A Startling Revelation

The training ground of the martial arts school was dead silent.

Aside from Li Sancheng and the other two, everyone else had assumed Han Zheng would be utterly crushed by Guo Mingyuan's advantage in realm and strength.

No one expected that the one being crushed would actually be Guo Mingyuan, who held the strength advantage!

In truth, Han Zheng had held back.

He didn't want to reveal too much of the Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill, so he hadn't displayed his power so blatantly.

Otherwise, with the might of the Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill, Guo Mingyuan—who only trained the Iron Elephant Skill—would be useless even if he had three more meridians opened, let alone just one.

Li Jingzhong's gaze toward Han Zheng grew more and more delighted.

Han Zheng's control over the Vajra Fist had even reached the point where it moved as naturally as an extension of his arm; his strength followed his intent, truly grasping the essence of the Vajra Fist.

Li Jingzhong himself had taken nearly a year to reach the perfected realm of the Vajra Fist back in the day.

At the same age, Han Zheng's mastery of the Vajra Fist was even faster than his own.

Guo Mingyuan scrambled up from the ground, his face full of disbelief.

He had been defeated by Han Zheng?

Impossible! Absolutely impossible!

Guo Mingyuan rose, his blood and qi surging, and with a low shout, he charged at Han Zheng.

But this time, he wasn't using the Vajra Fist.

The veins on Guo Mingyuan's hands bulged wildly, somewhat resembling the Shattered Jade Hand of Gao Kaiyuan from the Three Harmonies Gang.

His hands were like eagle claws, reaching straight for Han Zheng's throat, eyes, groin, and other vital spots—his moves were vicious beyond measure.

Li Jingzhong frowned slightly, recognizing Guo Mingyuan's martial art.

This was the Eagle Claw Skill of Qiu Tianying, the chief of the Sky Eagle Gang.

However, the Eagle Claw Skill itself was merely a Houtian grappling technique; it had to be paired with Qiu Tianying's other martial art, the Black Demon Hand, to unleash the effect of a Xiantian Martial Skill.

The Guo family was wealthy, so it was normal for Guo Mingyuan to learn the Eagle Claw Skill from Qiu Tianying.

But the Black Demon Hand was Qiu Tianying's true trump card—he would never teach it to anyone outside his own son.

"Courting death!"

Han Zheng shook his head slightly.

The Eagle Claw Skill might be a bit stronger than the Vajra Fist, but if you haven't even mastered the Vajra Fist and go off to train the Eagle Claw Skill, you're just wasting time.

Han Zheng spread his Vajra Fist stance, his arms surging with blood and qi like a great vajra pestle—smashing, chopping, slashing, bursting—heavy and forceful, fierce and unmatched!

Every single move and posture was a frame of the Vajra Fist, utterly familiar to every martial artist present.

But when Han Zheng used them, they somehow felt different, as if he were truly a Vajra Wrathful Glare demon-subduing warrior monk, each fist and stance carrying the martial essence of the Vajra Fist.

Guo Mingyuan's Eagle Claw Skill was fast, but Han Zheng's Vajra Fist seemed plain and clumsy.

Yet every punch precisely suppressed Guo Mingyuan, making his so-called Eagle Claw Skill look as ridiculous as a hen flapping and clawing to protect its food.

After a full set of stances, Guo Mingyuan was sent flying, his hands bloodied and mangled by Han Zheng's overwhelming force, a miserable sight.

"This round, Han Zheng wins!"

After announcing the result, Li Jingzhong quickly had the school's servants send Guo Mingyuan to the Shenghe Hall for treatment.

The Guo family was now the richest in the county seat; he couldn't let Guo Mingyuan end up with an incurable injury.

Li Jingzhong turned to Han Zheng and nodded in praise: "Not bad. You've fully grasped the essence of the Vajra Fist. There's nothing more I can teach you in this art.

Even within the Vajra Prajna Temple, your Vajra Fist would not lose to those already tonsured disciples."

"It's all thanks to the master's teaching."

Han Zheng humbly replied and returned to the crowd of disciples.

Everyone else stared at Han Zheng with an extremely strange look.

Thanks to the master's teaching?

They all learned the Vajra Fist together, all taught by the same person—why were you so outstanding?

Li Sancheng was still proudly whispering nearby, saying he hadn't been bragging, that his brother was really that impressive.

The other disciples couldn't be bothered with him, but they had to admit Han Zheng had indeed made a stunning debut.

Orphaned, from a commoner background, relying only on the most basic Vajra Fist, he had defeated Guo Mingyuan, who soaked in medicinal baths daily and secretly learned the Eagle Claw Skill on the side.

If Guo Mingyuan had won this round, they certainly wouldn't have accepted it. But since Han Zheng won, they were convinced.

The next round was Chen Zhao versus Song Tianqing.

The disciples looked forward to it, hoping for another upset—a commoner defeating a noble disciple once more.

Unfortunately, there was no reversal this time.

Song Tianqing's cultivation foundation was solid, and he likely had various external aids, giving him far superior physical strength to Chen Zhao.

Moreover, in the Martial Skill of the Vajra Fist, Song Tianqing's comprehension, while not yet perfected, had reached nearly ninety percent in Han Zheng's estimation.

Chen Zhao was a true representative of the common-born disciples—no external help at all, relying solely on his own talent and perseverance to cultivate to this level.

During the match, though he made no mistakes, he was completely crushed by Song Tianqing from start to finish, and was finally sent flying with a mouthful of blood by a single punch from Song Tianqing.

