As the two stepped into the arena, the surrounding chatter receded like the tide. Only the sound of the wind rustling through the locust tree in the courtyard corner remained, shaking loose a few dead leaves.
Chen Kai stood opposite him. He clenched his fists tight, his knuckles popping with a sharp CRACK. His breathing was heavy and rapid, his chest heaving like a bellows. He looked like an enraged beast desperately suppressing its murderous intent.
The Life and Death Contract meant a fight to the bitter end.
"Heart Intent Six Harmonies Fist, Chen Yuan."
Chen Yuan’s voice was flat, his face betraying no emotion. He settled into the Three-Body Stance—front hand shaped like an eagle’s catch, rear hand guarding his heart, weight distributed with three parts forward and seven parts back. He stood like an iron spike driven into the cyan bricks.
"Monument-Breaking Palm, Chen Kai."
His voice squeezed through his teeth, hoarse and low, carrying an unquestionable killing intent. Before the words fully faded, Chen Kai launched his attack.
He stomped his right foot and lunged forward like a mad tiger. There was no hesitation in this step, no probing, and no feints. He simply charged straight in. With the five fingers of his right hand pressed together and the heel of his palm protruding, veins bulged across his hand as Manifest Force surged through it. He chopped his palm directly at Chen Yuan’s face.
The Monument-Breaking Palm, as the name implied, was renowned for its fierce and unyielding Palm Force. Practiced to its depths, a single strike could shatter a cyan stone monument. Though Chen Kai had not yet reached the realm of monument shattering, he had achieved a fair degree of mastery. The palm wind tore through the air with a loud WHOOSH, crashing down like a solid iron plate.
This was the fighting style of gang warfare. There were no starting stances and no probing moves—just an immediate lethal strike. In life-or-death street brawls, whoever seized the initiative increased their chances of survival by seventy percent.
Chen Yuan’s gaze narrowed slightly. He half-stepped back with his left foot and angled his body. The palm wind brushed past the tip of his nose, stinging his skin. He did not counterattack; he simply evaded, wanting to see exactly what Chen Kai was relying on.
Missing his mark, Chen Kai did not retract his momentum. His left palm darted out from beneath his ribs, forming a Palm Blade that thrust straight for Chen Yuan’s kidneys. This thrust was incredibly vicious. The kidneys were a vital weak point; a solid hit would damage his internal energy and cripple him on the spot.
Chen Yuan pivoted on his right foot and sidestepped, narrowly dodging the blow.
Chen Kai unleashed a flurry of strikes, each palm faster and more ruthless than the last. He had no proper technique, or rather, his technique was pure chaos. The edges of his palms exclusively targeted the eyes, throat, heart, kidneys, and groin. Chops, slashes, thrusts, and slaps—every move aimed to maim or kill.
The Monument-Breaking Palm was inherently a righteous, overpowering discipline, but in his hands, it became sinister and tricky, reeking of the violent desperation of street brawls. This fighting style was forged in the bloody muck of death. It lacked the elegant transitions taught in a Martial Arts Hall, possessing only naked killing intent.
On the sidelines, Tao Ping crossed his arms. He frowned slightly and spat out four words in a flat tone. "Too much reckless courage."
He did not finish the thought. But Fang Minghai, standing beside him, understood the unspoken half—but not enough true strength.
Chen Kai’s offensive seemed ferocious. After a dozen strikes, he appeared to be suppressing Chen Yuan. However, a closer look revealed that Chen Yuan’s footwork remained flawless. Alternating between inch-steps and slide-steps, every movement landed precisely on the transitional gaps of Chen Kai’s palm techniques. He retreated, but he did so with unhurried grace. His eyes were calm as still water, consistently tracking Chen Kai’s shoulders and feet.
Chen Yuan felt a bit confused. He figured he had largely overestimated Chen Kai. The boy had never been particularly bright growing up, so he shouldn’t be measured by the standards of ordinary people.
On the other side of the arena, Huo Lin stood with his hands behind his back. His gaze fell on Chen Yuan, and he nodded slightly. "Steady."
Xu Heng stood beside his master, expressionless. He only glanced at Chen Kai twice before looking away, as if viewing something entirely unworthy of his attention.
"Chen Kai is guaranteed to lose."
In the arena, Chen Kai fought with increasing frenzy. He had unleashed nearly twenty consecutive moves, each an aggressive attempt to take a life. Chen Yuan kept retreating, which, in Chen Kai’s eyes, was pure cowardice. He believed his opponent was overwhelmed by his ferocity.
This feeling thrilled him.
Last time at the Kaisan Martial Arts Hall, Chen Yuan had sent him flying with a single Beng Fist. That humiliation had gnawed at him like a venomous snake for countless days and nights. Today, he would repay that humiliation with interest.
"Are you done hiding!"
Chen Kai let out an explosive roar. He stomped his right foot, leaping half a foot into the air as both palms shot forward—the ultimate killing move of the Monument-Breaking Palm, "Stone-Cleaving Double Slap."
His left palm struck at the crown of the head while his right targeted the heart. Both palms launched simultaneously, attacking high and low. This was the technique he practiced most. In a past alley fight, he had used it to shatter an opponent’s skull, killing the man instantly.
Chen Yuan did not block. Pushing off his right foot, he retreated instead of advancing, his body flashing backward to let both palms miss completely. Chen Kai landed, his palms striking nothing but air. The resulting wind kicked up a cloud of dust from the ground.
Chen Yuan’s expression changed. From a placid ancient well to a deep pool rippling with intent.
