Zhao Tieshan's final command fell, and the atmosphere at the Training Ground exploded.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three war drums thundered beneath the blows of bare-chested brutes, their beats crashing like bolts of lightning against everyone's hearts.
A steward let out a hoarse shout and waved the command flag in his hand.
"The first round of the tournament: a hundred-man melee! Begin!"
Nearly a hundred members of the War Hall charged toward the three platforms in the center.
Roars and howls interwove.
The scene descended into chaos in an instant.
The rules of the first round were simple.
All contestants would fight without distinction across the area formed by the three platforms and the open ground around them.
No teammates.
No rules.
Any means were allowed.
The number of people on the field dwindled.
The last twenty standing would remain.
The first round would be over.
Those twenty would qualify for the next round.
Lu Chen was among the crowd, but he didn't charge toward the platforms at the center.
His expression calm, he moved his feet while rapidly surveying the entire battlefield.
His goal was clear: qualify.
Surviving a melee of nearly a hundred people took good judgment.
The strongest fighters, Zhang Meng and Li Kui, had already claimed advantageous positions on the platforms.
A vacuum had formed around them.
For the moment, no one dared approach.
Most of the members fought one-on-one or ganged up in groups of three or five on opponents who looked weak.
Screams, clashing weapons, and cracking bones rose one after another.
People were knocked to the ground without end.
Those who fell were trampled by the battling crowds around them, leaving them unable to fight.
Stewards at the edge of the field dragged them away.
Lu Chen darted through the chaos like a fish.
He deliberately avoided the brawls where fighters had gone red-eyed.
He also steered clear of the central platform area occupied by Zhang Meng and the others.
He moved along the battlefield's edge, conserving his strength and looking for the right opportunity.
His refusal to fight or compete drew a few people's attention.
In a melee, anyone who kept apart from the fighting was seen as an easy target.
"That kid's hiding. Let's get him out first!"
A scar-faced man exchanged glances with his two companions.
The three of them immediately reached an understanding.
They spread out in a triangular formation and silently closed in on Lu Chen.
The three got along well, and they had agreed to work together in the first round, clearing out the weak first to make sure they qualified.
Lu Chen, a newcomer who had only recently joined the gang, was an ideal target.
The scar-faced man approached from behind.
He swung the short baton in his hand, sending it whistling toward the back of Lu Chen's head.
Even if the blow didn't knock the newcomer unconscious, it would be enough to throw him off balance.
Then his two companions could swarm him and finish the fight.
Just as the baton was about to hit him,
Lu Chen, who had been facing away, suddenly turned sideways.
The baton swept past the tip of his nose.
At the same time, Lu Chen moved.
He used no technique.
He didn't even look at his attacker.
Riding the momentum of his turn, he tensed the muscles in his right arm and drove his elbow backward like a heavy hammer.
A dull thud.
The scar-faced man felt an immense force slam into his chest from Lu Chen's elbow.
Crack!
The sound of his breastbone caving in and breaking rang out clearly.
The scar-faced man's ferocious grin froze.
Agonizing pain and disbelief replaced it.
The force sent him flying several meters, his feet lifting off the ground.
He knocked over two gang members who were fighting along the way.
He finally crashed heavily to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth as he passed out on the spot.
The sudden turn of events brought several people nearby to a halt.
That included the scar-faced man's two companions.
They watched helplessly as their brother was struck down by a single backward elbow from that newcomer, his life hanging in the balance.
How much strength did that take?
"You... you..."
The color drained from the remaining two men's faces. They pointed at Lu Chen, unable to get the words out.
Lu Chen slowly turned around, his calm gaze settling on them.
There was no killing intent in his eyes, no anger—only indifference.
That very indifference sent a chill rushing from the soles of their feet to the crowns of their heads.
"Together! Kill him!"
Fear drove one of them to viciousness. He roared to work up his courage and charged at Lu Chen with his saber.
The other man came to his senses, gritted his teeth, and attacked from the opposite direction.
Faced with the two of them closing in, Lu Chen neither dodged nor retreated.
He stepped forward with his left foot, lowered his body slightly, and planted himself firmly on the ground.
He didn't draw a weapon. He simply raised both arms and crossed them in front of his chest.
Clang! Clang!
The two broad sabers struck Lu Chen's arms almost simultaneously.
The expected spray of blood never came.
Instead, two muffled thuds rang out, like blades striking tough oxhide.
