The rules of this entire world were governed half by the emperor on the Golden Palace and the other half divided, after much bickering, among three places: the Thatched Hut above Kunlun, the Heavenly Dragon Institute that stood atop the mountains with iron chains spanning the river, and the Daoist Sect, which was forever being challenged by experts from every direction.
The Thatched Hut was home to an old monster who had traveled the world yet found no one capable of defeating him, leaving him sunk in melancholy.
The Heavenly Dragon Institute housed a group of lunatics who "hated that Heaven had no handle and hated that Earth had no ring," chasing the limits of strength. Those whose fists could reach the divine emerged generation after generation.
As for the Daoist Sect, the dazzling array of experts who had once swaggered in to challenge it had long since turned to ashes. Yet the Daoist Sect remained the same Daoist Sect, clouds roiling like an ocean and pine needles evergreen. At most... another layer of fresh lacquer had been brushed onto those redwood pillars.
When the current dynasty had first been founded and weights and measures were standardized, the head of the Heavenly Dragon Institute and the Daoist Sect Master had been invited to preside. Since every school and lineage followed different traditions, all matters related to martial artists became impossible to settle. They argued until the sky and earth seemed ready to split—one shouting Mystic Comprehension, another shouting Core Formation.
The head of the Heavenly Dragon Institute, who in those days could count only to nine, had grown so furious that he smashed down the founding masters of every school and sect with his fists. After downing three jars of strong liquor, he had sat on the roof and cursed the founding emperor toward the capital for the length of a stick of incense. Then he had left after carving nine fist marks into Heavenly Mechanism Peak.
From that day onward, everything beneath Heaven was divided into Nine Ranks.
Because the lower three ranks had spread so widely, ordinary wandering martial artists considered a Seventh Rank weapon to be the pinnacle. Thus, even within those lower three ranks, they were further divided into upper, middle, and lower grades. Ninth Rank was the bottom, no more than commonplace, while Seventh Rank was the top and could rightfully be called a prized weapon of the martial world.
As for the hardness of an Eighth Rank tree, if one did not care whether a weapon was convenient to use, a carpenter with enough strength could plane out a fire poker and it would count as an Eighth Rank weapon.
After Xiahou Xuan finished explaining in a tone that mixed gentleness with schadenfreude, Wang Anfeng's face paled slightly. He felt a dull ache beginning to creep into his fingers.
With his Internal force sealed, he was supposed to smash a hundred Eighth Rank trees apart with his bare hands...
Thinking about it this way, carrying ten thousand jin of water was absolutely no simple task either.
Huangfu Xiong, feeling the same misery, patted Wang Anfeng on the shoulder and sighed.
"Brother, the road ahead is long and arduous..."
Xiahou Xuan opened his folding fan and chuckled. "Why not hold back a little? That way, you'll have some strength left to face the punishment afterward."
Wang Anfeng's eyes flickered faintly. He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, looked at the yellow paper, then turned his gaze back toward the arena.
Master, is this the trial you have given your disciple?
I'll show you that I can do it.
His lowered fists tightened gently. Wang Anfeng cupped his fists toward Xiahou Xuan and the others, then parted the crowd and strode toward the arena. The tall, sturdy youth atop it had already taken a pair of gauntlets, made of something resembling both gold and jade, from a tall, thin middle-aged man. He had fitted them over his fists, then swung both hands and struck out a thick wave of fist force, drawing a chorus of praise from below.
"Brother Zeng, your External martial arts are truly impressive!"
A rather gentle-looking young woman held her hands together, her eyes shining as she watched the youth above. Beside her, a young man of about twenty smiled and said, "The Wangxian Zeng Family has always passed down External martial arts and fist techniques. Although he has only just mastered thirty percent of this introductory External martial art, his body is already as tough as old pine bark. He has yet to learn the family's inherited fist techniques, but this Foundation Establishment fist technique is simple and dignified, with no small amount of power. Now that he has obtained that Eighth Rank pair of gauntlets..."
"He looks dull-witted, but his mind is sharp enough. After winning two battles in a row, he specifically chose a weapon. Since the Soaring Phoenix Finger Bindings aren't classified as a prized weapon, he can use them. It really looks like he'll win three straight."
As Wang Anfeng passed by them, the feverish anticipation of battle gradually faded from his expression. His heart was as clear as a mirror as he studied his opponent on the platform.
He was skilled in hard-body fist techniques, and now he had a newly acquired Eighth Rank weapon. He could not clash with him head-on.
Yet judging from the previous fight, he probably was not skilled at shifting and changing position.
And he knew very little about me. Then I'll use Brother Xue's Nine Palaces Step together with the force-generation techniques of the Vigorous Step Technique, disguising myself as a martial artist who relied on speed and movement. He will inevitably underestimate my fist power. Then I'll find a chance to use the momentum of the Vigorous Step Technique to launch a full-power attack and expose an opening!
The expression in Wang Anfeng's eyes grew increasingly calm. Only after interacting with Huangfu Xiong and the others had he realized how far his own strength still fell short.
Even though he had possessed roughly two hundred days of an ordinary person's cultivation time over the past hundred days, who among these people had not practiced martial arts since childhood?
