The Storm Approaches

Ma Jun could barely make out the general movements and positional shifts of the two combatants, but of Chen Yue's exquisitely subtle fist technique variations and Zhou Jingfeng's effortless counters, he could discern at most two or three parts out of ten—many crucial details flickered past like flowers glimpsed through fog, vanishing in an instant.

Even so, the fierce gale of fists rushing toward him and the footwork so swift it dazzled his eyes already pressed down on him with a suffocating weight.

Yu Kan, stronger by far, saw the exchange in the arena with much greater clarity.

And precisely because he saw so clearly, the shock in his heart surged like towering waves, each higher than the last, nearly drowning him.

He could distinctly identify the power generation in every punch Chen Yue threw, the coordination of his footwork, and could perceive the martial principles hidden within his master's seemingly casual movements.

Yu Kan discovered, with great "surprise," that if he were the one facing Chen Yue in that moment, he would have already lost.

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That realization sent a faint chill down Yu Kan's spine.

He considered himself quite proficient in Iron Mountain Fist and Roaming Mountains and Rivers, a decent hand even among the Skin Refining Realm. But what Chen Yue displayed was far more than mere proficiency!

It was a profound understanding of the essence of fist techniques and footwork, a consummate realm where they had been fully transformed into his own combat instinct!

In these twenty-odd days, just how had Chen Yue trained? Did he have twenty-four hours in a day, spending them all without eating, drinking, or sleeping, solely on martial practice and comprehension?

Yet even so, without a master's guidance, without sparring with fellow disciples, without sufficient resources to temper his body, how could he have avoided every wrong turn and honed his skill to such an inconceivable level?

Yu Kan watched the figure in the arena, growing ever more valiant as he fought, his fist momentum like a dragon, and the last shred of subtle superiority he'd felt from age and seniority vanished completely, leaving only boundless shock and a trace of heartfelt admiration for his master's judgment.

His master hadn't just taken on a disciple—he'd picked up a treasure!

"Boom!"

Another dull impact rang out, not from fist meeting palm, but from Zhou Jingfeng, amid a flurry of Chen Yue's storm-like rapid attacks, slipping both hands like parting flowers and brushing willows into the dense shadow of fists, left and right, lightly resting them on Chen Yue's wrists at the pulse gates.

The motion was gentle, yet carried an irresistible sticking force, instantly locking down all of Chen Yue's subsequent variations.

Chen Yue felt both wrists go numb, his surging fist force crashing against an invisible dam, suddenly stagnating, and his following moves could no longer be unleashed. He knew his master had already gauged his full measure, so he immediately reined in his breath and halted his attack.

Zhou Jingfeng released his grip, the undisguised joy on his face nearly overflowing.

He looked at Chen Yue, who was breathing slightly hard, and spoke with lavish praise and a hint of incredulous wonder: "Chen Yue, you've done well, very well! In such a short time, to have cultivated Iron Mountain Fist and Roaming Mountains and Rivers to this level!

Your force flows smoothly and freely, your techniques come as they will, and what's rarer is that instinct to adapt on the fly without clinging to fixed forms! In terms of mastering these two basic martial arts alone, you've grasped their very essence!"

"Thank you for your praise, Master. This disciple will surely continue to train diligently without cease." Chen Yue stepped back, calming the surging energy and blood within, and cupped his fists in humble acknowledgment.

Zhou Jingfeng's eyes blazed as he looked at Chen Yue, growing more satisfied with each glance, his enthusiasm rising. He pressed on: "I've seen your fist techniques and footwork. You mentioned Iron Mountain Saber earlier—how is your saber training progressing? Any doubts?"

"Reporting to Master, I do have some shallow insights. I ask for your correction."

Chen Yue did not decline. He walked to the weapon rack and took down a practice hardwood saber. The blade was blunt but not light, solid in the hand.

The moment he gripped the hilt and turned to face the open space in the arena, his entire demeanor shifted abruptly!

The agility and ferocity from his fist practice had not fully faded, but now a heavy, solemn, and unstoppable momentum emerged!

No starting stance, no breath-gathering—Chen Yue's gaze suddenly sharpened like a blade's edge. His foot stomped, his waist twisted, his shoulder drove forward, his arm swung—the motion was stripped to its barest essence, and as fast as it could be.

The wooden saber blurred into a gray shadow, slashing down from an oblique angle above!

"Wooom!"

The saber split the air with a low, heavy rumble like rolling thunder. Where the blade pointed, the air ahead seemed physically cleaved apart, dragging a fierce wind that sent dust curling outward several feet away.

In that instant the saber fell, Ma Jun, standing far off, felt a cold sweat break out on his back. He instinctively put himself in the target's place and was horrified to find that no matter how he dodged, he could not evade that strike.

"Excellent!"

Zhou Jingfeng blurted out, his voice loud and brimming with admiration.

He had lost count of how many times he'd said "excellent" today, but the exhilaration and joy of discovering a treasure in his chest left him unwilling to hold back.

An ordinary master teaching a disciple might think to curb their sharpness, guard against arrogance, fearing that a gifted student might grow proud.

But facing a disciple like Chen Yue, Zhou Jingfeng felt only that such talent, such temperament, such progress—Chen Yue had every right to be proud!

Suppress him? No, what he needed to do was guide, to ignite, to let this uncut jade shine in the most dazzling way!

A moment later, Chen Yue sheathed his stance, his breath steady, and returned the wooden saber to the rack with respect.

Having completed a set of basic Iron Mountain Saber forms, though lacking the thrill of real combat, the heavy, fierce saber force and the footwork shifts that subtly echoed Roaming Mountains and Rivers had Zhou Jingfeng nodding repeatedly.

Yu Kan, watching from the side, now fully understood why He Chong, with his Skin Refining Realm strength and five underlings, had been so thoroughly defeated by Chen Yue, nearly gutted with one slash.

Chen Yue's mastery of Iron Mountain Saber was in no way inferior to his fist techniques. That ability to concentrate his entire body's power into a single slash, paired with lightning-fast Roaming Mountains and Rivers—Yu Kan reckoned that if he were in He Chong's place, facing Chen Yue's saber, his outcome would likely be no better.

Meanwhile, at the west end of Hepu County, the Sea Shark Gang's main hall.

The atmosphere was as heavy as a storm about to break. He Chong, his chest wrapped in thick bandages, his face deathly pale, stood shakily supported by two underlings.

Zhou Qi's right shoulder was bundled up like a rice dumpling, hanging in a sling across his chest. The hall reeked of a sharp mix of blood and medicinal herbs.

After listening to He Chong's halting report, the Sea Shark Gang's leader, Tang Qizheng, seated on a tiger-skin armchair, let his face darken visibly.

He was around forty, with a swarthy complexion. Now, a cold light flickered in his eyes as his fingers tapped lightly against the hard rosewood armrest, producing a "thump, thump" sound, each knock striking the hearts of those below.

"A Pearl Diver? Chen Yue?"

Tang Qizheng's voice was not loud, but carried an icy edge. "Zhou Jingfeng sends someone to talk peace, they've barely left, and then my Sea Shark Gang's brothers are beaten to the brink of death by that Pearl Diver? Fine talk of peace! This is nothing but trampling the Sea Shark Gang's face into the dirt!"