The two gang members felt as though their sabers had hit a wooden post wrapped in iron.
The tremendous rebound traveled up the hilts, numbing their hands and nearly knocking the weapons from their grips.
When they looked at Lu Chen, he had taken both blows with his bare flesh and only swayed slightly.
His clothes had torn where the blades struck, but his exposed skin showed only two faint white marks.
They hadn't even broken the skin.
"How... how is that possible?!"
Their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads. They were aghast.
No human body could have that kind of defense.
That moment of distraction sealed their fate.
Lu Chen moved.
He flung his arms outward, unleashing a burst of immense force that knocked both sabers aside.
Then he lunged like a bull and smashed into one man's chest.
The man was sent flying backward.
He had no idea how many bones in his chest had broken.
He lost consciousness before he hit the ground.
After dispatching one, Lu Chen didn't pause. He turned and threw a straight punch at the last man.
The man was already scared out of his wits. He barely managed to hold his saber crosswise against his chest.
Lu Chen's fist slammed squarely into the blade.
The steel-forged saber bent inward and slammed hard against the man's chest.
He let out a scream, flew out of the fighting area, and crashed to the ground, his fate unknown.
In the blink of an eye, Lu Chen had taken down the three gang members who had picked a fight with him, using the most direct and brutish methods.
His strength and defense made those nearby who'd been eyeing him instinctively step back, putting distance between themselves and this menace.
This was nothing like the strength a newcomer should have.
Lu Chen stood where he was and shook out his tingling arms.
Bronze Skin's defenses were formidable, but taking two blade strikes head-on still hurt a little.
Still, he had long since grown used to pain of this degree.
He looked around. No one else dared approach him casually.
That was exactly the effect he wanted.
To establish his reputation.
To tell everyone in the most shocking way possible that he wasn't an easy target.
The rest of the melee passed with unusual ease for Lu Chen.
He strolled around the field at a leisurely pace.
Anyone who accidentally wandered into his range was sent flying with a punch or a kick.
He was like a moving iron tower, radiating pressure.
As time passed, the number of people on the field dwindled.
From nearly a hundred to fifty, then to thirty.
The fighting grew fiercer and fiercer.
Those still standing were all capable fighters.
So as not to draw too much attention, Lu Chen began to "take a few hits."
He deliberately held back and let some attacks land on him.
Then he put on a show of panting heavily, as if he were running out of strength.
He took a baton across the back.
A kick caught him in the leg.
A fist's passing wind even grazed his face, leaving him looking rather battered.
But he never fell.
Thanks to Bronze Skin's defenses, those attacks felt like nothing more than a tickle.
After Zhang Meng punched the last gang member off the platform, the steward's hoarse shout finally rang out.
"Stop! The first-round melee is over! Twenty contestants have qualified!"
Lu Chen stood in the middle of the field, panting heavily. Covered in injuries, he looked as though he had barely made it through a bloody battle.
He had successfully remained among the last twenty.
On the raised stand, Zhao Tieshan watched the upright figure in the field, a trace of curiosity flashing through his eyes.
"This Lu Iron Skin is interesting."
He spoke quietly to the Deputy Hall Master beside him.
"He does have some skill. His strength and ability to take a beating are among the best of the newcomers."
The Deputy Hall Master nodded in agreement.
Zhao Tieshan smiled and said no more. Instead, he rose to his feet, his booming voice once again resounding across the entire field.
"Congratulations to everyone who qualified! Rest for one incense stick's time, then prepare for the second round: the twenty-to-five platform tournament!"
"Now, the matchups!"
The steward began loudly announcing the results of the draw.
Standing below the platform, Lu Chen regulated his breathing as he listened for his opponent's name.
"Group ten: Lu Chen versus... 'Mad Dog' Zhang San!"
The name triggered a low murmur of surprise across the crowd.
The qualified gang members around Lu Chen immediately looked at him with sympathy.
Mad Dog Zhang San.
He was a renowned fighter in the War Hall. He wasn't among the very strongest, but when he fought, he was more willing to risk his life than anyone.
His moves had no pattern at all. He fought as if his life depended on it, and once he latched on to an opponent, even a victory would cost them dearly.
Lu Chen lifted his head and looked toward a tough-looking man nearby who was licking the blood off his blade.
The man happened to look his way, too. He bared his teeth in a cruel grin.
That was his opponent, Mad Dog Zhang San.
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