However, Zhang Chen had to admit that this Little Fatty indeed had outstanding talent in Martial Dao; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to refine Martial Dao Qi Blood.
Among Wu Changming’s three great talents, the only one Zhang Chen hadn’t seen yet was Wu Ming’Er. It was said that this person had awakened a remarkable Bloodline Power; Zhang Chen decided he needed to silently keep an eye out during the competition.
Time passed swiftly; on the following morning, after the usual morning class, Liu Feng did not dismiss the group but instead gathered everyone at the martial arts arena:
"In the Yellow Heaven Dao’s tournament, the Ancestral Master seeks to select the foremost talent to become affiliated with the Water God, receive the Water God’s blessing, ascend to become an immortal Divine Spirit. Therefore, this is a rare opportunity for you all, and you must give it your all."
"The rules for this competition are simple: the age is restricted to disciples between ten and twenty-five years old. There is no limitation on fists or weapons; pair off in matches to determine the strongest. However, you must not deliver fatal strikes between fellow disciples; injuries are allowed, but killing is prohibited." Liu Feng’s eyes swept across the disciples in the arena, then the steward elder brought forth a number plate: "Eligible disciples, step forward and draw your lots."
As his words fell, Zhang Chen and Little Fatty stepped forward to draw lots, while Xiaodouding, with his two missing teeth, cheered spiritedly for Zhang Chen among the crowd.
When Zhang Chen arrived at the lottery box, he encountered Chu Mingyue, who flashed in front of Zhang Chen, blocking his way.
"What do you want?" Little Fatty Li Donglai, seeing the unfriendly approach, asked coldly.
"Don’t be nervous; I just have a few words to say to this junior brother." Chu Mingyue smiled gently and said to Zhang Chen, "Zhang Chen, right? I’ve heard the Crown Prince mention you; I’m aware of the grudge between you and the Crown Prince. You’d better pray not to encounter me on the stage; otherwise, I’ll cripple you to vent the Crown Prince’s anger."
"Cripple me?" Zhang Chen replied with a cold smile on his lips, "I hope you can deliver on your words."
Chu Mingyue sneered, "I’ve seen through your abilities. You’re nothing more than a common ant, yet you dare to speak to me like this. You’re truly ignorant of the vastness of the heavens and the earth, no wonder you dared to be disrespectful to the Crown Prince. But later, I will show you what cruelty is. I will make you understand the difference between a Martial Dao strongman and an ordinary being, making you see me as an ephemeral creature sees a mighty tree, as an ant sees the vast sky."
Having finished his harsh words, he ignored Zhang Chen, turned around, took a number plate, and left directly.
"This kid sure knows how to act tough. I can’t come up with words like that. Speaking of which, you’re pretty bold, daring to offend even the Crown Prince of Prince Pingbian’s Mansion, and most importantly, you’re still alive after offending him. What backing do you have?" Li Donglai asked curiously, winking at Zhang Chen.
Zhang Chen chuckled lightly at the words, "What? Thinking of worshipping me? Want me to protect you?"
"Keep dreaming!" Li Donglai sneered without hesitation, turning around to find his own opponent.
The martial arts arena of Yellow Heaven Dao was vast enough to accommodate thousands practicing martial arts, naturally not lacking spaces for the competition.
There was no need for platforms; the elders freely drew circles on the ground for the matches to commence.
Upon hearing the name call, Zhang Chen entered his designated circle, shortly thereafter, a thin young Daoist appeared, standing opposite Zhang Chen.
The elder stood outside the circle, announcing the competition rules: "First, leaving the circle results in a loss. Second, no fatal strikes permitted. Third, no rules!"
"Understood?" the elder asked.
Zhang Chen nodded, then slowly drew his long sword, facing the thin young Daoist, who unexpectedly pulled out seven iron rods from under his robe, swiftly connecting them into a three-meter-long rod, grinning wickedly at Zhang Chen, "Junior brother, are you ready?"
Seeing the three-meter rod, given the platform was only four meters, plus the range of assault space, it seemed that one sweep of the rod could knock Zhang Chen out.
You’re allowed weapons, but not ones that long, right?
However, the elder did not chastise, merely asked, "Ready to start whenever you are."