He had to advance step by step, consolidating every gain.
He stepped onto the platform and cupped his fists in greeting with the tall, sturdy youth. The middle-aged man standing between the two sides of the arena as referee coughed and said, "Young Heroes, sharp weapons are forbidden this time. Aside from that, fight to your heart's content. The match ends when one party admits defeat or is knocked off the platform."
"In friendly combat, stop once the point is made. The two of you, please..."
With that, his body swayed and he landed beneath the platform like a fading afterimage. A trace of nervousness appeared uncontrollably in Wang Anfeng's eyes. Yet he had already fought others before, and he also carried the stubborn determination to prove himself to his master. Thus, he immediately launched a fierce attack, stamping forward with his right foot.
Internal force circulated through his body. Accompanied by a muffled boom, Wang Anfeng's figure exploded like an enraged tiger. His fists crossed as his body whipped up a gust of force and charged toward his opponent. Zeng Bo adopted a solemn expression and used defense in place of offense. Yet just as the two were about to collide, Wang Anfeng gritted his teeth and abruptly forced his footwork to change.
Heaven as Qian, Fire Heaven as Da You.
Sixth Palace—Qian.
Whoosh!
Zeng Bo's striking right hand touched only a sleeve that flowed like clouds. His vision blurred, and the man was already gone. Below, Xue Thirteen's eyes brightened slightly, and he let out a soft sound of surprise.
On the platform, Wang Anfeng had already slipped from Zeng Bo's blind spot to his back. His body surged forward, and his right fist crashed toward the back of Zeng Bo's neck. Zeng Bo stepped forward and spun around, unleashing a killing move with his fist. But Wang Anfeng had merely been setting a trap, waiting for that killing blow. Before his strength had fully emerged, his footsteps shifted, and Zeng Bo's fist once again merely grazed his robes.
The two passed each other like flowing water winding around a mountain. They had not truly exchanged blows, yet the exquisite details of the clash were far more captivating than the earlier fight, drawing a wave of cheers. The young man below merely laughed, turned his head, and began speaking to his friend. In his eyes, the match was already over.
Using Lightness Skill meant for charging across the battlefield to perform delicate combat footwork—this was clearly abusing his own body.
He was obviously a novice.
The two fighters separated as soon as they touched. Wang Anfeng remained as calm as ever and pulled back to a corner of the platform. Yet at that moment, the corners of Zeng Bo's mouth lifted slightly, startling Wang Anfeng.
The next instant, accompanied by an angry roar, the tall, sturdy youth suddenly accelerated. Like a frenzied blue ox charging at full speed, he caught up with Wang Anfeng in only a few steps. He stored up his strength and punched out fiercely, sending out a howling gale of fist force. His agility was worlds apart from before.
Wang Anfeng's pupils suddenly contracted.
I've fallen into his trap!
His father's helpless words after a burst of laughter seemed to echo in his ears once more: What you think is happening is only what you think is happening.
That was not the truth.
His opponent before him had erupted with even greater might, while behind him lay the edge of the platform. In the blink of an eye, he was trapped in a desperate situation. Yet a stubborn flame suddenly blazed in Wang Anfeng's eyes. He stopped his feet outright, pulled his left palm outward, and drove his right fist forward like a chisel. His spine surged, and all the power of the Vigorous Step Technique poured into that punch. He stared straight at his opponent and met offense with offense without retreating an inch!
All around them rang cheers for Zeng Bo's victory. Below, Xue Thirteen watched the youth who was nearly about to lose, yet a faint smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
"Huangfu, didn't you say he was a newborn tiger, sharpening his fangs and teeth, awaiting a bloodbath?"
"Now, the first prey has appeared."
Xiahou Xuan sneered. "But he's about to lose."
"Yes. Unless something unexpected happens."
Huangfu Xiong tipped back his neck and swallowed a mouthful of wine before looking at Xue Thirteen. "What counts as unexpected?"
Xue Thirteen watched the platform, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Anfeng's fist is hard, and it is heavy."
Above the platform, the two fists slammed into each other. The muscles on Zeng Bo's right arm still bulged like mountain rock, but his smile gradually twisted with pain.
The Soaring Phoenix Finger Bindings were Eighth Rank gauntlets, neither metal nor wood, crafted from wondrous jade.
Cracks were now spreading across the weapon. Fierce, unyielding force surged through it like a tiger restraining its claws and fangs, making his arm ache terribly. Veins unconsciously bulged on his forehead. The young man below sensed the sudden silence, turned his head, and his pupils abruptly contracted as his mouth fell open without conscious thought.
How was this possible?!
He had only spoken three sentences to his friend...
How could this...
Wang Anfeng's black hair hung slightly low, veiling his brows and eyes. He violently shook his wrist, and the Eighth Rank gauntlets exploded with a thunderous crack, shattering into scraps across the ground. Zeng Bo's right fist was revealed, already swollen with bruises. Below, Xue Thirteen laughed aloud in exhilaration. His eyes seemed to have glimpsed some wondrous existence worthy of immense anticipation, blooming into a scene as beautiful as Kunlun's glasslike world.
"So heavy that they ignored the level of Eighth Rank metal and jade."
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