Chapter Thirty: The Indifferent Youth

Round two of the Martial Gathering of the Clans, first match.

Liu Zhengqing of the Liu family faced Zhang Lin of the Zhang family.

This contest was highly anticipated by many. After all, in yesterday’s preliminary round, Liu Zhengqing had revealed very little of his true strength; Yang Yan had gleaned nothing of his real capabilities or hidden cards from that battle. As for Zhang Lin of the Zhang family, Yang Yan knew little about him, but was aware that Zhang Lin’s strength had reached the peak of the second level of the Sensation Realm. In terms of the sheer vigor of spiritual power within his body, he was not inferior to Yang Yan himself.

With a crisp chime from the bell, all eyes in the stands focused sharply on the two youths at the center of the arena.

Zhang Lin wore a solemn expression. He had witnessed firsthand yesterday how Zhang Fei, who was slightly weaker than himself, had been defeated by Liu Zhengqing in less than three moves. Zhang Fei’s strength was no mystery to him; even if Zhang Lin exerted himself fully, he would need at least thirty moves to best Zhang Fei, and that only if he went all out.

Understanding this, Zhang Lin abandoned any notion of probing Liu Zhengqing’s strength. Without further ado, his right hand swept across the pouch at his waist, and a pair of exquisite jade-green knuckle-dusters appeared in his palm.

These knuckle-dusters, known as Shadow Wing Slash, were famed for their speed. Worn on both fists, they significantly increased attack speed, leaving afterimages in their wake. They were crafted from the wing bones of a second-tier Beast King, the Emerald Winged Bat—equivalent to a first-level cultivator of the Connection Realm. In terms of quality, they were among the finest of low-tier spiritual artifacts, even superior to the Blue Scale Soft Armor Yang Yan had chosen previously.

Though the Zhang family’s Treasure Pavilion boasted nearly fifty spiritual artifacts, ninety-nine percent were low-tier; only one or two mid-tier artifacts could be counted, and these were bizarre, specialized weapons rarely suited to ordinary cultivators, so they remained mere decorations, locked away in the depths of the pavilion.

On the stage, Zhang Lin’s face was tense. He stepped forward with his left foot, body slightly bent, fists raised before his chest. The Shadow Wing Slash glimmered with jade light, poised to strike.

In contrast, Liu Zhengqing had remained unmoving since the start of the match, standing as straight as a spear, his eyes electric and devoid of any emotion.

The two faced each other, neither seeming willing to make the first move.

The spectators exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of their intentions. As time passed and the pair remained motionless, murmurs and complaints grew louder among the crowd.

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“What are these two doing—are they even planning to fight?”

“Exactly, dragging it out like this…”

In the end, it was Zhang Lin who could not endure the tension any longer. The clamor in the stands seemed unable to affect the calm youth before him, but Zhang Lin, beset by the crowd’s noisy speculation, felt as if he were sitting on needles. He realized that if he continued to face off with Liu Zhengqing without exchanging blows, he would already be at a disadvantage mentally. No longer hesitating, the jade light surged on the Shadow Wing Slash as he launched the first attack toward Liu Zhengqing.

Zhang Lin’s innate spiritual body was also of the wood attribute. The greatest advantage of wood spiritual power was its endless, enduring vitality. Zhang Lin had resolved that his only hope of victory lay in rapidly depleting Liu Zhengqing’s spiritual power with swift attacks. Once Liu Zhengqing’s reserves were exhausted, he would be as helpless as a lamb awaiting slaughter.

With a rush of wind, the jade-lit knuckle-dusters, trailing afterimages and a piercing whistling, pressed relentlessly toward Liu Zhengqing.

It was in moments like this that the power of spiritual artifacts became apparent. With spiritual energy infused, the Shadow Wing Slash punched with a force and speed twice that of Zhang Lin’s normal attacks; his deadly strikes were concealed beneath those emerald afterimages, almost impossible to discern without intense focus.

Faced with Zhang Lin’s storm-like assault, the unmoving Liu Zhengqing at last reacted.

He raised his right hand unhurriedly, seemingly at random, extending two fingers wrapped in golden light toward the flurry of jade afterimages and thrusting forward.

“Is he mad? He’s using his bare flesh to meet a spiritual artifact empowered by spiritual energy!”

“True, gold overcomes wood in the five elements, giving him a natural advantage, but unless his strength far surpasses his opponent’s, meeting an attack head-on like that is courting death!”

“He’s talented, but surely too young and reckless…”

Many spectators were startled and incredulous at Liu Zhengqing’s actions, shaking their heads in disbelief.

“Clang! Clang!”

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A sharp, metallic collision rang out from the arena, and everyone strained to see the outcome of this youthful, brazen challenge to a spiritual artifact.

When they finally saw, the entire crowd drew in a collective breath.

Liu Zhengqing’s fingers, cloaked in pale golden spiritual energy, were like blades capable of shattering gold and jade. In a flash, he thrust two fingers through the layers of afterimages, striking precisely at the inner side of Zhang Lin’s knuckle-dusters.

In that instant, Zhang Lin felt two tremendous forces pass through the knuckle-dusters into his fists. His palms felt as though struck by lightning; the impact forced his arms wide open, making him look as if he were about to embrace Liu Zhengqing.

Seeing Zhang Lin’s defenses laid bare, Liu Zhengqing’s youthful face remained expressionless, as if everything was proceeding exactly as he had anticipated. He shifted from fingers to palm and struck toward Zhang Lin’s chest.

In a split second, Zhang Lin had no time to react. Twisting desperately, he took Liu Zhengqing’s palm squarely on the left side of his chest.

A metallic clang rang out as palm met flesh, sounding as if it had struck some hard metal. A flicker of surprise crossed Liu Zhengqing’s eyes. Zhang Lin, having taken the blow head-on, was sent flying backward. He barely managed to stay upright, sliding five or six meters across the stone platform before coming to a stop.

At that moment, Zhang Lin felt a tidal wave of pain wash over his chest, his organs churning, his mind reeling. For an instant, when Liu Zhengqing’s palm struck, he felt his heart cease beating, only to resume a few seconds later.

The crowd erupted in astonishment, clearly shocked by Liu Zhengqing’s direct confrontation with the Shadow Wing Slash. Though not a perfect head-on clash, everyone knew that his powerful gold spiritual energy and acute perception of his opponent’s weaknesses put him far ahead of his peers. Such abilities were not innate; they could only be honed through real battles of life and death.

Everyone could not help but wonder—at such a young age, what had he experienced to become so formidable?