A New Opponent

The food and medicinal baths in the Class A Room were like the finest firewood, stoking the furnace inside Li Yuan's body until it roared. He could feel his blood surging beneath his skin, louder with every passing day. His strength seemed inexhaustible, and his whole body thrummed with energy.

But the comfortable days didn't last long before trouble came knocking.

The people in the Class A Room were nothing like the bunch of loudmouthed fools in the Class C Room. When they looked at Li Yuan, their eyes seemed to have hooks in them—silent, yet sharp enough to wound.

One afternoon, Li Yuan had just finished a set with the stone locks in his own courtyard. Heat rose from his body, and he was about to head inside to wipe his face when the courtyard gate creaked open from the outside. No one had knocked.

Three people came in. The one leading them was a tall man named Zhou Meng, one of the hall master's personal disciples and a well-known figure in the Class A Room. He folded his arms and lifted his chin slightly, looking Li Yuan up and down as if inspecting a newly stocked weapon. His gaze was appraising, with a hint of disdain that was hard to detect. Two men followed behind him, both looking as if they'd come to enjoy the show.

"Need something?" Li Yuan stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow, his tone flat. He knew Zhou Meng and knew the man was tough, one of the top fighters in the Class A Room.

Zhou Meng didn't answer. His eyes swept over Li Yuan's coarse tunic, soaked with sweat and clinging to the clear lines of his muscles, then over the pair of heavy stone locks in the courtyard, which had plainly seen frequent use. His lips curled.

"You're Li Yuan, right?" Zhou Meng finally spoke. His voice was as hard-edged as he was. "I heard you broke the ironwood stake in the test with one punch?"

"Got lucky," Li Yuan said tersely.

"Lucky?" Zhou Meng scoffed and strolled two steps closer. "Did you get from the Class C Room to Class A Courtyard Number One on luck, too? How come I never get that lucky?"

One of the men behind him chimed in sarcastically, "Senior Brother Zhou, maybe he's been keeping some special tonic all to himself. How else could he have shot up so fast?"

Li Yuan's expression didn't change. He simply looked at Zhou Meng. "What are you trying to say?"

"Simple." Zhou Meng stopped three paces in front of him. They were about the same height, but their auras were beginning to clash. "Not just anyone gets to live in Class A Courtyard Number One. I've trained at this martial hall for three years, and I've only just made it into the upper ranks of the Class A Room. You're a newcomer who hasn't earned a thing, yet one test put you above everyone else. The brothers aren't happy about it."

He paused, staring Li Yuan in the eye. "Let's spar."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Things like this were common at the martial hall: old hands putting newcomers in their place, especially newcomers like Li Yuan, who had been dropped in from nowhere and given the best resources.

The courtyard fell quiet. Only the leaves rustled in the wind.

Li Yuan looked at Zhou Meng. The challenge in his eyes and the resentment beneath it were plain to see. He knew there was no avoiding this fight. At the martial hall, fists sometimes spoke louder than reason.

He said nothing. He casually draped the towel he'd used to wipe his sweat over one of the stone locks, then turned and walked a few steps to the open ground in the middle of the courtyard. He stopped there. His meaning was clear: come on.

Zhou Meng's gaze sharpened. "Good!"

The two men behind him immediately stepped aside to clear the ground.

Zhou Meng didn't waste words. He drove off the ground with a sudden stomp, leaving a shallow half-footprint on the flagstones, and lunged forward like a ferocious tiger pouncing on its prey! His right fist clenched, the muscles in his arm knotting as it cut through the air and drove straight at Li Yuan's face. It was the Blustering Wind Martial Hall's signature technique—Cracking Wind Fist!

The speed, power, and momentum behind this punch were far beyond anything Zhao Hu and his ilk could muster. Before the fist even arrived, its crushing gust was already in Li Yuan's face.

Li Yuan's pupils narrowed. Instead of retreating, he advanced!

He stepped forward with his left foot, turning his body slightly to avoid the strongest part of the punch. At the same time, his right arm snapped out like a drawn bowstring. There was no fancy move—just a simple straight punch, aimed at Zhou Meng's wrist!

He struck after, yet arrived first!

Smack!

A crisp collision rang out, like two blocks of hardwood crashing together.

Zhou Meng felt a massive, tricky force hit his wrist, heavy yet resilient. It swept his seemingly sure-to-land punch aside! His momentum scattered in an instant, leaving his center wide open!

His heart jolted. This is bad! He hurriedly tried to change his move and pull back.

But Li Yuan was faster!

His right arm barely paused after knocking aside the punch. With the force of his forward momentum behind it, his elbow fired like a cannonball and slammed toward Zhou Meng's exposed chest!

Zhou Meng had only enough time to hurriedly brace his left arm across his chest.

Thud!

A muffled impact.

Zhou Meng felt as if a rampaging bull had crashed into him. His bracing arm went instantly numb, and a tremendous force tore through it and slammed into his chest. His blood and qi churned. He staggered back five or six steps before his back struck the courtyard wall and brought him to a stop. His face flushed, his chest heaved, and he stared at Li Yuan in shock.

One move!

In a single move, before he could even see how Li Yuan had struck, he had already lost!

The courtyard fell deathly silent.

The two Class A Room disciples who had come to watch gaped, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads. They knew Zhou Meng's strength. He was one of the top fighters in the Class A Room, and yet... he'd just lost like that? So swiftly and decisively?

Li Yuan lowered his elbow and stood where he was, breathing evenly, as if he'd merely swatted a fly. He looked at Zhou Meng, who leaned against the wall with a shifting expression, and spoke:

"Feel better now?"

Zhou Meng's throat bobbed. He wanted to say something, but the tightness in his chest hadn't eased yet. Looking at Li Yuan's calm, unreadable face, he felt his defiance and pride smashed apart by that elbow. He wasn't a sore loser, but the way he'd lost had been too swift, too humiliating.

He took several deep breaths, forcing down his surging blood and qi, then straightened and cupped his fists toward Li Yuan. His voice was a little hoarse. "...I'm impressed."

After speaking, he didn't linger. He turned and left, his steps somewhat hurried. The other two hurried after him, tails between their legs.

The courtyard gate closed again.

Li Yuan walked over to the stone locks, picked up the towel, and slowly wiped the elbow that had just collided with Zhou Meng. There wasn't even a red mark.

He looked up at the little patch of dust newly stirred up in the corner of the courtyard wall. His expression didn't change.

He knew this was only the beginning. The waters in the Class A Room ran much deeper than in the Class C Room. After he'd beaten one Zhou Meng into submission, there would still be Li Meng and Wang Meng.

But that was fine.

He clenched his fist, feeling the surging strength beneath his skin.

No matter how many came, he'd beat them all into submission.