First Battle in the Martial Arena: Through-Arm Against Tiger Soul

The next day, late afternoon, the sun blazed fiercely.

Yang Ning stood once more before the black banner emblazoned with golden letters.

He took out his wooden token and showed it to the guards at the entrance before pushing the door open.

The crashing wave of clamor still hit him head-on, mixed with the stench of sweat, blood, cheap liquor, and frenzied roars.

At the center of the enormous circular venue stood a packed-earth ring raised three feet above the ground, currently empty.

Yet the stepped stands surrounding it were already sixty or seventy percent full. Men and women, young and old, all red-faced as they punched the air and shouted.

Several passageways lay along the edge of the venue, leading to different areas. Following the rules he had learned earlier, Yang Ning found the narrow passage marked "Fighter Entrance."

Unlike last time, when Steward Liu had received him, a gaunt middle-aged man in a dark-blue short jacket, with two wispy rat-tail mustaches, was waiting at the entrance. Led by him, Yang Ning entered the passage.

"You're here?"

Yang Ning looked up and found that Steward Liu, who had dealt with him yesterday, had arrived as well.

Steward Liu sized Yang Ning up. Seeing his washed-out gray cloth outfit and lean but upright frame, a trace of nearly imperceptible scrutiny flickered through his eyes.

"Where's your token?"

Yang Ning pulled the wooden number plate carved with "Seventy-Nine" from his clothes and tied it around his neck with hemp cord.

"Come with me."

Steward Liu turned and led the way through a dim corridor, arriving at a small preparation room piled full of miscellaneous items.

Three other men wearing wooden tokens were already preparing inside. Their expressions varied, but when they saw someone enter, they merely cast him an indifferent glance.

"I'll explain the Martial Arena's rules to you fledglings one more time."

Leaning against the doorframe, Steward Liu spoke calmly, yet with unquestionable authority:

"Here, forget your names and identities in the city. Once you step onto the ring, you are nobody—not Zhang San, not Li Si. You are only a wooden-token fighter of the Martial Arena!"

The men simply nodded in silence and continued with their own business.

Steward Liu gave Yang Ning a look, and Yang Ning quickly followed him to a corner of the room.

He pointed at an open wooden chest against the wall.

"Pick a mask and put it on.

"This is the Martial Arena's protection, and also its rule."

Yang Ning walked over to the chest. Dozens of masks were piled inside, made from all sorts of materials: rough carved wood, dull copper sheeting, dyed leather, and a handful of finer porcelain masks or jade pieces.

His gaze passed over masks that were vicious, comical, or ordinary, before finally stopping on a half-mask of white jade.

A faint throb in his heart made Yang Ning choose it.

The mask had been polished smooth and warm. In the dim light, it gave off a hazy jade-white glow. It covered only the area above the mouth and nose, its lines simple and free of any patterns or carvings, yet it somehow carried an aloof, chilling air.

Yang Ning reached out and picked it up.

It was cool to the touch and surprisingly heavy.

"I'd advise you to choose another one."

Steward Liu's voice sounded beside him, carrying a hint of amusement.

"This White Jade Mask has had quite a few previous owners.

"It was brought in by an outsider. The first person to wear it was some arrogant so-called genius.

"With the strength of the three Foundation Establishment barriers, he thought he could make a name for himself in the Martial Arena. In the end, his breastbone was smashed to pieces by an old hand in his very first fight. He did not even last half an hour after being carried away."

He paused, watching Yang Ning's reaction.

"After that, four or five newcomers who did not know the height of heaven or the depth of earth were drawn to its appearance and chose it as well. Without exception, they either died or were crippled after stepping into the ring.

"This thing... has something sinister about it. It's unlucky."

Yang Ning stroked the smooth jade surface and raised his eyes to Steward Liu.

"Thank you for the warning, Steward. But..."

The moment he picked it up, a completely undisguised malice shot toward the heavens. Yet Yang Ning, who bore Destiny, discovered it.

This was a spiritual object that an ordinary fate could not bear.

But today, it had encountered Yang Ning.

[Destined Martial Saint]

He slowly covered his face with the mask and tightened the hemp cord.

The malice that had soared to the heavens was already suppressed by Destiny, making it meek and docile.

The icy jade pressed against his skin, refreshing Yang Ning's mind. The instant he put it on completely, it became part of his body. With every breath, it seemed to follow the rhythm of his body.

