"Heart Intent Six Harmonies Fist, Chen Yuan."
"Thunderbolt Fast Legs, Ge Jinhua."
As his words faded, Ge Jinhua did not attack immediately.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sweeping back and forth twice over Chen Yuan’s Three-Body stance. He shifted a half-step forward, then another, as if examining an irregularly shaped piece of porcelain.
Among the spectating Fang Family disciples, someone couldn’t help but sneer. The old geezer had been loud when shouting his challenge, but now that it was time to fight, he was dawdling.
Chen Yuan, however, did not laugh. His Three-Body stance remained completely motionless, his eyes locked onto the hollow of Ge Jinhua’s shoulder. If the shoulders moved, the legs would follow; this was common sense in combat. Yet Ge Jinhua’s shoulders remained still. He was waiting for Chen Yuan to make the first move and expose a flaw. Unfortunately, he waited for a full five breaths, but the young man opposite him stood like cast iron. With his lead hand poised to strike the throat in an eagle grip and his rear hand guarding his heart, his knees were slightly bent, and his center of gravity was perfectly stable. Even the rise and fall of his breathing was suppressed to the absolute minimum.
Ge Jinhua finally stopped waiting. His right foot suddenly snapped up. With a straightened instep, his toes pierced toward the back of Chen Yuan’s lead knee like a short spear. This kick was launched with extreme speed and stealth. With almost zero telegraphing from his upper body, his foot hovered barely a foot off the ground, yet it carried a sharp, whistling gust of wind. This was the Point Kick of the Thunderbolt Fast Legs, designed specifically to break stances.
Chen Yuan raised his right knee slightly, using the knee-lift block of the Chicken Form: Golden Rooster Stands on One Leg. As the toes collided with the knee bone, a crisp SMACK rang out.
Without retracting his first leg, Ge Jinhua used the momentum to spin upward on his left foot. Twisting a half-circle in midair, he slammed his right heel toward the side of Chen Yuan’s neck like an iron hammer. This was the second move of the Thunderbolt Fast Legs: Tornado Swing. Continuous Legs. The first kick was a thrust, the second a smash, and a third remained hidden in reserve.
Chen Yuan did not retreat. He raised his left arm, using the wrapping force of the Cross Fist to diagonally Yin the strike. The heel scraped past his forearm, its force completely Unloaded to the side.
Ge Jinhua’s third kick arrived just as expected. The moment his right foot touched the ground, his left foot swept across the dirt straight for the ankle of Chen Yuan’s supporting leg. A ground sweep.
Chen Yuan lifted his right foot a mere half-inch and stomped back down, planting his sole directly onto Ge Jinhua’s sweeping ankle. SMACK. With a soft sound, their feet rebounded simultaneously.
Ge Jinhua used the rebounding force to retreat two steps, a dull numbness spreading through his right ankle. He glanced down at it, then looked back up at Chen Yuan. His opponent was still holding that same Three-Body stance, remaining as steady as a driven nail.
His heart sank slightly. That three-kick combo of Continuous Legs was his signature move. The first kick aimed at the knee to break the stance, the second swing forced the opponent to lean back, and the third ground sweep was meant to snap the ankle while their center of gravity was unstable. Even if an ordinary Bone-refining Martial Artist managed to block the first two kicks, they would most likely suffer a hidden loss on the third.
Yet this Chen Yuan had not only blocked it but had actively stomped on his foot in return. What tough bones. He remembered how He Yunhan had died—the wrists that couldn’t be locked, the shinbones that couldn’t be broken.
Ge Jinhua stopped meeting force with force. He began to circle Chen Yuan. He didn’t advance or retreat in straight lines; instead, he moved in arcs, cutting diagonally, abruptly changing directions from left to right. His footwork was fast and choppy, leaving a messy ring of footprints in the dirt. Occasionally, he would launch a kick, but he didn’t aim for a decisive blow. He attacked and retreated instantly, withdrawing upon contact. If Chen Yuan tried to counterattack, his leg would already be pulled back; if Chen Yuan remained still, his next kick would strike from an entirely different angle. It was a seasoned strategy. This was the fighting style of a true veteran. Knowing he couldn’t gain an advantage in raw strength, he used his experience and footwork to stall, patiently waiting for his opponent to expose a flaw first.
