Senior Disciple of Wuwei Martial Hall

Seeing the people in white martial arts uniforms surrounding him, Xia Ping's eyes flickered, but he wasn't alarmed. They were at the school gates, in full view of the public. Surely these people wouldn't dare attack him.

And even if they did, he wasn't afraid.

"You're Xia Ping?"

The speaker was a young man with a buzz cut, about seventeen or eighteen years old. He was powerfully built, his eyes bright, and he radiated strength.

Every move he made seemed effortless and natural. Even as he walked, he appeared to weave martial techniques into ordinary movements. Xia Ping could tell at a glance that he was an expert, stronger than Zhou Tai'an.

"I am. What do you want?" Xia Ping asked, looking calmly at the young man with the buzz cut.

The young man's eyes flashed with a frightening light. He spoke aggressively. "My name is Yao Zhong, and I'm the senior disciple of Wuwei Martial Hall. Zhou Tai'an studies there too, which makes him my junior. Do you understand what that means?"

His immense aura bore down on Xia Ping, as if trying to force him to submit.

"I see. Zhou Tai'an couldn't beat me, so he sent his senior disciple to cause trouble?" Xia Ping looked at him disdainfully. "First the junior, then the senior. Looks like Zhou Tai'an really can't take a loss."

"Shut up! What the hell do you know?"

"Who are you calling a sore loser? Don't spread rumors!"

"Senior Brother Zhou didn't ask us to come. We came on our own!"

The men in white martial arts uniforms shouted angrily, glaring at Xia Ping as if they wanted to tear him apart and eat him alive. If people believed that Wuwei Martial Hall couldn't take a loss, its reputation would be ruined.

"Looks like you're not just despicable. You've got a poisonous tongue, too."

Yao Zhong stared at Xia Ping. "But a martial artist relies on strength and skill. Might makes right—not a silver tongue. Someone who only knows how to talk will never amount to much."

A trace of coldness curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Is that so?" Xia Ping replied calmly. "Your junior was beaten by someone who only knows how to talk. One punch was all it took to cripple him, and he couldn't even get back up."

"Shut up! Who said you could talk? You don't know what's good for you!"

With a roar, a cold glint flashed in Yao Zhong's eyes as he suddenly struck, swinging his palm toward Xia Ping's face. It whistled through the air, packed with tremendous force.

The move was also bizarre and fearsome. In an instant, countless palm shadows appeared in the air, like butterflies flitting among flowers, making it impossible to tell where the real strike was.

Whoosh!

Xia Ping didn't even look. He shifted his body and stepped back a few paces, dodging the palm with ease.

With a bang, the palm struck empty air. Its tremendous force rippled outward, sending blasts of energy in every direction. It slammed into a nearby concrete wall, leaving a clear palm print as chunks of stone clattered to the ground.

"What? That kid actually dodged Senior Brother's Thousand Illusion Palm? How is that possible?" The men in white martial arts uniforms were stunned. They'd come to watch the show, expecting to see their senior brother slap the kid. A blow like that would probably have knocked out several of his teeth, left his mouth full of blood, and sent him groveling on the ground like a dog.

Instead, the kid had dodged the strike with ease, as if it were nothing.

"You've got some skill. No wonder you could beat my junior, Zhou Tai'an." Yao Zhong's eyes flickered. "You actually dodged my Thousand Illusion Palm. Looks like you're no pushover."

He was a powerful Martial Apprentice at the Seventh Heaven, and he'd struck without warning, catching Xia Ping off guard. Yet the kid had still dodged. That was highly unusual.

"You're asking for death?!" A hint of anger flashed in Xia Ping's eyes. It was obvious the man was deliberately provoking him. If he hadn't dodged just now, Yao Zhong's slap would have sent him flying and left his face swollen, humiliating him completely.

"Asking for death?"

Yao Zhong sneered. "With your level of skill, you think you can take me on? I suggest you hold your temper. Even if you were lucky enough to dodge one of my palms, you still wouldn't be a match for me."

"Besides, I didn't come here to fight you. I came to warn you: don't get too arrogant, or sooner or later, disaster will find you."

"My junior may have lost to you this time, but that doesn't mean he'll keep losing."

"He'll get his revenge himself one day. Just wait."

With that, he turned to leave with the others.

"You hit me. Did you really think you could just walk away?" Xia Ping looked at Yao Zhong calmly. "Take one punch from me, too. Let's see if you're qualified to run your mouth."

In an instant, he moved. His aura surged as he crossed three or four meters and appeared in front of Yao Zhong, then suddenly unleashed a punch.

Five Forms Fist: Dragon Fist: Azure Dragon Moves the Heavens!

"What?!"

Yao Zhong's expression changed drastically. He never expected the kid to dare attack him—a powerful Martial Apprentice at the Seventh Heaven. He was caught completely off guard.

The punch was terrifyingly powerful and domineering, carrying several thousand jin of force. It boomed as energy blasted outward, as if a dragon were roaring through the void and shaking heaven and earth.

With no time to spare, Yao Zhong could only raise both hands and brace himself defensively. His fists collided with Yao Zhong's palms, and their forces exploded. Yao Zhong couldn't withstand the terrifying power and was sent flying.

Bang!

His body slammed into the school wall, smashing a human-shaped crater into it. Shards of stone flew everywhere as clouds of dust billowed. He couldn't help spitting out a mouthful of blood; his internal organs were injured.

"With skill like that, you still dared to run your mouth at me? You're not good enough, Yao Zhong. Understand?" Xia Ping stood with his hands behind his back, looking calmly at Yao Zhong, whom he'd sent flying with a single punch.

"If you make me angry, I'll cripple you with one punch and send you to the hospital, just like your foolish junior."

Hearing that, the men in white martial arts uniforms flew into a rage.

"He ambushed you and still has the nerve to act so arrogant?!"

"You actually dared to attack Senior Brother Yao. You're asking to die!"

"Let's all jump him and teach him a lesson!"

They were furious.

"Want to fight? You'd better think carefully," Xia Ping sneered. "This is Tianshui City No. 95 Middle School, my turf. If I call out, hundreds of my buddies will come running."

"If you want to die, go ahead and make a move."

Hearing that, the dozen or so men in white martial arts uniforms were stunned, and they began to lose their nerve. Only then did they remember that they were on the other guy's turf, right outside the school gates.

If the kid really shouted, hundreds of people might come rushing out and beat them up. They'd be in serious trouble; they might end up in the hospital for months.

For a moment, they looked at one another, unsure what to do.