At close quarters, no art of hand or seal could match the raw test of reflexes and technique. The Three Mountain City cultivator had leaped mountain crags since childhood, fought tigers and slain lions — his close-quarters gambit had always carried weight.
But Jiang Chen's Four-Spirit Body Refining Art was a soldier's exclusive heritage, completed on the Deduction Platform of the Ethereal Realm. At this stage, it was the finest body art in existence.
Muscle by muscle, his body burned. His vital blood crouched in every fiber, quiet in ordinary days, but on this field it erupted with ferocity none had seen from him before.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Fists against fists. Knees against elbows. The two men traded blows like war drums.
Jiang Chen had never known combat so pure, so physical. In the clash, he felt the Four-Spirit Art seeping into his very bones. He had trained hard before, but he was a Dao Academy boy at heart — he had never truly understood body refinement. Now he did. His blood ran fuller. His flesh grew harder. His Dao essence danced livelier.
And his opponent's strength... faded.
With one final, brutal head-butt, the Three Mountain City cultivator reeled backward.
Not because he wanted to stop. Because he had nothing left. Not a single drop of strength remained to squeeze out.
Only Jiang Chen knew how hard the man had fought. Three times Jiang Chen had thought the fight settled; three times the man's fists came again. He felt it — the iron will of that Three Mountain City cultivator. He wanted to win with everything he had. They refused to be called savages!
But the harder they fought, the more the crowd whispered: look at those savages, throwing their lives away.
The judge raised his flag. The fight was over.
The crowd went silent for one breath, then exploded.
This was Maple City, after all — Jiang Chen's home ground. And Zhao Yan had hired a dozen brawny men to shout until their throats gave out, paid so well they screamed with more devotion than An'an herself.
In the roar, Jiang Chen reached out and caught his opponent before he could fall.
"Your name?" Jiang Chen asked, honoring the man who had fought him.
The judge had announced both names before the match. Jiang Chen hadn't bothered to remember. Like too many ordinary people, he had quietly looked down on these so-called mountain savages — even if he never showed it.
The Three Mountain City cultivator swayed, leaning his full weight on Jiang Chen's arm. His eyes were swollen shut, slits in a bruised face.
"Yang Xiong!" He grinned. "My name is Yang Xiong!"
* * *
Outside the lines, Jiang An'an clapped for her brother when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"An'an!"
Qingzhi bounced in the crowd, squeezing toward her friend. An old man followed, thin and bent, his back badly hunched. Yet through that packed crowd he moved without friction, as if the sea of people parted around him unseen.
Everyone was curious about An'an's friends — especially the little girl who had once wanted to punch Jiang Chen.
Huang Azhan's eyes worked differently from most. He saw the hunched old man first.
The old man's face... was strange. Though his expression was grave, it gave off a faint, inescapable aura of the lewd.
Huang Azhan elbowed Zhao Yan. "Hey. That old man."
"What about him?"
Huang Azhan lowered his voice. "Don't you think his head looks... like... like..."
"Like what?"
Huang Azhan said nothing, and glanced below the old man's belt.
Zhao Yan tensed. "What are you looking at!" Then realization dawned, and he squinted at the old man. "Huh... it does look a bit..."
The hunched old man suddenly raised his head and glared at them. He had heard every word.
"Enough, enough, watch the match." Huang Azhan turned away guiltily, straining to look innocent.
"Ehem." Zhao Yan coughed and lifted An'an from Ling Chuan's shoulders onto his own. "An'an, your brother Ling Chuan is tired. Sit with me for a while."
He reasoned the old man would hardly beat up a man holding a child.
By now An'an was thoroughly familiar with Zhao Yan. She didn't mind whose shoulders she rode, and chattered happily with Qingzhi.
"My brother just won! He's so strong!"
* * *
Yang Xiong was carried off on a stretcher.
The other two matches had ended long ago: Three Mountain City's second cultivator had floored his Riverview opponent with crushing dominance, and Lin Zhengli of Riverview had easily beaten Maple City's other first-year.
But the crowd's attention stayed with Jiang Chen and Yang Xiong — fist to fist, bone to bone.
"Two weaklings pecking at each other. Maple City truly has no taste, not even among its own folk." Lin Zhengli sneered at the other winner, fishing for agreement.
The Three Mountain City victor was not amused.
"Show some respect for your opponent," he said coldly.
In his eyes, Lin Zhengli was insulting not just Jiang Chen but Yang Xiong — and every cultivator of Three Mountain City.
Lin Zhengli's olive branch had been slapped away. His face soured. "Tch. Savages."
The Three Mountain City cultivator's eyes burned, but he said nothing more.
First round done, each city had one victor — a draw. Next came the rotation, order decided by lot. Luck mattered now.
A judge from the county academy handled the drawing, guaranteeing fairness.
He pulled a slip from the tube and read: "Jiang Chen!"
Ling Chuan and Zhao Yan exhaled at once. This meant Lin Zhengli fought the Three Mountain City cultivator first, and Jiang Chen faced each of them in turn. The best possible draw.
Jiang Chen stepped aside, yielding the center to the two fighters.
As they passed, Lin Zhengli smirked. "Lucky. You get to stay in one more round."
The meaning was plain: when the second rotation began, he would beat Jiang Chen so badly the fight could not continue.
Jiang Chen smiled. "Hope your luck holds too. So you're still around to meet me."
Meaning: Lin Zhengli might not survive the first match at all.
For lip service, Jiang Chen had been schooled by Zhao Yan long enough to give as good as he got. Still, he couldn't understand the man's hostility. Because of the banners Zhao Yan had commissioned? A properly educated elite disciple, sent to represent Riverview's academy — so thin-skinned?
Jiang Chen was curious about the real answer.
As for the fight itself? He felt no fear.
Compared to Lin Zhengli's bluster, the Three Mountain City cultivator said nothing at all. He only watched his opponent.
A far more serious attitude toward the coming battle. Which meant he wanted the win far more badly.