmost precision. “And you struck true.” I looked at my hands and then at Steven. “Who taught you this?” He shrugged. “My father.” “Then he

The thought of Athan taking Imogen away from me fuels my anger and I go all out: Muscles coiled with tension, I unleash a primal roar that echoes through the whole room, a declaration of my unyielding determination. With lightning speed, I launch myself at my foe yet again, our clash sending shockwaves through the ground beneath us. Every strike is a calculated dance of power and precision, my instincts guiding me flawlessly. The sound of bone meeting bone reverberates in my ears, fueling my relentless assault. Adrenaline surges through my veins, heightening my senses as I dodge and counter with lightning-fast reflexes.