Surprise

Zhao Shan had been so enraged by Fatty Fang's final remark that he trembled all over, yet he did not even dare look back. He hurried away with the three lackeys in tow.

The moment they left Peaceful Lane.

Zhao Shan could no longer suppress the rage that had been building inside him, and he vented it all on the three lackeys.

A barrage of curses rained down alongside merciless fists and kicks, beating the three until they lay sprawled in Muddy Alley like dead dogs, vomiting blood, convulsing, and howling miserably.

As a guard for a trading company, Zhao Shan often had to leave the city with caravans on business. Unable to handle everything himself, he could only have the three investigate the true culprit.

Who would have thought they would drag their feet and halfheartedly muddle through? It was not until this morning that they stammered out a report, saying someone had seen Chen Cheng in Buckwheat Alley that night.

When asked for evidence, they had none.

When asked for witnesses, they said the witnesses had suddenly had matters to attend to and were unavailable.

The wicked fire in Zhao Shan's chest had been smoldering for over a month. Seeing that he would soon be leaving the city with another caravan, he no longer wished to wait, so he had rushed over during the noon break.

He had originally intended to have Zhang Ping lure Chen Cheng out, then abduct him for a thorough interrogation.

Yet Chen Cheng was far from the weak, easily bullied man he had imagined. The moment Chen Cheng struck, Zhao Shan had been caught completely off guard, and then others had been alerted, ruining the entire plan.

"...Chen Cheng!"

Zhao Shan ground his back teeth together. His five fingers curled into a fist, his knuckles cracking explosively as veins writhed across the back of his hand.

Before the gates of Dragon Mountain Martial Hall.

Zhang Ping collapsed to his knees, his voice trembling with tears.

"Brother A-Cheng, it wasn't me who wanted to harm you... Zhao Shan held a knife to my neck and forced me... If I hadn't come, he could have skinned me alive on the spot..."

"It's nothing."

Chen Cheng looked utterly unconcerned.

"It was good that this festering sore got lanced... Otherwise, I would not have known that Zhao Shan was Laitou's... close relative."

Feeling as though he had received a pardon, Zhang Ping hurriedly scrambled to his feet and edged half a step closer.

"Brother A-Cheng, don't worry too much either... Zhao Shan is leaving the city with a merchant caravan early tomorrow morning. By the time he returns next time, it will probably be a month or two later."

Tomorrow?

At those words, an almost imperceptible glint flashed through Chen Cheng's eyes.

He said nothing more, and Zhang Ping did not dare linger. After hastily cupping his hands in salute, he staggered away.

When Chen Cheng turned to head back, Fatty Fang was still waiting at the entrance.

"Thank you for helping me out just now, Senior Brother Fang."

"Ah, why are you being so polite with me? Did you call me Senior Brother for nothing?"

Fatty Fang grinned. The warmth in his voice was clearly different from before, carrying the casual ease reserved for someone close.

Over the past month or so, he had watched coldly as Chen Cheng slowly nursed his body back to health. Chen Cheng had a brain, and he dared to think and act.

Although Chen Cheng's progress in the Crouching Dragon Fist was not especially fast, it was more than solid—near-perfect, in fact. His almost self-torturing daily training showed a temperament of extraordinary tenacity.

If he continued tempering himself for another four or five months, Chen Cheng might well be able to condense Blood Qi and enter the Middle Academy.

If Chen Cheng truly had his day of a carp leaping through the dragon gate...

Fatty Fang was no fool. Of course he knew that a cold stove had to be lit in advance.

Taking this opportunity today, he had firmly sold Chen Cheng a favor. Any change in his attitude afterward would naturally follow.

"Come on, let's go watch the show."

Fatty Fang's fan-sized palm landed on Chen Cheng's shoulder without room for argument. Half pulling and half shoving, he brought Chen Cheng back to the training yard.

By then, the disciples had already gathered themselves along the edges of the yard, leaving the center completely open.

Fatty Fang released Chen Cheng and walked straight into the middle.

"Today is the Lower Academy's monthly Minor Competition. The strongest disciple may receive one portion of Blood Refining Powder! This is a grace bestowed by the Upper Academy's instructors. Remember it well—never forget your teachers' kindness!"

"Yes!"

After the disciples answered in unison, Wang Han was the first to step forward.

His waist and back were ramrod straight, his gaze blazing. Fierce battle intent spread from him without the slightest attempt at concealment.

