Soon, half an hour passed. Zhang Ping leaped onto the arena, swept his gaze across the crowd, and announced in a clear voice: “The third round of this competition, the final round, the ranking battle for the top three, now begins! First match: Zhang He versus Chen Yu!”
As his voice fell, the arena fell silent. Everyone’s eyes fixed on the stage. This arrangement clearly implied that Lin Xuan was the first-place contender, with Zhang He and Chen Yu dueling, and the winner facing Lin Xuan to decide the champion. No one was surprised by this. After all, in the previous matches, Lin Xuan had already demonstrated strength surpassing both Zhang He and Chen Yu.
Soon, the two stepped onto the stage. Once Zhang Ping declared the start, they engaged in fierce combat. Zhang He, aiming to win and challenge Lin Xuan for first place, held nothing back and fought with full force. Chen Yu, vying for second place, also gave his all. However, both were among the Four Prodigies of Qingyu City, and their strength wasn’t vastly different. Zhang He, unwilling to reveal his trump card early, found himself locked in a stalemate with Chen Yu, neither gaining the upper hand. The battle was intense. The spectators watched with rapt attention, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Yet, in terms of sheer impact, it paled in comparison to Lin Xuan’s earlier instant defeat of Wu Qili.
Unnoticed, over ten minutes passed. Ultimately, Zhang He’s advantage prevailed, and he gained the upper hand. A few minutes later, Zhang He delivered a full-force strike, sending Chen Yu flying off the stage, securing victory and temporarily claiming second place. Zhang Ping announced: “This match, Zhang He wins. Rest for half an hour before the next match.”
Zhang Ping’s expression remained grim, showing no hint of joy at Zhang He’s victory. Defeating Chen Yu was only to be expected—nothing to celebrate. Only defeating Lin Xuan would warrant excitement and celebration. Yet, even the match against Chen Yu had been so arduous. It was hard to imagine what the upcoming duel with Lin Xuan would be like. Even as the head of the city lord’s estate, Zhang Ping wasn’t optimistic about Zhang He’s chances in the next match.
Zhang He, his eyes blazing with fighting spirit, glanced at Lin Xuan before stepping off the stage to rest and recover in the stands. Lin Xuan, however, let out a faint sneer.
Soon, another half hour passed. Zhang Ping announced loudly: “Second match: Lin Xuan versus Zhang He!”
Instantly, the arena fell into dead silence. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, their gazes fixed on Lin Xuan and Zhang He, brimming with anticipation. This was likely the most intense match of the competition—the one that would decide the champion. Naturally, expectations ran high.
Under the crowd’s watchful eyes, Lin Xuan and Zhang He rose from their seats in the stands. Soon, they stood on the stage, facing each other. Zhang Ping, his expression solemn, glanced at both and said: “Begin the match!” He then stepped aside, awaiting the impending battle.
Lin Xuan remained calm, making no move to attack first. His gaze swept over Zhang He. *Whoosh!* “Name: Zhang He.” “Cultivation: Initial Opening Aperture Realm.” “Talents: Upper-grade cultivation talent, lower-grade strength talent, inferior-grade speed talent.” “Martial Arts: Mountain-Shaking Fist (Second-Tier Upper-Grade, Minor Mastery)... Blood Boiling Art (Second-Tier Upper-Grade, Beginner, Incomplete)...” “Personal Treasures: None.”
Looking at Zhang He’s attribute panel, Lin Xuan’s eyes flickered. With a thought, “Ding, consume 1000 energy points, replication successful. Obtained [Blood Boiling Art (Second-Tier Upper-Grade, Beginner, Incomplete)].” He declared its use. A faint warmth flowed through him. A hint of mockery gleamed in Lin Xuan’s eyes. “So, this incomplete blood-path martial art is Zhang He’s trump card,” he mused inwardly. His expression, however, remained unchanged. He had already mastered the Blood Boiling Art, understanding it could surge blood energy for a temporary boost in power. But Lin Xuan remained unfazed. With his numerous talents surpassing Zhang He’s, coupled with his high-level martial arts, even if Zhang He activated this blood-path technique and gained a significant power boost, it still didn’t concern him. Instead, he could use this to harvest more energy points. Lin Xuan’s expression turned contemplative. Moreover, the grade of this blood-path martial art exceeded his expectations. Though displayed as second-tier, replicating it had consumed 1000 energy points—a cost typically reserved for third-tier treasures. This indicated its power likely rivaled third-tier martial arts. Clearly, blood-path martial arts were far more potent than their peers at the same tier. Though only a temporary burst, it shouldn’t be underestimated. He’d need to be cautious if he encountered it again.
All this happened in the span of a breath, unnoticed by anyone.
Across from him, Zhang He, his expression grave, cupped his hands and said: “Lin Xuan, you’re strong! But defeating me won’t be that easy!” Zhang He’s words didn’t even hint at victory, showing that even with his trump card, he lacked confidence. Lin Xuan, seeing this, felt a chuckle rise within him. *This Zhang He is such a good guy, already starting to feed me energy points.* *But why not go all the way? Give me more energy points.* *In return, I won’t seriously injure you.* Outwardly, he remained impassive.
“Is that so? Let’s see, then?” Lin Xuan said calmly, throwing a punch. “Shattered Jade Fist!” The fist force surged, cracking the air as it passed, its momentum formidable. It carried even more power than the punch that had sent Wu Qili flying earlier. Its speed was blinding, turning into a blur of afterimages that left no room to dodge.
“Good!” Zhang He shouted, throwing a punch of his own. “Mountain-Shaking Fist!” His fist momentum was equally fierce. This was his strongest strike, aside from his final trump card. He wanted to test just how big the gap between him and Lin Xuan was.
Under the gaze of everyone present, the two fists collided. *Boom!* A thunderous explosion rang out, spreading in all directions, sending ripples through the air. This time, Lin Xuan’s body trembled slightly before steadying, unharmed. Across from him, Zhang He’s expression shifted. He felt a torrential force, like a surging flood, far beyond his ability to withstand. His body involuntarily stumbled backward. He retreated dozens of meters, barely stopping at the edge of the stage without falling off. In a competition match, only falling off the stage, voluntarily conceding, or losing all combat capability determined the outcome. Though Zhang He had nearly fallen, he held on, so it wasn’t a loss yet.
But the spectators sighed inwardly. One exchange had made the difference clear. Lin Xuan’s strength far surpassed Zhang He’s. This competition would likely crown Lin Xuan as the champion, they thought. Zhang He wasn’t bad either—he was the only one so far to withstand a punch from Lin Xuan without losing. He was far stronger than the other disciples. Unfortunately, he was up against Lin Xuan. Defeat was inevitable.
On the stage, Lin Xuan looked at Zhang He at the edge, clenched his fist, and nodded in satisfaction. “This time, I controlled my strength well.”