The young man chuckled, "Junior brother, today I’ll give you a lesson, one cannot be too naive; being too naive leads to suffering."
While speaking, the rod swooshed with force towards Zhang Chen in a horizontal sweep.
This guy had unleashed all his strength, with this strike estimated at hundreds of pounds of force. Should I be hit, the result would be broken tendons and bones. Unfortunately, this rod wouldn’t even reach me, Zhang Chen mused privately, shaking his head.
The path of the rod, even the muscle lines and tensions on the young man’s body, were crystal clear under Zhang Chen’s ultrasonic detection.
Confronted by such a fierce strike, Zhang Chen chose not to counter directly. Instead, he executed a roll towards the young man. By the time the young man wanted to change moves, it was already too late; Zhang Chen’s treasure sword gently hovered beneath the opponent’s groin.
The rod’s sound echoed near Zhang Chen’s ear, stopping ten centimeters away from his head. The young Daoist felt the chill under his groin, his entire body tingling, "Junior brother, stop! I yield!"
Technically, rod techniques should be a series of moves. But after Zhang Chen dodged the first strike, the following moves couldn’t be executed. Before the young man could hit Zhang Chen, Zhang Chen had already positioned his sword to cut off his manhood.
"Zhang Chen wins," the slow-paced elder announced the victory.
Before long, the second round of the competition began.
Martial artist competitions often determined victory or death within a few breaths, so the speed was fast. The only delay was due to rearranging and drawing new lots.
The second round had a hundred players remaining, Zhang Chen advancing smoothly.
Third round, fifty participants, Zhang Chen advanced smoothly.
Fourth round, twenty participants, Zhang Chen advanced.
When Zhang Chen fought, it usually took just one move to decide the outcome, determining life and death in one stroke.
Zhang Chen realized that with the aid of ultrasonics, he seemed to be using a cheat code. He fully grasped the direction of every opponent’s muscle movement, seeing through all their moves, making it impossible to match him.
Feints?
Non-existent!
They were directly defeated in front of Zhang Chen.
Even if cultivated to the level of Huajin, everyone’s physical attributes were similar. If you can’t hit Zhang Chen, it’s pointless. No matter what level of Martial Dao master you are, once your true and false moves are seen through, one attack will break your defense and leave you flustered.
In the blink of an eye, it was the competition for the top ten, with only twenty people remaining.
Zhang Chen won effortlessly again; his opponent was merely a Ming Jin cultivator, unable to withstand even one move before Zhang Chen.
At this point, Zhang Chen focused on Zhang Xiaohua, wrapped in a swirling Qi Mechanism, as if donned in a golden gauze dress. The dress was as thin as cicada’s wings, appearing transparent and illusory, yet impervious to blades or fire. No matter how opponents attacked with swords or spears, they were shattered by the dress.
Some disciples, fearing the prestige of the Prince’s Mansion, did not dare use weapons, facing off barehanded. As a result, their hands were shattered to bits, leaving them utterly crippled.
Seeing Zhang Xiaohua’s Divine Techniques, Zhang Chen had a concept in mind. Scanning the crowd again, he found Wu Ming’Er, who appeared strange, wearing a mask. His tall figure exposed none of his features, exuding mystery.
Curiosity piqued within Zhang Chen; he hadn’t expected such a peculiar person within the Yellow Heaven Dao.
"Today’s Martial Dao competition is concluded; rest well and prepare for tomorrow’s final match," announced Liu Feng, as Zhang Chen was deep in thought.
Given the significant exertion in Martial Dao, several consecutive rounds left everyone far from peak condition, necessitating time for rest.
After Liu Feng’s announcement, everyone dispersed separately. From afar, Chu Mingyue gave Zhang Chen one last neck-slashing gesture before coldly departing.
Zhang Xiaohua looked at Zhang Chen with surprise, eyes full of curiosity. As neighbors for years, Zhang Xiaohua thought he knew what Zhang Chen was capable of. How did he make it into the top ten? Were all these senior brothers just weaklings, allowing this guy to catch a break?
"This makes no sense! Zhang Chen may have some skills, but not much," Zhang Xiaohua muttered to himself, deciding to take his fellow townsman more seriously from now on.