His half-year deadline was nearly up. Today's Blood Refining Powder was undoubtedly his final chance, and he was unwilling to wait even a moment longer.

"Senior Brother Wang has eaten meat without interruption these past six months and trained far harder than ordinary people. He is only one step away from minor mastery of the Crouching Dragon Fist. With strength like that, who could contend with him?"

Ding Qiang, who usually stuck close to Wang Han, immediately jumped out. Narrowing his eyes, he cast a sidelong glance around at everyone, putting on the airs of a lackey flaunting his master's might.

The other disciples nodded again and again in agreement. Who would dare say otherwise?

"Senior Brother Fang, is there even a need to compete? I say we should just give the Blood Refining Powder directly to Senior Brother Wang..."

Li He, who likewise followed Wang Han's lead, immediately began to stir things up.

But before he could finish, a silent figure stepped into the center of the yard and interrupted him.

Shi Lei.

He walked straight to a spot three steps before Wang Han and stopped. His shaved head was slightly lowered, hiding his expression, while his tightly clenched fists revealed a coldness suppressed to the extreme.

The edge of the yard instantly fell silent. Even Chen Cheng was taken aback.

Wang Han looked at Shi Lei without much surprise. Instead, a mocking sneer tugged at his lips.

"Lei, I know you've always wanted to get justice for Ma Zhao, but your natural foundation was worse than mine from the beginning, and you entered two months later than I did. I advise you not to ask for trouble..."

"Cut the fucking crap!"

Shi Lei suddenly raised his head. The rage he had been suppressing finally erupted from his eyes. With a kick off the ground, his body shot forward like a taut bowstring.

His opening move was the Crouching Dragon Seal, the most fierce and direct move in the Crouching Dragon Fist. Both claws locked toward Wang Han's shoulder joints. There was not the slightest probing involved—he was fighting for his life from the very start.

"Remember, stop at the proper point!"

Fatty Fang shouted sternly, "Anyone who seriously injures a fellow disciple will have the term of their Death-Pledge Contract doubled!"

Shi Lei turned a deaf ear, not holding back his strength in the slightest.

Wang Han remained expressionless. In an instant, he dropped his shoulders and sank his elbows, using the Dragon Scale Vest to steadily brace Shi Lei's arms. The muscles across his shoulders and back rolled, deflecting most of the force behind that enraged blow.

From that exchange alone, anyone with eyes could see that Wang Han surpassed Shi Lei in both strength and foundation. Even his practical combat experience was more seasoned.

The two entered a close-range struggle in the blink of an eye.

Shi Lei's fists and kicks came like a violent storm, every strike pressing the attack, all of them fearless, life-risking advancing moves from the Crouching Dragon Fist.

Yet Wang Han stood firm as a rock. He responded with entangling techniques, his body like a swimming dragon as he repeatedly evaded Shi Lei's savage strikes in the narrowest slivers of space.

Whenever he counterattacked, his fingers and claws were vicious, always targeting joints and tendons, forcing Shi Lei into a desperate defense and plunging him into danger after danger.

"Is that all you can do?"

After knocking aside another of Shi Lei's heavy punches, Wang Han sneered, and his fist technique suddenly changed.

A Dragon-Splitting Drill darted out, angling with extreme trickery toward the opening beneath Shi Lei's ribs.

"Ha!"

Unable to change moves in time, Shi Lei neither dodged nor evaded. He chose to take the blow head-on, using Dragon Chant to drive the Crouching Force throughout his body as his left arm swept back toward Wang Han's neck, trading injury for injury!

"Idiot!"

Wang Han sneered. The clawing hand he had extended changed direction midway, turning from claw to palm as it lightly pressed Shi Lei's side. Borrowing the force of Shi Lei's sweeping kick, his body twisted away strangely, slipping aside like a loach. At the same time, his elbow struck like a hammer toward Shi Lei's lower back, which had stiffened slightly from overexertion.

Wang Han had not held back on that strike either. If it landed solidly, Shi Lei's spine would shatter in an instant.

Puff!

With a dull impact, Fatty Fang had actually intervened in time. His fan-sized palm shoved Wang Han several steps away.

"Enough!"

Fatty Fang shouted sternly, "The victor has already been decided, yet you still strike with such vicious intent. Wang Han, what are you trying to do?"

Wang Han remained unhurried. He even pulled out an innocent smile.

"Senior Brother Fang, please judge fairly. Everyone saw it—Shi Lei was fighting for his life with every move. Wasn't I provoked by him?"

"Provoked?"

