Round Two

Fang Hai paid Xu Liqing's coldness no mind. He had come looking for trouble today.

His gaze shifted to Cui Hao, and his smile grew even warmer, like that of a generous and righteous man. "You must be Cui Hao, Junior Brother Cui. I've heard so much about you, and seeing you in person only confirms it—you have a solid foundation and extraordinary potential."

He stepped half a pace closer and lowered his voice, though it still carried a clear note of temptation. "To draw a four-stone bow after reaching the pinnacle of ordinary martial arts—that kind of talent would be wasted if you stayed at Hongzhan Martial School and simply followed the usual routine."

"If you're willing to join my Fang Martial School, six packets of premium Qi and Blood Powder each month will only be the beginning. You'll have all the medicinal meals and meat you can eat, and my father will personally teach you the essentials of the 'Wind and Cloud Palm.' In martial arts, one step ahead means staying ahead at every step. You should understand that, Junior Brother."

"Junior Brother Cui!" Sun Cheng's expression changed, and he hurriedly spoke up. "Don't listen to his nonsense! How can you casually abandon the kindness of your school for passing on its arts?"

Fang Hai shot Sun Cheng a sideways glance, his tone tinged with what seemed like regretful pity. "Senior Brother Sun, your own prospects are already settled. Why stop Junior Brother Cui from reaching for a higher branch? If he stays at Hongzhan, he'll always be stuck beneath Xiao Li, playing second fiddle. At the Fang school, he'd be a core disciple, with resources devoted to him. How could the prospects compare?"

Cui Hao sneered inwardly. For a martial artist to switch schools was a grave taboo. It was no different from cutting himself off from his former circle of teachers and peers, ruining his reputation and leaving him a head shorter than others wherever he went in the future.

Fang Hai's move looked like an offer of riches, but it was really meant to strike at the heart.

He had publicly insulted Xu Liqing and Hongzhan Martial School while eliminating a potential rival—a truly vicious move.

Keeping his expression unchanged, Cui Hao clasped his hands again. His voice was steady, but left no room for negotiation. "Thank you for your generous offer, Senior Brother Fang. But I'll always remember the schoolmaster's kindness in teaching me, and the friendship I've found with my fellow disciples. For now, I only want to focus on my training, with no distractions. I have no other intentions."

The smile on Fang Hai's face visibly faded.

Before approaching him, Fang Hai had already made inquiries. Cui Hao came from poor Willow Tree Village, a peasant through and through. He'd offered such generous terms, and the other man had actually dared to refuse?

With a cold snort, Fang Hai turned and left.

Only then did Sun Cheng let out a long breath. He leaned toward Cui Hao and spoke in a low voice. "Junior Brother, you may not know this, but Fang Hai once pursued Senior Sister and was rejected. He's long since turned love into hate, and has been targeting our school at every turn."

"You've offended him today, so he'll surely hold a grudge. He may make things difficult for you later. Be careful."

Xu Liqing's cheeks flushed faintly. A trace of annoyance flickered in her eyes as she said quietly, "Sun Cheng is right. Be careful."

With that, Xu Liqing hurried off.

Cui Hao and Sun Cheng left the temple square together to find somewhere to eat.

At the start of the wei hour, the war drums sounded again.

The second ordinary martial arts combat round began with the clang of a gong!

The square was even more heated and restless than it had been that morning, with an unmistakable hint of blood in the air.

Shouts, the crack of straining bones and muscles, the heavy thud of fists and feet colliding, and the occasional groan or cry of pain mingled with the swirling dust, forming a brutal and vivid picture of the path to advancement in martial arts.

Many who had failed in the first round had bloodshot eyes. They attacked as if their lives depended on it, trying to defy fate in this last chance and seize the cultivation resources that could change their lives!

Cui Hao's number was called early.

He leaped onto the platform.

His opponent was a burly man with dark skin and knotted muscles, clearly someone who had trained to build raw strength.

When the burly man saw Cui Hao, the corner of his mouth twitched. He cupped his fists and said, "Xie Si, of the Iron Anvil Shop. Please instruct me!"