Seeing Chen Zhao struggling to get up, spitting blood as he tried to rise, Song Tianqing sneered and stepped forward.

Li Jingzhong quickly said, "This round goes to Song Tianqing!"

Hearing Li Jingzhong's announcement, Song Tianqing stopped in his tracks.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Everyone go back and rest for a day. We'll continue the competition tomorrow."

Some disciples who were close to Chen Zhao helped him up and took him to the infirmary. The other disciples didn't look too kindly at Song Tianqing either.

Song Tianqing had been far too ruthless.

Against an enemy, that would be one thing. But they were all disciples of the same martial arts school—fellow students. Even if there was competition, did he have to go for the kill?

They had all seen it clearly: if Li Jingzhong hadn't declared him the winner, Song Tianqing would have charged in to finish the job and cripple Chen Zhao for good.

Li Sancheng cheerfully pulled Han Zheng along. "Come on, come on! To celebrate you beating that Guo Mingyuan, let's all get a good meal."

Behind them followed Zhao Jinming, Wang Bao, and a few other disciples from the school who were close to them.

Han Zheng didn't really want to go. He'd rather spend the time training.

But Li Sancheng and the others were too enthusiastic, so Han Zheng had no choice but to let them drag him to the same small tavern Li Sancheng had taken him to before.

"Brother Han, beating Guo Mingyuan this time really let us vent some frustration."

Zhao Jinming raised his cup, a bit emotional as he toasted Han Zheng, and downed it in one gulp.

Han Zheng drank one too. The wine was a bit cloudy, low in alcohol, and tasted sour and astringent—not very good.

"Guo Mingyuan's family grain shop makes a ton of silver, and he's always so high-profile. That does make people resent him.

But seeing him lose, you guys don't just seem relieved—you seem pretty excited too."

Han Zheng felt their attitude was a bit strange, as if Guo Mingyuan had some deep grudge against them.

Zhao Jinming smiled bitterly. "It's not really excitement. To be honest, we've just been feeling stifled.

Master Li teaches seriously and rigorously. He accepts disciples based on talent and strength, not family background. If a disciple doesn't pass the assessment, even if they have connections, they get kicked out.

So in all of Black Stone County, the Zhenwei Martial Arts School is the only place where common-born martial artists like us can make a name for ourselves.

Back when the school wasn't famous, those rich and well-connected disciples from big families wouldn't come to learn here.

Now that the school has a reputation, it naturally attracts those wealthy and powerful disciples.

But the master only teaches the White Ape Through-Arm Fist to one person per batch. Those rich and powerful disciples are born with more resources than us.

They have medicinal baths, and they can learn other Martial Skills on the side with extra tutoring. What do we have to compete with that?

Originally, there was only one slot per batch, and it always got taken by those rich disciples. Of course we feel stifled!

This time, Brother Han, you beating Guo Mingyuan—it's like we common-born disciples finally got to breathe.

So what if they have money and power? They're still useless!"

Zhao Jinming got more and more worked up, and the others chimed in agreement.

Han Zheng nodded thoughtfully and clinked glasses with them.

In both his past life and this world, there had never been absolute fairness.

In fact, people like the young master Zhou were the norm. Their families had been in politics for three generations. What right did some dirt-poor nobody have to talk about fairness with them?

What Zhao Jinming and the others were frustrated and angry about wasn't that Guo Mingyuan had medicinal baths to aid his cultivation or could spend money to learn other Martial Skills on the side.

It was that he already had so much money and so many opportunities, yet he still came to snatch away the pitiful little chance they had.

In previous batches of Zhenwei Martial Arts School disciples, only a few common-born martial artists had been taught the White Ape Through-Arm Fist back when the school wasn't well-known.

Later, as rich and powerful disciples joined, the first-place slot was almost always taken by them.

Only in this batch did two anomalies appear—Han Zheng and Chen Zhao—finally giving the common-born martial artists something to cheer about.

But unfortunately, Chen Zhao had lost to Song Tianqing. Only Han Zheng remained as their last hope.

"Brother Han, be careful tomorrow. Don't hold back at all.

That bastard Song Tianqing is vicious and underhanded. If you hold back, he won't."

After eating and drinking their fill, one of the disciples sincerely warned Han Zheng.

He had fought Song Tianqing before and knew just how ruthless the guy could be.

After parting ways with the group, Han Zheng headed straight home.

But just as he passed through a small alley, he suddenly stopped and frowned.

"Who's there? Come out!"

From the shadows of the alley, an old man in a long robe, with white hair combed immaculately, slowly shuffled out.

Han Zheng thought it might be the Three Harmonies Gang sniffing around again, but it turned out to be an old man with no martial skill at all.

And Han Zheng felt he looked familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere before.

Thinking back carefully, Han Zheng finally remembered—the other party seemed to be an old steward under Song Tianqing.

Back when Song Tianqing was being ostracized by the entire Song Family, it was with this same powerless old steward that he turned a failing shop around into profit.

During the large-group lessons at the martial hall, this old steward had also personally come to deliver meals to Song Tianqing.

"This old man is named Zheng Zhishan. You should have seen me before. I've come today to discuss a deal with you."

Zheng Zhishan stood with his hands behind his back, pulling out a banknote and fixing his gaze on Han Zheng. "Tomorrow is your match with my young master. If you willingly forfeit, this thousand taels of silver will be yours!"