"I have my own judgment."

His voice came through the mask. It was not as muffled as those before him, but carried the clear, sharp chill of metal and jade.

Steward Liu was slightly taken aback, then smiled. That smile now held a few more traces of genuine interest in the person before him.

"Good. You've got guts.

"Then I'd like to see how you differ from the ones before you."

He stepped aside and opened the way.

"Today's trial is your only upper-tier match, and you'll fight on the main ring.

"Your opponent is Copper Twenty-One, an expert in Through-Arm Fist. He has fought eleven matches in the Martial Arena: seven wins, three losses, and one draw.

"As for cultivation... he's about the same as you, around the Dragon Bone Barrier.

"Today is a bare-handed fight. Weapons and hidden weapons are forbidden; everything else goes. The winner gets ten taels of silver. The loser... may Heaven help him."

Yang Ning nodded without another word and strode toward the door at the end of the passage, where clamor and light spilled through.

Steward Liu watched his retreating back and muttered under his breath:

"Confidence, or ignorance?

"White Jade Mask...

"Heh, perhaps we'll see something new today."

The instant he stepped into the ring area, the roar of the crowd multiplied several times over, nearly deafening him.

Yang Ning narrowed his eyes, adjusting to the sudden brightness.

It came from several large oil lamps hanging above the ring.

The main ring was about three zhang square, its packed earth surface soaked in blood and stained with dark-brown, age-old marks that could never be washed clean.

At the same time, a figure stepped onto the ring from the opposite passage.

The man was tall and thin, though Yang Ning stood nearly half a head taller. He wore a green fighting outfit and had a sickly green wooden mask over his face.

Twisted vine patterns were painted across the mask, leaving only a pair of narrow, cold eyes exposed.

The copper token at his neck swayed lightly with his steps.

He was Copper Twenty-One.

"A little fledgling?"

The man in the green mask spoke in a hoarse voice, his contempt undisguised.

"And you're wearing a white face-shell, pretending to be some ghost or god."

Scattered jeers and laughter rose from the stands. Clearly, no one thought much of the newcomer.

A lean, bare-chested man leaped onto the ring to serve as referee. Spreading his arms, he suppressed the noise.

"Wood Seventy-Nine versus Copper Twenty-One!

"Bare-handed combat. Whoever falls off the ring, stays down for ten breaths, or speaks surrender loses!

"Everything else goes. Let the fight begin!"

Clang!

The moment the bronze gong rang, Copper Twenty-One of the green mask moved!

His left foot slid forward, and his body closed the distance like a ghost. Without warning, his right arm snapped out from beneath his ribs, stabbing straight at Yang Ning's throat!

That arm extended farther than an ordinary man's, soft as a whip. It cracked sharply through the air with a snap!

This was the Through-Arm Fist!

It emphasized striking from afar with extended reach, softness containing hardness. Both arms were like whips yet not whips, able to reach where ordinary people could not!

Yang Ning's pupils contracted slightly, but instead of retreating, he advanced!

His right foot smashed down. His waist and hips twisted, the great dragon of his spine linking segment by segment as a fierce surge of blood and vitality rose from his feet, passed through his waist and back, and poured into his right fist!

He neither dodged nor yielded, meeting the thrust with a punch!

Tiger Soul Fist—Fierce Tiger Climbs the Mountain!

Bang!

Fist and arm collided with a sound like muffled thunder!

Yang Ning felt his fist tremble. The other man's arm was soft but immensely resilient, bleeding away part of the force.

At the same time, a yin-soft power seeped in through his arm, making his blood and vitality stagnate slightly.

But Copper Twenty-One let out a muffled grunt and staggered back two steps. The right arm he had attacked with hung unnaturally at his side, trembling faintly!

"What a hard fist! This one's a tough nut!"

The eyes beneath Copper Twenty-One's green mask turned grave, all contempt gone.

A wave of startled exclamations rose from the stands.

When an expert made a move, the difference in skill was immediately clear. This newcomer had actually taken the piercing strike of the Through-Arm Fist head-on without falling behind, even gaining a slight advantage?

Yang Ning pressed his advantage without mercy. His feet stamped forward in rapid succession, his footwork heavy and fierce like a crouching tiger as he closed in instantly!

His left fist feinted, while his right fist exploded upward from his waist, blasting straight toward the other man's chest and abdomen!