He had observed twenty moves. He had completely seen through Chen Kai’s fighting style. It was plenty ruthless, but severely lacked foundational depth. Every strike used full power, and the transitions between palms relied on brute force rather than proper footwork. His footwork was a mess. His feet had no roots, and his waist and hips failed to synchronize.
The Monument-Breaking Palm was originally a fierce and righteous external martial art that stressed "striking like a cleaving monument, stepping like taking root." When delivering a palm, the feet had to nail themselves to the ground, and the waist and hips had to synchronize the body’s power. Yet Chen Kai’s palm technique only possessed the form, not the spirit. He relied solely on a clumsily stacked Skin Refining foundation and the reckless courage accumulated from street brawls. Against a trained martial artist with a solid foundation, he was full of openings.
Was this it?
Chen Yuan moved.
He stepped forward half a pace with his left foot, buckling his knee inward, and twisted his entire body like a coiled dragon. Chen Kai had just retracted his palms and had not yet generated the next strike. In Chen Yuan’s eyes, those crude combo transitions were leaking air everywhere; any single flaw could be easily ripped apart.
Chen Yuan chose the exact moment his opponent withdrew his palms to catch his breath.
His right fist flipped out from his waist. There was no explosive inch-force characteristic of the Beng Fist, no popping of tendons and bones driven by Manifest Force. It was just a straight punch. Utilizing the framework of the Beng Fist and wrapped in the power of the Elephant Bone, his knuckles tore through the air with a muffled whistle.
Chen Kai’s pupils shrank. He instinctively crossed his palms and pressed down, trying to seal off the punch. But he was too slow. Before his palms were halfway down, Chen Yuan’s fist arrived. It wasn’t that his reactions were slow; it was that Chen Yuan’s punch was simply too fast. More importantly, Chen Yuan capitalized on the gap in his breathing, leaving him absolutely no time to defend.
THUD—CRACK!
A muffled thud mixed with the crisp sound of shattering bone exploded over the Martial Arts Arena. Chen Kai’s eyes bulged violently as his feet left the ground, sending him flying backward. In mid-air, he saw his own chest cave in. His sternum splintered, the fragments piercing his chest cavity. The agony was so intense he couldn’t even force out a scream.
His back crashed into the cyan brick floor, and he skidded over ten feet away. His robes tore, and the rough bricks scraped a bloody trail into his flesh. He opened his mouth and gagged, coughing up a massive mouthful of blood mixed with tiny frothy bubbles.
Dead silence fell over the arena.
Tao Ping lowered his gaze. His tone was calm, yet laced with an expected indifference.
"Chen Kai had too much reckless courage, but not enough strength.
"If those opening palm strikes had caught his opponent off guard, he might have had a sliver of a chance.
"Unfortunately... Junior Brother Chen was far too calm and experienced. He didn’t offer a single opening."
The disciples beside him exchanged glances. Recalling Chen Kai’s stormy offensive moments ago and comparing it to Chen Yuan’s effortless punch, a mutual thought popped into their minds.
He wasn’t being suppressed earlier. He was just toying with a monkey.
Chen Kai struggled to get up, his hands pressing against the ground. His nails dug into the crevices between the cyan bricks as his entire body convulsed. The searing pain from his chest made every drawn breath feel like swallowing knives. He raised his head and saw Chen Yuan walking toward him. That placid, emotionless face reflected in his bloodshot pupils, perfectly overlapping with a memory from that summer.
The Kaisan Martial Arts Hall.
It was the same person, the same punch. He had been sent flying by a Beng Fist, crashing heavily to the ground. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he had lain there suffocating, gasping like a fish tossed onto the shore. In the end, he was even told that the other party was "just warming up," causing him to pass out from sheer rage on the spot.
Why was it happening again?
Chen Kai’s mind buzzed, his heart turning to dead ashes. He thought that after months of scrapping and fighting for his life with real blades in the gangs, he had widened the gap between him and Chen Yuan. He thought that after achieving Great Success in Skin Refining, his strength was completely different from before. He thought he could win this life-and-death duel.
It was all a delusion.
But he forgot one thing.
This was a death match.
Chen Yuan’s footsteps did not stop. A dashing step—pushing off his rear foot, he shot to the kneeling Chen Kai like an arrow unleashed from a bowstring. Raising his right leg and pointing his toes straight, he unleashed a vicious low kick aimed directly at Chen Kai’s neck.
Chen Kai’s pupils violently contracted. Terror finally shredded all his arrogance and conceit. He wanted to beg for mercy, but the moment he opened his mouth, only a garbled, breathy sound managed to escape his throat. "Wait—"
CRACK.
Why would Chen Yuan give him the chance to yield?
The sound of his throat crushing was crisp and decisive. Chen Kai’s neck snapped backward at an unnatural angle. He toppled sideways onto the ground, his eyes wide and mouth still agape. A caved-in, purplish-blue footprint marred his throat, blood already seeping from its edges. He twitched twice, then ceased all movement.
The Martial Arts Arena remained silent for a long time.
Tao Ping stepped forward. He leaned down to check Chen Kai’s breathing and neck pulse. A moment later, he stood up and announced loudly.
"The winner is Chen Yuan."
No one cheered; no one applauded. The red handprints on the Life and Death Contract were still drying on the table, as bright as fresh blood.
Huo Lin stood with his hands behind his back. His gaze lingered on Chen Yuan for a moment before he spoke mildly.
"Observe first, strike later. He sees accurately and strikes decisively. Heng, you were right. Chen Kai was guaranteed to lose."
Xu Heng said nothing. He simply watched Chen Yuan’s retreating back as he returned to the sidelines, the corners of his mouth curling into an imperceptible smirk.