Hostility

"Junior Brother Zhao, I have to remind you of something. The Martial Examination is important, but if you face an opponent you can't match, you should concede as soon as things start looking bad. Remember, don't fight head-on at all costs. You're still young, and you'll have more chances. If you blindly try to prove yourself and someone ruthless seriously injures you, perhaps even harming your future path in the Martial Dao, the loss won't be worth the gain," Wei Yuan said.

"Don't worry, Senior Brother Wei. I know what matters." Zhao Feng nodded. His master had said the same thing yesterday. Wei Yuan was probably worried that youthful pride would get the better of him.

"Junior Brother Zhao, see you in the top thirty-two." Wei Yuan bumped fists with him to bolster his own spirits. In truth, he had a little ulterior motive: Junior Brother Zhao had always been lucky. If some of that luck rubbed off on him, perhaps he really could make it into the top thirty-two.

Zhao Feng went over to the Eighth Arena. A Bright Strength disciple from the Huo Family Martial Arts School had also been assigned here, and the two chatted.

Suddenly, he sensed someone watching him. Turning his head, he saw a young man in brocade behind him withdraw his gaze and resume talking to someone else.

Having lived two lives, with his souls superimposed, Zhao Feng had always possessed keener perception than others. He distinctly sensed a faint hostility from this man.

Strange. We've never met. Why would he be hostile toward me?

"Brother Xue, I didn't expect to be assigned to the same arena as you. If we meet, please go easy on me," a Martial Master beside the brocade-clad young man said with an ingratiating smile.

His surname is Xue? Zhao Feng frowned slightly. He instantly recalled that during yesterday's Archery and Horsemanship Trial, he seemed to have seen his Second Senior Brother, Wei Yuan, greet and chat with this man. But Wei Yuan was an amiable fellow who knew plenty of people, so he hadn't paid it much attention.

Wei Yuan had previously mentioned that the Eldest Young Master of the Xue Family, Xue Xiangling's older brother, was a Hidden Force Martial Master. Could this be him?

The strongest contender in the Eighth Arena-the so-called seeded contestant-was Wu Peng of the Wind-Shaking Martial Arts School, whom Huo Shan had mentioned yesterday. He was at the hidden force peak. As long as Zhao Feng didn't run into him, he should be confident of holding his own against the others.

Meanwhile, the early winter wind carried a slight chill, stirring up dust across the Drill Grounds. Hundreds of candidates, along with examiners, spectators, and others, waited anxiously for the Arena Trial to begin.

As time passed, even the strengthening wind could not drown out the tense breathing of hundreds of people or dispel the solemn, heavy atmosphere.

At last, the examiners finalized the order of the matches at each arena, and the gong sounded three times.

Soon, the first round of matches began across the arenas.

At the Eighth Arena, an official supervising the examination walked to the center of the platform and announced the contestants for the first match of the first round.

"Jiang Chuan of the Dragon Tiger Martial Arts School versus Wen Sanyong," the examiner said.

If candidates came from an established lineage, sect, martial arts school, or escort agency, their affiliation would be announced. Those called by name alone were independent martial artists, practitioners unaffiliated with any organization. Some had also returned from other regions. These independent martial artists had their identities and household registrations checked repeatedly to ensure they were not members of the Bandit Gang, river pirates, followers of the Evil Faction, or the like.

Zhao Feng had heard Jiang Chuan's name before. He was a recognized Hidden Force expert from the Dragon Tiger Martial Arts School. By contrast, Zhao Feng had no idea how skilled Wen Sanyong was.

Wen Sanyong wore a short black martial outfit. Though he appeared calm after stepping onto the platform, Zhao Feng could still see panic and apprehension in his eyes. Jiang Chuan, by contrast, walked up with his hands behind his back and steady steps, displaying genuine composure.

At the examiner's command, the match began. Jiang Chuan assumed an opening stance without attacking. Wen Sanyong clenched his fists, his fingers turning white as indecision crossed his face. Seconds ticked by. Finally, he could no longer contain himself. "Please instruct me!" He lunged forward and drove a fist straight at Jiang Chuan. His broad, sweeping movements suggested a Northern Boxing Style.

The moment Wen Sanyong threw his punch, Zhao Feng understood his earlier apprehension and indecision. Though his punch was fierce, its power was clearly only bright strength. Even at the peak, he knew he was no match for an established Hidden Force expert. Although he had prepared himself mentally, he still hoped to distinguish himself and hold out a little longer, attracting the attention of wealthy patrons and powerful lineages.

