Fighting Zhang Hua

Bi Yize leaned in close, close enough that their faces were almost pressed together. Qie Xieling who was easily irritated by random fragrances clenched his fist and with a swift, fluid motion, he thrust his arm forward, the force behind his punch enough to shatter rock. 

But just inches from Bi Yize's face, Qie Xieling's fist came to an abrupt halt, as if an invisible barrier had materialized before him. The sheer power emanating from his strike caused Bi Yize's hair to flutter wildly in the gust of force. Bi Yize remained unmoved his gaze locked with Qie Xieling's, a stoic calmness in his eyes contrasting with the ferocity of the moment.

Qie Xieling had managed to stop himself in time because another rule was to not lay a hand on someone outside the platform otherwise they would be disqualified.