Solved with One Hand

The training ground was deathly silent.

Everyone's gazes were frozen on the unbelievable scene in the middle of the field.

Wang Hu, First Battalion's ace, an Eighth-Rank Martial Sect powerhouse and one of the fiercest men in all of Fortress No. 7, had been forced to his knees with a single hand.

There was no earth-shaking eruption of Blood Qi, no dazzling clash of techniques.

It was like an adult holding down a three-year-old child.

Effortless, casual, without the slightest hint of strain.

Wang Hu's face had turned the color of pig liver. The hand pressing on his shoulder did not feel like a hand at all, but a mountain. He frantically mobilized all his Blood Qi, his muscles bulging and veins popping as he tried to stand.

But that hand did not budge in the slightest.

All his strength vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

"You..." Wang Hu squeezed out the word through gritted teeth. Humiliation and terror made his entire body tremble.

Li Zhengyang looked down at him, his tone as calm as ever.

"When I'm speaking, I don't like being interrupted."

After releasing his hand,

Wang Hu lost the pressure bearing down on him. His body went limp, and he nearly collapsed to the ground.

He braced himself with one hand and gasped for breath. The disdain and provocation in his eyes when he looked at Li Zhengyang had turned into pure fear.

Li Zhengyang turned around and faced the formation again.

"Does anyone else have any objections?"

The several hundred troublesome soldiers were silent as cicadas in winter.

The veteran thugs who had worn malicious expressions moments ago all lowered their heads now, wishing they could shove them into their pants.

Was this a joke?

Subduing Wang Hu in a single move—what kind of strength was that?

Even Battalion Commander Zhao Meng would need dozens of exchanges with Wang Hu before deciding a winner in a spar.

What kind of monster was this newly arrived deputy battalion commander?

Zhao Meng stood to one side, his Adam's apple bobbing. He was glad that he had not chosen to stubbornly resist back at headquarters.

He finally understood why Han Tieshan had shoved this deity onto him.

This was not someone sent to cause him trouble. This was a Mountain-Suppressing Grand Duke sent to him!

"Very good. It seems no one has any objections."

Li Zhengyang swept his gaze over the field, quite satisfied with the result.

He disliked pointless talk, and he disliked playing mind games even more.

In a place like the military, where strength was revered, the simplest and most direct method was often the most effective.

"I am announcing three rules."

"First, my orders must be carried out unconditionally. If you have questions, ask them after carrying them out."

"Second, training will be doubled. Anyone who fails to complete their training quota can go to logistics and receive their punishment."

"Third..." He paused, and his gaze took on a slightly teasing edge. "I'm a rather straightforward person. From now on, whenever we go on missions, I take twenty percent of all spoils. You divide the rest."

Although everyone groaned inwardly at the first two rules, no one dared object.

But the moment the third rule came out, a commotion immediately rose from the formation.

Missions were a gamble with death, and the spoils they earned were bought with their lives. They had always been distributed according to merit, yet this new deputy battalion commander wanted twenty percent with a single sentence?

This was outright robbery!

"What? Objections?" Li Zhengyang's gaze sharpened again.

A soldier standing in the front row gritted his teeth and stepped forward despite himself.

"Reporting to Deputy Battalion Commander! We risk our lives for these things, yet you want to take twenty percent with one word. That's against the rules!"

He was a Sixth-Rank Martial Sect and also a veteran, with a savage scar across his face.

Li Zhengyang looked at him and nodded.

"That makes sense."

Everyone was stunned.

Was he giving in just like that?

"How about this?" Li Zhengyang raised one hand and held up a finger. "I'll give you an opportunity. Your entire battalion can come at me together. As long as one person can touch me once, forget twenty percent—afterward, I won't take a single share of any spoils."

"If you can't touch me..."

He looked around, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

"Then from now on, I take forty percent."

The entire training ground instantly erupted.

"Did I hear that right? He wants to take on our entire battalion alone?"

"He's too arrogant! Who does he think he is, a Martial King?"

"Brothers, he brought this on himself! There are hundreds of us—our spit alone could drown him!"

Even Zhao Meng grew anxious. He hurried to Li Zhengyang's side and lowered his voice. "Deputy Battalion Commander Li, don't be impulsive! These little brats don't know how to hold back. Hundreds of Martial Masters and Martial Sects attacking together could wear even a Ninth-Rank Martial Sect to death!"

"Battalion Commander, do you think they can touch me?" Li Zhengyang asked.

Zhao Meng choked on his words.

He recalled the suffocating pressure in the command center.

Perhaps they really could not touch him.

Within the formation, Wang Hu, who had just been forced to his knees, struggled to his feet. He wiped the cold sweat from his face and roared, "Brothers! He said it himself! Today, let's show him that First Battalion isn't a place where he can run wild!"

"Get him!"

"Together!"

The ferocity of the several hundred men was completely ignited.

They quickly spread out, forming a massive encirclement with Li Zhengyang at its center.

The sounds of weapons being drawn rang out endlessly. Blood Qi surged and Astral Qi rose, making the air across the training ground hot and restless.

"Deputy Battalion Commander Li, then don't blame us for not holding back!" Wang Hu roared as he took the lead and charged forward.

Behind him came dozens of company and platoon commanders, equally fearless of death.

Further behind them were hundreds of soldiers as fierce as wolves and tigers.

Like an ocean tide, the crowd surged in from every direction toward the lone figure at the center.

Zhao Meng instinctively retreated several dozen meters, watching the scene tensely.

He knew this battle would completely determine Li Zhengyang's standing in First Battalion, and even throughout Fortress No. 7.

Li Zhengyang stood at the center of the encirclement without a trace of expression on his face.

He did not even take out his Dragon-Gallbladder Golden Spear.

He merely stood with his hands behind his back, watching the crowd charge in from every direction as though he were watching a swarm of running ants.

When Wang Hu, the first man, came within three meters of him,

he moved.

Cloud-Shocking Steps.

After advancing to Martial King, he had comprehended this movement technique to an entirely new realm.

His figure left behind a faint afterimage where he stood.

In the next instant, he appeared behind Wang Hu.

Wang Hu's punch struck empty air. Before he could react, the back of his neck went numb, and his whole body pitched forward.

Li Zhengyang did not pause in the slightest. Like a ghost weaving through flowers and trees, he moved through the attacks of hundreds of people.

He was too fast.

So fast that every attack fell upon empty space.

So fast that they could only see blurry shadows flickering through the crowd.

Bang!

One soldier was struck beneath the ribs by a finger and crumpled to the ground.

Smack!

Another soldier was lightly tapped on the back of the head. His vision went black, and he passed out.

He did not strike heavily. He merely made every person who rushed at him lose their ability to fight.

Ten minutes.

Across the entire training ground, aside from Zhao Meng at the edge and Li Zhengyang in the center,

not a single person remained standing.

The several hundred elites of First Battalion lay sprawled everywhere, their painful groans rising and falling one after another.

They had not even seen clearly how Li Zhengyang attacked.

Li Zhengyang dusted off his hands, though there was no dust on them, and looked at Zhao Meng's completely petrified face.

"Battalion Commander, trouble yourself to count the numbers."

"From now on, whenever we go on missions, I take forty percent of the spoils."