Chen Yuan’s response was simple. Since his opponent avoided direct clashes, he didn’t chase. As Ge Jinhua circled, he pivoted. His Three-Body steps ground out semicircular arcs in the dirt, ensuring he always faced his opponent head-on. Whenever Ge Jinhua kicked, he would block with his forearms, parry with his knees, or stomp with his soles. They were all small, short defensive movements that didn’t consume stamina or seek to counterattack. He merely caught every single kick with unwavering stability.
On the sidelines, Fang Minghai watched for a moment before suddenly whispering to Fang Zhengqing, "Junior Brother Chen is using him for practice."
Fang Zhengqing nodded slightly. He could see it too. Chen Yuan had only recently comprehended Hidden Force; it was not yet fully refined. Right now, every punch and block he threw contained restrained power. He wasn’t in a hurry to counterattack, but every single movement was grounded in the foundation of Hidden Force. He wasn’t fighting an opponent; he was practicing his martial arts. He was treating Ge Jinhua like a moving whetstone.
Ge Jinhua gradually realized something was wrong as well. He had circled Chen Yuan and thrown nearly fifty kicks. Chen Yuan had blocked every single one without missing a beat, yet he hadn’t initiated a single pursuit. Ge Jinhua deliberately showed two openings—once swaying his upper body while kicking, and once intentionally landing a half-beat too late. But Chen Yuan merely watched him quietly, as if he hadn’t noticed at all, or perhaps he had noticed but simply didn’t care. Those eyes were far too calm, so tranquil that it made Ge Jinhua’s skin crawl. This kid wasn’t fighting a duel; he was cultivating. And he, Ge Jinhua, was nothing more than a sparring partner.
Fifty moves passed.
Ge Jinhua’s breathing began to grow heavy, and the muscles in his calves ached faintly. Thunderbolt Fast Legs specialized in speed and explosive power. Every kick required engaging all the muscles and bones in the entire leg, draining far more stamina than it appeared. After all, his Stage had fallen from the Muscle-refining realm. With his advancing age, his vitality was steadily declining, and he carried multiple hidden injuries. His physical stamina was a shadow of its former self. He simply wasn’t suited for a battle of attrition, nor had he ever expected before the fight that a young man like Chen Yuan could out-endure an old geezer like him.
Where had the sharp aggressiveness of youth gone?
Chen Yuan’s breathing remained steady and long, his Three-Body stance never wavering even a fraction.
Another twenty moves passed.
Ge Jinhua’s kicking speed had visibly slowed. He threw the same Tornado Swing that had generated fierce winds earlier, but now it felt as if his leg was wrapped in wet mud. Even the whistling sound of his kicks had dulled. He gritted his teeth, knowing that if he dragged this out any longer, defeat was certain. This was his last chance to win.
His right leg suddenly shot out like a spring. With a straightened instep, his toes drove straight for Chen Yuan’s lower abdomen like iron awls. This kick unleashed all his remaining strength, moving so fast it left only an afterimage on the retinas of the spectators.
Chen Yuan sank his elbow and smashed downward, deflecting the kick with a loud THUD.
But this kick was merely Ge Jinhua’s opening move. Using the rebounding force, he spun upward, his left leg tracing a semicircular arc in the air. His heel cleaved downward toward the top of Chen Yuan’s head like a massive axe. It was the killing move of the Thunderbolt Fast Legs: Axe Stomp.
Chen Yuan did not retreat.
He had waited seventy moves for this exact moment. He stepped forward a half-pace with his left foot, advancing instead of retreating, and crashed straight into the inner circle of Ge Jinhua’s descending leg. The power of the Axe Stomp lay in the heel, not the bend of the knee. The closer one stuck to the opponent, the weaker the kick became. Chen Yuan’s timing in closing the distance was accurate to the millimeter. Ge Jinhua’s heel scraped past his back and crashed into the ground with a resounding BOOM, shattering the green bricks and sending gravel flying.
The corner of Chen Yuan’s robes was whipped up by the fierce wind, but he remained completely unharmed. Meanwhile, his right fist was already pressed flush against Ge Jinhua’s chest.
Beng Fist.
