"Isn't that the First Elder's disciple, Lin Feng?"
"The one with the six-star talent?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Lin Feng stepped calmly into the arena, his white robe fluttering slightly under the breeze of spiritual energy that surrounded the fighting hall.
A tall youth walked out from the crowd, his aura sharp and steady.
"I challenge you!" he declared.
"That's Ouyang Yun," someone whispered. "Ranked twelfth among the outer court. An eighth-grade Mortal Realm expert!"
The elder overseeing the hall raised his hand. "Begin."
Ouyang Yun sneered. "You think you're special just because you're the First Elder's disciple? Don't get arrogant."
"That's none of your business," Lin Feng said flatly.
Then he vanished.
Ouyang Yun's eyes widened — Lin Feng's movement was so fast that he barely registered the blur before a fist appeared before his chest. Startled, he hastily gathered inner qi to form a defensive barrier.
Bang!
The qi shield shattered like glass, and Ouyang Yun was launched off the stage, crashing into the ground several meters away. Dust rose from the impact.
"So weak," Lin Feng said, lowering his fist.
"Oh my god! Boss is too powerful!" Wang Jun (the fatty) shouted from the crowd, eyes glowing with admiration.
"Ouyang Yun was defeated with one punch!"
"Impossible!"
Ouyang Yun groaned, clutching his stomach. "Y-you… I'll tell my senior brother to deal with you!"
Lin Feng didn't even glance at him. "Next," he said coldly.
---
"Next!"
"Next!"
"Next!"
Each time, Lin Feng defeated his challenger in a single exchange. Punches, palm strikes, simple qi bursts — clean, efficient, and devastating. Within an hour, five of the top ten outer court disciples lay sprawled outside the arena, coughing blood or groaning in disbelief.
"Oh my god! Lin Feng has already defeated five of the top ten!" someone shouted.
In a Courtyard Nearby
A disciple knelt before a young man meditating under a willow tree. "Senior Brother Ouyang Ye, someone injured your junior brother and is challenging the top ten. He has already defeated five and even offered two thousand points to anyone who can defeat him."
Ouyang Ye slowly opened his eyes, a calm fury in his gaze. "You may leave."
As the disciple hurried away, Ouyang Ye stood, the air around him trembling. "How dare he injure my junior brother… but two thousand points? I'll take them for myself."
His aura exploded outward — a wave of qi heavy and suffocating.
"The aura of a Grade Two Xiantian expert!"
He strode toward the arena.
"That's the third on the outer court ranking!"
"He's finally here!"
The elder gave a brief nod. "Begin!"
Lin Feng didn't hesitate. He surged forward, channeling inner qi into his palm.
"Cloud Palm — Splitting the Sky!"
He snorted. "Collapsing Palm!"
Their palms met with a deafening boom!
The arena floor cracked beneath them. Qi waves rippled outward, sending weaker disciples staggering backward.
His face changed — Lin Feng's technique carried an ancient depth, refined and balanced. He had cultivated his Cloud Palm to near perfection.
He took seven steps back before stabilizing himself. Lin Feng only retreated three.
"He's really a genius," Lin Feng murmured softly. "He sensed the strength behind my strike."
He lowered his hand, eyes filled with calculation. Then, surprisingly, he bowed slightly. "I surrender."
Lin Feng blinked. "You're giving up?"
"I know when I'm outmatched," he said simply. "Be wary of the top two."
Lin Feng nodded, watching him leave. Interesting.
"Boss, we've earned three thousand points!" Fatty said excitedly, jumping up and down.
Across the sect, news spread like wildfire.
Within the outer court pavilion
"Who is this Lin Feng, climbing from the bottom all the way to third?" said an elder, staring at the ranking tablet in disbelief.
"He's challenged almost everyone in the top ten!" another disciple exclaimed.
Crowds began gathering around the Fighting Hall. Even the envoy who brought Lin Feng to the sect was smiling from ear to ear. "The more talent and potential he shows, the greater my reward."
At the arena, Lin Feng stood tall, his calm eyes scanning the growing audience.
"Next!" he called out.
"Ten consecutive wins! Only the top two outer court disciples remain!" the elder announced.
Lin Feng exhaled slowly, his qi circulating evenly. Still not enough. I need stronger opponents
"Jiang Chen is here!"
"He's the number two outer court disciple!"
"Lin Feng's winning streak ends now!"
A tall, lean youth walked forward, his saber gleaming faintly with a sharp edge of intent. His aura was heavy — stable and powerful, every breath controlled.
"Lin Feng," he said calmly.
"Jiang Chen," Lin Feng replied.
"Begin," the elder commanded.
Jiang Chen vanished. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Lin Feng, his fist already crashing forward toward Lin Feng's chest.
Bang!
Lin Feng's body shot backward, sliding across the arena floor. He stomped his right foot hard, shattering the ground beneath to halt his movement just before crossing the arena's boundary.
"Boss!" Wang Jun cried out.
Lin Feng coughed once, straightened, and smirked. "He's fast… but not enough."
Jiang Chen's expression darkened. "He's uninjured?"
Using the momentum, Lin Feng surged forward, qi surging down his arm.
"Dragon Fist!"
A faint dragon phantom roared behind him as his fist shot forward.
Jiang Chen twisted his body midair, saber flashing in a perfect horizontal arc.
"Cleave Saber Art — First Stance!"
Boom!
Fist and saber collided, sending a shockwave through the arena. Dust swirled. Both men were thrown backward.
Lin Feng landed heavily, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His body trembled slightly. This is… Saber Intent!
A sharp, cutting energy gnawed at his meridians, disrupting his inner qi flow. Pain radiated through his chest.
Across from him, Jiang Chen spat blood, eyes burning with fighting spirit. "You're strong… but I won't lose."
Lin Feng drew his sword in one fluid motion. The blade hummed faintly.
"Azure Sword Art — Kill Any Under Heaven!"
A streak of blue light tore through the air toward Jiang Chen.
"Hmph!" Jiang Chen growled, channeling everything he had.
"Cleave Saber Art — Second Stance!"
Their weapons clashed again, and another explosion rocked the stage. Spiritual energy rippled outward, breaking the qi barriers around the arena. The crowd stumbled backward, shielding their eyes.
As the dust cleared, both men stood bleeding and battered. Lin Feng's breathing was heavy; Jiang Chen's armor was cracked and glowing faintly.
Lin Feng frowned. "No wonder my sword couldn't pierce you… you're wearing armor."
Jiang Chen wiped his mouth, staring at the cracked plates. "If not for this armor, your sword would've split me in half. You're ruthless, Lin Feng. But now… I'll use my trump card."
A deep rumble shook the air as his qi flared violently. His aura climbed higher — breaking past his previous limit.
"He's… he's a Half-Step Xiantian Realm expert!" gasped a disciple.
Lin Feng's expression sharpened, blood dripping down his chin. "So that's your true strength…"
Wang Jun shouted from the sidelines, "Boss! Be careful!"
The spectators murmured in awe. "If Jiang Chen's really a Half-Step Xiantian, Lin Feng might be finished!"
In the distance, Ouyang Ye watched silently, eyes narrowing. "So that was your trump card, Jiang Chen? Even with that, you couldn't beat me before."
On the stage, Jiang Chen smirked confidently. "Now that you know, surrender while you can."
Lin Feng's grip tightened on his sword. "Hmph."
He took a deep breath — then dashed forward. Qi surged through his veins, condensing around his blade.
The sword gleamed white-hot, humming with lethal intent.
"Azure Sword Art — Kill Any Under Heaven!"