Martial Contest

"Brother Wang? What happened?"

The moment he entered the county yamen, Cheng Heng saw Wang Ming looking utterly dejected. Sensing that something was wrong, he spoke up to ask.

Wang Ming raised his drooping head and looked at Cheng Heng's worried face. In the end, he gave a bitter smile.

He then told Cheng Heng everything in full detail—the conflict between the Wang and Yang Families, as well as the life-and-death martial contest five days from now.

Cheng Heng remained silent for a long while after hearing this.

At last, he patted Wang Ming's dejected shoulder.

"Brother Wang, I'll help your Wang Family in this contest!"

Cheng Heng had thought it over for a long time. With his current Hidden Force strength, coupled with the astonishing defensive power granted by the Vajra Art, he should not lose to Wu Zhenyue, this veteran Hidden Force martial artist.

Moreover, ever since he had only possessed Bright Force, Wang Ming had continually supported him.

Now that the Wang Family was in trouble, considering his friendship with Wang Ming, he had to step in and help.

"Brother Cheng..."

Wang Ming stared at Cheng Heng in disbelief, countless tangled emotions surging through his heart!

Back then, he had merely seen that this young man possessed ordinary talent and, out of kindness, lent him a hand. Who could have imagined that Cheng Heng would be so loyal and righteous, willing to help when the Wang Family stood at the brink of disaster!

It was easy to add flowers to brocade, but hard to send charcoal in the snow!

Wang Ming's expression then turned solemn as he said,

"Brother Cheng, Wu Zhenyue is a veteran Hidden Force expert. You must act within your limits."

"I'll tell you everything I know about his martial arts. That way, you'll have a few more chances of winning when you face him!"

Wang Ming then told Cheng Heng every bit of intelligence he had on Wu Zhenyue, the "Longwind Iron Palm."

Cheng Heng committed every word to memory. Only by knowing oneself and knowing one's enemy could one fight a hundred battles without defeat!

In the blink of an eye, five days had passed.

Cheng Heng sat cross-legged in the Wang Family's carriage with his eyes closed, calmly resting his mind.

Across from him sat Wang Ming, his face full of unease.

Looking at Cheng Heng's tranquil expression, Wang Ming sighed inwardly. Brother Cheng truly is no ordinary man. At the threshold of life and death, he can still remain so calm. It is truly admirable!

One who held thunder in his chest yet wore the face of a placid lake could be made a great general!

The carriage galloped onward, and after roughly the time it took to drink a cup of tea, it arrived at the site of today's contest: Jingshan.

"Master Wang, Master Cheng, Jingshan is here."

Cheng Heng slowly opened his eyes inside the carriage and stepped down together with Wang Ming.

The moment he got down, he saw that a fighting platform had already been erected in an open space ahead. On either side sat rows of wealthy landlords dressed in lavish clothing.

These people were all prominent figures in Gaoyang County. Today, they had come to witness the dragon-and-tiger struggle between the Wang and Yang Families and see which side would emerge victorious!

"Cheng Heng, look over there. Those are the Yang Family's people. That black-faced middle-aged man is Wu Zhenyue. You must be extremely careful when fighting him!"

Wang Ming pointed lightly, his expression grave.

Cheng Heng's gaze sharpened as he looked in the direction of the finger.

At the Yang Family's side, seated in the place of honor, was a plump, pale middle-aged man with a fair complexion and harsh features. He was Yang Qingyun, head of the Yang Family!

Beside Yang Qingyun sat a tall, black-faced middle-aged man dressed in short black martial attire. He had to be Wu Zhenyue!

When Wu Zhenyue saw Cheng Heng's gaze sweep over, he looked back without yielding an inch.

Their gazes clashed in midair, and invisible currents of force began to fill the air.

Yang Qingyun studied Cheng Heng carefully for a moment before saying in a murderous tone,

"Master Wu, don't hold back today. You must drive the Wang Family out of Gaoyang County!"

Though his voice was mild, it carried an unquestionable command.

Wu Zhenyue smiled faintly, then said dismissively,

"Rest assured, Family Head Yang. If Zhan Yun were the one taking the stage today, I might feel somewhat wary. But this brat came from an Outer City martial school and has practiced martial arts for barely over a year. He is absolutely no match for me."

"Family Head Yang, just wait for good news!"

His words were thick with contempt.

Cheng Heng took his seat with Wang Ming in the Wang Family's section. After waiting quietly for half an incense stick's time, he heard a gong ring out—"Dong!"

This life-and-death contest had officially begun!

Wu Zhenyue seized the initiative. With a light leap, he was the first to arrive at the center of the platform, standing there like a black iron tower, terrifying to behold!

Cheng Heng remained composed as he slowly stepped onto the platform, showing not the slightest fear!

"Where did the Wang Family find this martial artist? Why have I never heard of him?"

"I heard he came from an Outer City martial school and practices Tiger-Subduing Fist!"

"From the Outer City? The Wang Family has really fallen so low that they found some kid from the Outer City."

"He doesn't even look twenty yet. How could he possibly be Wu Zhenyue's match? The Wang Family has made a terrible move!"

Seeing the two take the stage, the crowd below began discussing them one after another.

Wang Duchuan sat above the platform, already wracked with anxiety. Even with his Skill-Transforming Force cultivation, his heart was in turmoil, and he could neither sit nor stand at ease!

The Wang Family's fate now rested entirely on Cheng Heng's shoulders.

Back then, Wang Ming had insisted on supporting this kid. Counting the time, it had only been a little over a year, hadn't it?

The many Wang Family disciples beside him also wore uncertain expressions, with no confidence at all.

Could this unknown kid truly be Wu Zhenyue's opponent?

Wu Zhenyue looked at the calm Cheng Heng before him, a cold smile curling across his lips.

"Kid, let me advise you: fists and feet have no eyes. Once you step onto this platform, life and death are left to fate. It's not too late to admit defeat now. Otherwise, you won't get another chance later!"

Wu Zhenyue was supremely confident in this contest. He was in the prime of life and only one step away from Hidden Force Great Completion.

In all of Gaoyang County, aside from the few Skill-Transforming Force experts, he did not believe anyone could pose a threat to him.

Hearing this, Cheng Heng said evenly, "Those who roam the martial world have long cast life and death aside!"

Wu Zhenyue was slightly taken aback. The contempt in his eyes receded somewhat, and he nodded in agreement at Cheng Heng's words.

"The contest begins!"

With a clear shout from below the platform, the entire arena—including every spectator—fell utterly silent.

A breeze stirred the leaves. The two men's currents of force instantly tangled together, while the killing intent in the air seemed to condense into something tangible!

Wu Zhenyue struck first. His steps made the platform tremble faintly as he raised his heavy arms, both palms carrying howling gusts straight toward Cheng Heng's chest.

Wu Zhenyue had practiced Iron Sand Palm for many years. His art was tyrannical and fierce, and he stood only a step away from Hidden Force Great Completion. If one of his palms landed solidly, flesh and bone would be shattered in an instant.

Cheng Heng did not meet his palm force head-on. His Tiger-Subduing Stance rooted deeply beneath his feet, his waist and hips turned lightly, and his body shifted sideways by barely half a foot, evading that heavy, powerful strike.

"Why are you cowering and dodging?"

Wu Zhenyue roared as a succession of palms pressed down in waves. His left and right palms struck one after another, every move sealing off Cheng Heng's surroundings. Each sweep of his iron palms carried the dull clang of metal crashing against metal.