His voice rang out loud and clear, but a barely perceptible tension lurked beneath it.

He'd watched Cui Hao draw the bow that morning. To face such a powerful opponent in his first match was bound to make anyone uneasy.

But then he thought it over. They'd both reached the pinnacle of ordinary martial arts. Even if there was a gap between them, how big could it be?

Xie Si took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening as he swiftly pushed his doubts aside.

"Cui Hao, of the Broken Fist school." Cui Hao returned the salute.

"Ha!" Xie Si shouted, no longer hesitating. He stamped his foot against the platform's blue bricks with a muffled thud, then charged like a wild bull! The Iron Anvil Shop was Qingyuan City's premier workshop for weapons and farm tools, and its secret techniques leaned toward hard external martial arts—fierce and explosive.

Xie Si's arms bulged like iron, their bronze sheen glinting in the sunlight. His palms howled through the air, bringing with them a wave of scorching heat. It was the Iron Anvil Shop's signature technique, the "Eight Mountain-Splitting Forms"!

His attacks rolled forward like towering waves, each palm strike heavier than the last, their momentum astonishing—as if he really meant to cleave mountains apart!

Cui Hao's expression didn't change. Just as the force of his opponent's palms was about to reach him, his footwork shifted abruptly. Like a nimble snake winding around a tree, he slipped into a gap in the man's surging attack from a subtle angle.

At the same time, his right fist shot out silently. It looked slow but was in fact swift—the "Break Formation" stance, a basic fist technique designed to pierce hard defenses and strike at their weak points!

Smack!

The blow landed with a crisp, surprisingly quiet sound.

Cui Hao's fist struck precisely where Xie Si's ribs met his back, exposed ever so slightly as he charged.

Xie Si felt a concentrated force, sharp as a drill, pierce his body. It didn't smash through him with brute force. Instead, it burst open in an instant, spreading out along his ribs!

Half his body suddenly went numb and sore. His breath caught, and his charge came to an abrupt halt. He stumbled forward several steps before barely managing to steady himself.

Xie Si was horrified. Cui Hao wasn't just strong; he was also remarkably skilled at reading the moment and directing his force.

Cui Hao pressed his advantage. He tapped the ground with his toes and shot forward like an arrow, closing in on Xie Si.

Xie Si was immediately thrown onto the defensive, scrambling to fend him off.

Their figures darted back and forth across the small platform, their fists and palms cutting through the air without pause.

Cui Hao didn't rush to finish the fight. He kept his footing steady, probing and wearing his opponent down as he searched for an opening.

Relying on his thick skin and a burst of fearless grit, Xie Si fought desperately to hold him off, but he could feel himself losing ground more and more.

After more than thirty exchanges, Xie Si's breathing had grown noticeably heavier. Cui Hao keenly caught the opening in the brief pause when his opponent tried to recover his breath.

Thud!

Cui Hao's force surged through his fist. It barely brushed Xie Si's shoulder before he pulled it back.

Xie Si took the hit as if struck by a heavy blow. He grunted as his blood and qi roiled, stumbling backward seven or eight steps until he reached the edge of the platform. One arm had gone limp and was too weak to lift.

"Thank you for the match." Cui Hao withdrew his fist and stood at ease, breathing steadily.

Xie Si's expression shifted several times before settling into a wry smile. He cupped his fists. "Thank you for showing mercy, Brother Cui!"

The presiding official declared Cui Hao the winner, while a clerk nearby quickly recorded the result.

The winners remained in a designated area beneath the platform to await further arrangements. They were also free to watch the other matches.

Cui Hao found a spot with a clear view and scanned several platforms where fighters were locked in fierce combat, carefully studying the techniques of different schools, their methods of applying force, and the tricks that seemed to let the weaker overcome the stronger.

At the same time, he silently calculated what kinds of opponents he might face next and how he ought to "control" his performance—he needed to make sure he advanced without revealing all his trump cards too early and turning himself into everyone's target.

Just as he was watching intently, a sudden burst of cries rang out from another platform not far away—far sharper than ordinary cheers, and even tinged with fear!

Like everyone else, Cui Hao turned around and looked toward the source of the commotion.