Training was the whole reason behind that endeavor. Liam wanted to develop a fighting style suitable for him, maximizing his inborn traits while building battle experience.

Ideally, Liam would even avoid relying on his fingers and knuckles since the Metal Hand had conditioned them, forcing his training into a specific direction, limiting what he would have otherwise developed.

That wasn’t exactly easy since most of Liam’s education came from the Divine Cult, which used those body parts. Without those, he was left with superior physical strength and senses, which could only get him so far.

However, those inborn advantages could act as a foundation on which Liam could build something more personal, and he had a guiding star.

Robert’s fighting style had been truly impressive. It followed no strict battle stance or technique, but still relied on the entirety of his body with confidence Liam had never seen anyone else wield.

There were kicks, shoulder bashes, punches, blows with knees and elbows, making Robert both unpredictable and swift. He could attack in any situation, from every direction, and with everything in his possession, making him a true champion worth taking inspiration from.

Liam was big on imitation. It was how he had learned most things in his life, be it from animals or humans. Still, he also realized the approach’s limits. He was different for better or worse, so copying someone would always bring inferior results.

Nevertheless, as Robert himself had said, the solution was to keep fighting, so Liam would do exactly that, trying new things to see what stuck. Sadly, his first experience with a kick wasn’t it.

Liam lowered his feet and forgot about the fainted cultivator in the wall. His mind was set on the matter. If his opponents died, so be it. If they survived, he would ignore them.

The cage had changed greatly during that short exchange. The young man to Liam’s right was still weeping on the floor, while the swordsman was sitting down, his figure riddled with bleeding holes, killed by the debris.

Meanwhile, the rugged man and the old woman were exchanging blows in quite flashy fashion.

The man had the same idea as Liam. He stomped and slammed his arms on the floor, sending wave-like ripples at his opponent, causing explosions and simple rises of platforms.

Everything unfolded right under the old woman, messing with her foothold, wanting to destabilize and expose her to the debris her opponent kept punching her way, but she never once fell for that trap.

No matter what unfolded under the woman’s feet, her figure always slid away, riding ethereal blue currents. Her arms also rose and descended nonstop, performing deceptively slow gestures that deflected the incoming debris.

Some pebbles even flew back at the rugged man, a few slamming on him and drawing blood. The injuries weren’t significant, but he kept failing to create any hole in his opponent’s defense.

Things soon grew more chaotic since Liam joined the fray.

Liam had no real interest in winning. His goal was to fight, which was why he ignored the rooting expert curled on the floor. The old woman also sounded harder to deal with, so he went for the rugged man, making things more challenging for him on purpose.

Truth was, Liam even avoided taking the man by surprise, slowing himself on purpose. He needed a proper fight, and he got one.

The rugged man noticed Liam with the corner of his eye and stomped, a wall rising in his direction, shaking to no end until it exploded into a widespread barrage of debris.

Liam could easily turn away, retreating until the debris lost power before resuming his assault. However, he had already seen that attack’s power, so he opted for a more reckless strategy.

What pierced others might not necessarily hurt Liam. His skin might not be anything special, but the muscles underneath were, so he lowered his figure, crossed his arms, and accelerated.

Sharp bullets slammed all over Liam, drawing blood, but failing to pierce deep enough to be of any concern. He acted like the bear during the landslide, charging forward despite the obstructions, anything standing in his way shattering.

Both the rugged man and the old woman shifted their attention to the new threat but reacted differently. The latter slid back on one of her blue currents, pointing her arm forward to unleash a series of water bullets.

The bullets didn’t target the rugged man. They headed for the area behind him, cutting his path of retreat, wanting to force him to fight against the new threat.

In the second the rugged man lost to assess the bullets, Liam was already on him, his left palm raised and lunging forward.

However, black veins covered the rugged man all over. The palm slammed on his crossed arms, but his entire figure trembled. Nothing bled, but the might unleashed by that simple strike made the expert’s instincts cry in danger.

Liam calmly assessed the impact. If he had used his body-enhancing pill, his palm would have broken his opponent’s arms despite the defensive technique. A proper punch might have achieved similar results, and he was certain his fingers would have drawn blood.

But that result wasn’t entirely dissatisfactory. Liam saw his opponent shake, struggling to remain on his feet. He had almost broken through the defensive technique with physical strength alone. Even without pills, his muscles were in the realm of martial arts.

’Weak,’ Liam summarized in his mind what his subconscious had already processed.

The palm strike had Liam’s charge behind it, but his battle stance had been imperfect. If he had used his legs better, he would have unleashed more power. The issue was that he couldn’t do that while running.

But an arm was a relatively weak part of the body, or rather, it wasn’t the strongest, not even close. Individual limbs didn’t take the throne, either. The crown went to attacks that used every muscle available.

Battle stances caused exactly that, but Liam had lost the initiative there. His opponent had blocked his attack without suffering heavy repercussions, meaning it was his turn. His Qi had even gone into the floor already, spikes rising from it.

Theory urged Liam to retreat, but he had seen one attack that could fit in that narrow window, both from Robert and Simon. His legs bent slightly, his feet pushed, and his figure half-turned, his palm sliding over his opponent’s arms to make room for a following blow.

Liam hurled the entirety of himself forward through a sharp move so sudden and powerful that the floor under his feet cracked. His left arm returned to his side in the meantime, adding strength and stability to his shoulder bash.

A cracking noise unfolded at that point, but it was impossible to see its result since the rugged man flew away.