This punch held nothing back. The entry-level Hidden Force was unleashed to its maximum capacity. Energy surged through his entire body as his Elephant Bones let out a silent, metallic hum. The instant his knuckles touched Ge Jinhua’s chest, the Hidden Force penetrated through in overlapping, tidal waves.
THUD!
Ge Jinhua’s chest caved in upon impact.
He opened his mouth wide but couldn’t make a sound. The breath was lodged in his throat by the force of the punch, unable to go up or down. His entire body was sent flying backward, slamming heavily into the ground and skidding more than ten feet before coming to a stop. He struggled to prop up his upper body. COUGH! He spewed out a massive mouthful of blood mixed with fine froth. At least four of his ribs were broken, the bone shards piercing his lungs. With every breath he took, it felt as if knives were churning inside his chest cavity.
"Stop—"
The explosive shout had barely left He Tianxiong’s lips when Fang Zhengde intercepted him. Smiling amiably, he looked at him.
"Brother He, the younger generation relies on their own skills in a duel. At your age, you shouldn’t always be thinking about interfering."
He Tianxiong’s pupils contracted.
Fang Zhengde’s smile was polite, but his feet were firmly planted. His body brimmed with restrained Qi Force, like a fully drawn bow. If he attacked, Fang Zhengde would definitely block him; even if he could break past Fang Zhengde, it would be too late. He hadn’t managed to break through last time, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to this time.
Seeing He Tianxiong get intercepted, the last shred of hope in Ge Jinhua’s eyes thoroughly extinguished.
He wanted to surrender. As long as he uttered those two words, "I surrender," this duel would end, and his life would be spared.
He opened his mouth, but the blood welling up in his throat choked his vocal cords. His voice was so hoarse it couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. "I... surr..."
Chen Yuan’s right hand had already arrived.
Dragon Form: Dragon’s Claw. His five fingers loosely curled like hooks, the knuckles gleaming with the cold, white luster of refined Elephant Bones. This claw clamped directly onto Ge Jinhua’s Adam’s apple, crushing his remaining words along with his throat bones into powder.
Ge Jinhua’s eyes widened into perfect circles.
He wanted to surrender. He had already said it, so why did the attack still follow? His hand remained raised in midair, fingers splayed open in a spasm as if trying to grab something, or perhaps asking why. Then, his entire body stiffened. His raised hand slowly dropped, thudding into the broken bricks and dirt.
The arena remained dead silent for a long time. Wind funneled in through the gap in Wankou Mountain, sweeping up several withered leaves that spun near everyone’s feet before settling back down.
The members of the Fang Family erupted into earth-shattering cheers. Lv Mingyuan raised his arms and shouted loudly, Fang Minghai fiercely pumped his fist, and Fang Zhengde stroked his beard while laughing uproariously.
Meanwhile, the He Family side was steeped in deathly silence.
He Tianxiong stood rooted to the spot, his face incomparably gloomy. He looked like a stone statue; only the hands hidden within his sleeves were trembling slightly. An hour ago, the He Family had still possessed a once-in-a-century genius, held the initiative over the mine, and enjoyed the absolute upper hand. Now, He Yunhan’s corpse wasn’t even cold yet, and Ge Jinhua’s corpse was lying in the exact same patch of dirt. He had claimed he would make the Fang Family prepare another funeral, but in the blink of an eye, it was his He Family that had to prepare two!
Chen Yuan retracted his hand and wiped the blood off his fingertips on Ge Jinhua’s lapel. He then walked over and bent down to pick up the cloth sack he had left on the ground earlier, which contained three hundred taels of silver. He weighed it in his hand, then turned and walked toward the Fang Family camp.
Fang Minghai was the first to greet him, giving him a fierce hug without saying a single word.
Chen Yuan patted his back and smiled. "Senior Brother Fang, I did not fail my mission."
Fang Zhengde strode over and spoke clearly in front of everyone, "Chen Xiaoyou, my Fang Family will engrave today’s matters into our hearts." He paused, then added, "From now on, whatever is within our Fang Family’s power, you need only ask."
Chen Yuan cupped his hands in a martial salute, skipping any polite pleasantries.
He knew that what the Fang Family could provide went far beyond these three hundred taels of silver.
His cultivation of the Dragon Tendons was finally secured.