Zhao Feng also hoped he would last longer, giving him a chance to observe Jiang Chuan's abilities. He had buried himself in training at the martial arts school and knew little about other Hidden Force experts outside it. He could also tell that Wen Sanyong had a follow-up prepared: his left fist, held back for the moment. His right fist was a feint.

As Wen Sanyong's fist bore down on him, Jiang Chuan remained unhurried. His left hand darted out, coiling around Wen Sanyong's wrist like a nimble serpent, while his right hand sliced diagonally along the bend of his opponent's arm. This was the Binding Tiger Form of the Dragon Tiger Palm, a move that concealed hardness within softness. Borrowing his opponent's force, he tugged, and his diagonally cutting right palm broke through Wen Sanyong's follow-up left punch.

"Excellent!" The knowledgeable spectators below the platform burst into cheers.

What a fine move, defending and attacking in one stroke. Zhao Feng nodded. Jiang Chuan had also seen through his opponent's feint, but he hadn't followed the course his opponent had laid out. Instead, whether the attack was real or false, he struck through both.

By now, Wen Sanyong's footing had become unstable, and he was pulled forward. Jiang Chuan's palm then pressed slowly toward him. Panicking, Wen Sanyong drew back his elbow to block. With a muffled thud, he felt a powerful surge of inner force flow from his opponent's palm, shattering his own force before penetrating his body.

He staggered back several steps, his face deathly pale and blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you for showing mercy." He lowered his head and cupped his fists, his expression bleak. Though the bright strength peak and hidden force were separated by only a thin line, the gap was like a vast chasm. Apart from a few dazzling geniuses who might challenge someone of a higher level, most people could never cross it. That chasm extended to their ability to read a fight. He had used feints and misdirection, yet they had still been broken with ease.

Jiang Chuan nodded in acknowledgment without speaking.

The examiner came forward and announced, "Jiang Chuan of the Dragon Tiger Martial Arts School wins."

Zhao Feng frowned slightly. Jiang Chuan was unquestionably skilled. His eye was sharp, his timing practiced, and his attacks decisive. His force also carried entangling force, allowing him to defend and attack in a single stroke. Zhao Feng committed several characteristics of his moves to memory. Unfortunately, the victory had come too quickly for him to see much. It was a little disappointing.

He glanced toward the neighboring Seventh Arena. His Third Senior Brother, Wang Yu, had also easily defeated a Bright Strength Martial Master in the previous match.

Zhao Feng soon turned his attention back and continued watching the other Martial Masters compete in his arena. Even when both contestants were Bright Strength Martial Masters, he observed carefully, absorbing whatever useful experience he could.

"Third match of the first round: Xue Jun of the Xue Family versus Yue Shengdong of the Might-Reaching Escort Agency!"

After the examiner's announcement, the young man in brocade from earlier stepped onto the platform. So he really is from the Xue Family. He must be Xue Xiangling's older brother. Zhao Feng was puzzled.

Xue Xiangling was the one who wasn't interested in me and rejected me. Why is Xue Jun hostile toward me?

Xue Jun rested his feet lightly on the ground, his arms hanging naturally at his sides, though his wrists trembled faintly. This is... Zhao Feng frowned in thought. He had a vague idea of his opponent's boxing style.

Opposite him, Yue Shengdong of the Might-Reaching Escort Agency held his clenched fists beside his waist. The knotted muscles of his arms rippled slightly, projecting an imposing air of strength capable of smashing through immense weight.

"Begin!" Yue Shengdong attacked first, sweeping his fist outward with a fierce rush of wind. The punch howled through the air, heavy and powerful. If it landed solidly, it could probably split a wooden post outright. His movements also belonged to a Northern Boxing Style.

Despite his ferocious momentum, his strength was still clearly at the bright strength peak.

Xue Jun shifted his feet in a semicircle, his body swaying as he slipped straight around to the side. Before Yue Shengdong could withdraw his attack, Xue Jun's arms suddenly lashed out like long whips. With a flick of his wrist, he clenched his fingers into a fist and struck straight at Yue Shengdong's shoulder well acupoint. The wind of his strike carried a sharp, devious force, moving too fast for the eye to follow its path.

Crack! In the blink of an eye, the punch had struck Yue Shengdong's shoulder well acupoint. Hidden force penetrated his body, instantly leaving his entire right arm numb and aching. The next moment, Xue Jun's knife-hand had already stopped at his throat.

"Young Master Xue, thank you for showing mercy!" Yue Shengdong's face flushed red as he cupped his fists in thanks.

Xue Jun nodded with a smile. As he left the platform, his eyes flicked almost imperceptibly toward Zhao Feng.