that made the air shimmer faintly. He was trying to use a pressure strike, one of the simplest ways for a low-level cultivator to make his strength appear greater. Qiao Zhi watched the energy gather around his right hand. Its movement was uneven, and the qi surged in pulses rather than flowing smoothly. She could see the exact moment the technique would become unstable. Instead of attacking first, she waited until he committed to the strike. Then she stepped in close and touched his forearm with the heel of her palm.
