Two Million Credited, and I Broke Through on the Spot

Lu Chen landed on the arena without making a sound.

The noise in the gymnasium gradually died down.

Martial Sect.

Those two words alone were enough to silence everyone present.

Li Zhengyang weighed the Dragon-Gallbladder Golden Spear in his hand.

It had once felt perfectly balanced.

But facing Lu Chen now, it suddenly felt too light.

So light that it felt unreliable.

Lu Chen stood at the other end of the arena, making no unnecessary movements. When he spoke, he was equally direct.

"Commander Xiao told me not to beat you to death."

Li Zhengyang nodded.

"Then you're a pretty nice guy."

"I'll try."

"Try not to beat me to death?"

"Try to make you last a little longer."

Li Zhengyang raised the spear tip.

"I take back what I said. You're not very good at conversation."

Lu Chen did not respond.

The next instant, he moved.

There was no opening stance.

He appeared directly in front of Li Zhengyang.

Too fast.

So fast that many in the stands only saw Lu Chen vanish from the arena. By the time they blinked, he was already standing half a step before Li Zhengyang.

One palm.

Straight at the chest.

Li Zhengyang raised his spear horizontally to block.

Bang!

The Dragon-Gallbladder Golden Spear shuddered violently.

Li Zhengyang slid back more than ten meters, his shoes scraping two black trails across the arena.

Both arms went numb.

His chest felt tight.

From that one blow, he understood.

Lu Chen had held back.

But holding back did not mean it felt good.

A Martial Sect's Astral Qi was not something a Martial Spirit could withstand head-on.

The moment he steadied himself, Lu Chen had already followed.

A second palm.

Li Zhengyang did not take it head-on. He used Cloud-Shocking Steps, his body shifting diagonally back.

But Lu Chen's palm strike changed direction with him.

Astral Energy Release.

It did not need to make contact.

Nor did it travel in a straight line.

It spread out in advance, sealing three possible footholds beneath Li Zhengyang's feet.

Li Zhengyang's eyelid twitched.

"Something's off."

With his retreat cut off, he could only thrust his spear.

Mountain-Splitting Spear Art, Collapse Formula.

The Dragon-Gallbladder Golden Spear shot out, its tip stabbing toward Lu Chen's wrist.

Lu Chen flipped his wrist, his palm pressing down on the spear shaft.

The spear's trajectory veered aside.

Then a whip kick slammed into Li Zhengyang's lower abdomen.

Bang!

Li Zhengyang flew backward and crashed into the runic barrier at the edge of the arena.

The barrier flashed white and bounced him back into the arena.

He landed on one knee, the taste of blood rising in his throat.

He swallowed it back.

He could not spit it out.

Throwing up blood would make him look bad.

More importantly, it would affect the price.

In the stands, Hu Dahai shot to his feet.

"Stop! What the hell are you still fighting for?!"

People from Fortress No. 13 were shouting themselves hoarse as well.

"Concede, Zhengyang! Stop forcing yourself!"

"Come back! A Martial Sect isn't something a person can fight!"

"Forget the money! Your life matters more!"

Others stomped their feet in panic.

"Can someone drag him down already?!"

The First Fortress side had grown much quieter.

No one laughed.

Because Li Zhengyang's last spear strike had touched Lu Chen's sleeve.

A Martial Spirit against a Martial Sect.

Being able to touch him at all was already absurd.

Lin Zhenshan sat in the front row, his fingers tapping against the armrest.

He said nothing.

Lin Feng sat beside him, his right hand still in a splint, his expression uglier than before.

"Dad, Lu Chen isn't really going to lose, is he?"

Lin Zhenshan turned to glance at him.

"Did you get your brain put in a splint too?"

Lin Feng shut up.

On the arena.

Li Zhengyang stood up and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

Lu Chen stopped ten meters away.

"Still fighting?"

"Yes."

"You have no chance of winning."

"I have money."

Lu Chen paused for half a beat.

"What?"

Li Zhengyang did not explain.

He glanced at the large screen beside the arena.

Battle time: forty-one seconds.

Ten minutes.

He was still far from it.

Last ten minutes, and he would get another million.

But the problem was that forget ten minutes—if he took three more of Lu Chen's palm strikes, he would be lying on the ground waiting for the medics to carry him away.

Lu Chen had not gone for the kill.

But a Martial Sect was still a Martial Sect.

Every palm strike was suppressing his Blood Qi.

His bones had not broken, but his Blood Qi was already in chaos.

Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated.

Ding.

The referee beside the arena frowned.

"Communication is prohibited during a match!"

Li Zhengyang held his spear in one hand and pulled out his phone with the other, not even looking at the referee.

The referee opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

There was nothing he could do.

This match was no longer an ordinary final.

A Ninth-Rank Martial Spirit facing a Martial Sect head-on was already an unfair fight. The referee could overlook a few details.

The phone screen lit up.

[Credited: 2,000,000 yuan]

Transfer note: Advance payment of the Military District Selection Tournament base prize.

Li Zhengyang looked at that string of zeros, and his chest no longer felt tight. His waist no longer hurt either.

Xiao Ding was a good man.

Two million.

Twenty thousand Blood-Qi Value.

Enough.

He opened the system directly.

Recharge.

Amount: 2,000,000.

Confirm.

[Recharge successful!]

[Recharge amount: 2,000,000]

[Blood-Qi Value obtained: +20,000]

[Current Blood-Qi Value: 92,628]

[Blood-Qi Value has reached the breakthrough threshold]

[Realm breakthrough: Ninth-Rank Martial Spirit → Second-Rank Martial Sect!]

The runes across the arena lit up at the same time.

Li Zhengyang's Blood Qi burst outward, only for him to force it back into his body.

It was not leakage.

It was reorganization.

His bones, meridians, and flesh were washed over again and again.

Many spectators in the front row felt their chests tighten and hurriedly circulated their Blood Qi to offset it.

Several low-rank Martial Warriors failed to steady themselves and nearly slid from their seats.

"Holy shit, he broke through?"

"So he wasn't checking a message when he took out his phone?"

"He was. It looked like a notification that the prize money had arrived."

"So he broke through with money?"

"Don't ask. Poverty limits cultivation."

On the main viewing platform.

Xiao Ding had been leaning against his chair, but now he leaned forward, one hand pressing down on the armrest.

"He broke through?"

Beside him, Chief of Staff Zhang Yuan froze with his teacup halfway to his mouth, spilling half the tea.

"A breakthrough in the middle of battle? He took out his phone just to confirm the transfer?"

Xiao Ding said nothing.

A moment later, he smiled.

"Old Zhang."

"Yeah?"

"If I'd transferred him five million earlier, do you think he could've pinned Lu Chen to the ground on the spot?"

Zhang Yuan stared at the arena and struggled for a long time before managing a sentence.

The source contains 67 paragraphs, not 65. I can preserve every paragraph boundary, or reduce it to 65 by merging/omitting two paragraphs, but not both.