Fatty Fang narrowed his eyes, his voice turning colder.

"You are clearly stronger than him by a whole level. You control your moves and strength with ease. You were simply playing with him! He could provoke you? Do you take me for blind?"

Wang Han's smile faded somewhat, and he stopped arguing.

In his view, as long as he obtained the Blood Refining Powder today, condensing Blood Qi was practically nailed to the board. Once he entered the Middle Academy, there would be plenty of time to settle accounts with Fatty Fang.

"Still not enough... I clearly already..."

Shi Lei slumped where he was, looking as though his soul had left his body as he muttered to himself.

At the sight, the disciples led by Ding Qiang and Li He all crowded around Wang Han. For a time, flattering words flowed like a tide, and fawning smiles never ceased.

Only Chen Cheng silently passed through the crowd, helped Shi Lei up, and supported him to the side.

"Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge Wang Han?"

Suppressing his anger, Fatty Fang asked the question as if merely going through the motions.

When he saw Qiao Qiao about to step forward, he hurriedly gave her a look, telling the little girl to stand down.

He knew as clearly as a mirror that although Qiao Qiao had progressed at astonishing speed, she had not trained long enough. There was still a gap between her and Wang Han, so there was no need for her to step out now and block Wang Han's path.

Making an enemy for nothing would be detrimental to Qiao Qiao's long-term development.

"Senior Brother Fang, that question was unnecessary... In the entire academy, what blind fool would dare go against Senior Brother Wang?"

Ding Qiang narrowed his eyes and swept another sidelong glance across the crowd.

"Who? Let me see—who else is there?"

The surrounding disciples all forced smiles and shook their heads. None dared make a sound.

"You cannot put it that way. Our Longshan Lower Academy has crouching tigers and hidden dragons. Perhaps someone has a fire in their heart that refuses to admit defeat, someone who wants to take a gamble like Lei did!"

Wang Han lifted his chin slightly and spoke in a teasing tone.

"I should leave people a shred of hope, a chance, shouldn't I? What if some junior brother is hiding his true abilities and wants to give everyone a surprise?"

Damn it!

That bastard had gotten to show off again!

Shi Lei felt a surge of wicked fire rush straight to his head. He smashed his fist viciously into the rough wall bricks beside him, splitting the skin over his knuckles, yet he paid it no mind.

He recalled that night... Ma Zhao lying in a pool of blood with his eyes unable to close in death, and Wang Han—the culprit—later wearing that look of detached indifference, even faint satisfaction...

Shi Lei's brows twisted like river gorges, and his back teeth ground together with cracking sounds.

Just as he was about to smash the wall several more times to vent his anger, he suddenly realized someone beside him was missing.

He jerked his head up.

That familiar figure was calmly stepping into the open space at the center of the training yard, where everyone's eyes had gathered.

"Chen Cheng?"

Wang Han paused, a trace of amusement appearing in his gaze.

Chen Cheng still wore that calm expression that revealed neither joy nor anger. "Senior Brother Fang, I want to challenge Senior Brother Wang."

"You?"

The fat on Fatty Fang's face trembled. He hurriedly shook his head and signaled with his eyes. This kid had always been so steady—why was he acting foolishly now?

Shi Lei rushed over. "A-Cheng! You're no match for him. There's no need for you to..."

"Lei, what are you getting so worked up for?"

Wang Han cut him off with a sneer.

"When Junior Brother Chen and I spar, we will naturally stop at the proper point. We're just having some fun. It's not as though anyone will lose a piece of flesh."

Shi Lei was choked speechless. Looking at Chen Cheng's composed profile, he knew he could not persuade him. With a heavy sigh, he stepped aside.

Not far away, Qiao Qiao nervously clenched her small fists. Her bright black eyes stared fixedly at Chen Cheng, while her lips pressed together until they turned white.

She wanted to step forward, but Fatty Fang's stern gaze nailed her in place.

Ding Qiang, Li He, and the others were initially stunned. Then they exchanged mocking looks and let out undisguised snickers.

"An idiot who doesn't know his own limits..."

"Maybe seeing Shi Lei lose so pathetically made his head go hot?"

"..."

The disciples around the edge of the yard whispered among themselves, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, doubt, and delight in another's misfortune.

Seeing Chen Cheng's steady gaze and sensing no sign of impulsiveness, Fatty Fang was doubtful but did not stop him again.

"Since that is the case... the Minor Competition will continue. Chen Cheng will challenge Wang Han!"