Crippling Galie Ao

Seeing the two of them about to leave, the fake smile on Galie Ao's face finally could no longer hold. It was like a painted mask being torn from his face—gentleness, politeness, and propriety.

All of it fell away in an instant, revealing the real, twisted face beneath.

He stepped forward and stretched out an arm to block their path.

"Xiao Yan."

His voice was no longer gentle or cordial. It had changed into another tone—arrogant, condescending, and tinged with charity.

"You piece of trash, I gave you face, so don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit."

When the word "trash" left his mouth, it carried a practiced fluency, as though he had rehearsed those two words countless times, waiting for the day he could say them to Xiao Yan's face.

His chin lifted slightly, and his gaze openly passed over Xiao Yan before landing on Xiao Xun'er behind him. It swept from her face to her waist, then from her waist to her shapely long legs wrapped in tight trousers. The greed and desire in his eyes were utterly undisguised, like a starving wolf staring at a tender piece of meat.

Xiao Xun'er's brows furrowed even deeper, and the fingers holding Xiao Yan's hand tightened further.

Xiao Yan's expression turned cold.

It was not the gathering calm before an outburst, nor the silence before anger. It was a more fundamental chill, one that seeped out from his very bones.

His eyes changed from calm to icy, like a pool of water freezing over in an instant. Its surface was smooth as a mirror, while undercurrents churned beneath.

"Young Master Galie, what do you mean by this?"

His voice was unhurried, yet every word seemed to burst from between his lips like shards of ice, loud enough to make a sound when they struck the ground.

Galie Ao was completely unaware. He was immersed in his own sense of superiority, immersed in the pleasure brought by that word, "trash."

He stared at Xiao Yan, excitement gleaming in his eyes like a beast that had caught the scent of prey, trembling faintly all over in anticipation.

"Xiao Yan, I heard that not only has your strength recovered, but you also defeated the Misty Cloud Sect Master's disciple."

He deliberately spoke slowly, enunciating every word, his tone filled with obvious mockery and disbelief.

"I, Galie Ao, am not particularly talented, but I have also reached the Dou Practitioner level. I would like to test Young Master Xiao Yan's strength—whether it has truly recovered, or whether this is merely a lie fabricated by the Xiao Clan to fool people."

Of course he did not believe it.

When the news reached the Galie Clan yesterday, he had been teasing a maid in the rear courtyard.

A servant rushed in to report that Xiao Yan, the Xiao Clan's trash, had not only recovered his strength but had also defeated Nalan Yanran, the personal disciple of the Misty Cloud Sect Master.

He had laughed on the spot, laughing so wildly that he bent over backward, leaving the maid completely stunned.

He believed the news was false. One hundred percent false.

The reason was simple—after being publicly rejected in marriage by a woman, the Xiao Clan had already lost all its face.

If it had been him, Galie Ao, publicly rejected by his fiancée, he would definitely have suppressed the matter completely and made sure no one ever learned of it.

Yet the Xiao Clan had done the opposite. Not only had they failed to suppress it, they had even released such absurd news—his strength had recovered?

He had defeated the personal disciple of the Misty Cloud Sect Master? What else could that be but an attempt to cover up the truth?

That was why he had dared to block their way.

First, because of Xiao Xun'er.

He had coveted Xiao Xun'er for far more than a day or two.

That face, that figure, that lotus-like, aloof temperament—after playing with so many women in Wutan City, he had never found a single one who could compare to her.

Whenever he saw Xiao Xun'er from afar on the street, he felt as though someone had gripped his heart, leaving him unable to breathe.

He dreamed of getting Xiao Xun'er into his hands. He dreamed of seeing that cold, distant girl serving him beneath his body.

Second, because of Xiao Yan.

Ever since the day nine-year-old Xiao Yan had become a One-Star Dou Fighter and his name had resounded throughout Wutan City, a thorn had lodged itself in Galie Ao's heart.

Why? Why could Xiao Yan receive so much praise? Why could Xiao Yan be called a "genius," while he, Galie Ao, could only be called "the Galie Clan's young master"?

Those envious looks, those admiring tones, those discussions of how "the Xiao Clan has produced a true dragon"—why was that person not him?

He hated Xiao Yan. He had hated him ever since the year Xiao Yan became a Dou Fighter.

After Xiao Yan was crippled, Galie Ao had been delighted for several days.

He had even spent money to hire people to spread rumors throughout Wutan City, claiming that Xiao Yan's rapid advancement had relied entirely on sinister methods, and that he had now been punished by heaven, which was why his Dou Qi had fallen back to the third stage.

During those days, he practically strutted when he walked, as though Xiao Yan's downfall was the finest proof of Galie Ao's own talent.

Now that the Xiao Clan had released news that Xiao Yan had recovered, of course he had to test it personally.

If Xiao Yan had truly recovered, he was not afraid.

He was the biological son of Galie Bi, the Galie Clan Head, and the Galie Clan's young clan leader.

The Xiao Clan, Galie Clan, and Oba Clan stood as three powers in balance.

He was certain Xiao Yan would not dare touch him—if he did, it would mean the Xiao Clan had taken the initiative to start a war, and the Xiao Clan could not bear those consequences.

If Xiao Yan had not recovered, then publicly exposing the Xiao Clan's lie today would not only make the Xiao Clan lose all face, but also bring Galie Ao great fame.

He would gain twice from a single move. Why not?

Galie Ao had been so blinded by his own calculations that he had never considered another possibility—if the news was true, if Xiao Yan had really recovered his strength, if he had dared to reject Nalan Yanran and offend the Misty Cloud Sect, then what was Galie Ao, the young clan leader of the Galie Clan, worth?

"Fine."

Xiao Yan's voice was as calm as a lake. He showed no anger, no hesitation, not even the slightest unnecessary expression.

Xiao Yan and Galie Ao, one ahead and one behind, arrived at the arena in Wutan City that was specifically used for contests.

The arena stood in a plaza at the city center. The broad, level ground was paved with bluestone, and thick iron chains marked out its boundaries.

Mercenaries and cultivators often sparred there on ordinary days, while the onlookers were always happy to enjoy a spectacle.

Today's spectacle was especially grand.

The news spread wildly through every street and alley of Wutan City as though it had grown wings—Galie Ao, the Galie Clan's young clan leader, was challenging Xiao Yan of the Xiao Clan.

In less than the time it took to burn an incense stick, the area around the arena was packed with people.

There were armored mercenaries, merchants carrying abacuses, nobles dressed in brocade and fine silk, and ragged beggars as well.

Heads crowded together, shoulders pressed against shoulders, with layer upon layer of people surrounding the arena so tightly that not even water could pass through.

"Xiao Yan? The Xiao Clan's trash?"

"Isn't that right? I heard a disciple of the Misty Cloud Sect even came to reject him in marriage yesterday."

"Doesn't that make him even more useless? Why would Galie Ao challenge him? There'd be no honor in winning."

"Your news is way too outdated. I heard Xiao Yan recovered his strength yesterday and even defeated the personal disciple of the Misty Cloud Sect Master!"

"Really? Why don't I believe that?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it? Once Young Master Galie tests him, we'll know right away whether it's true or false."

The discussions, arguments, and speculation buzzed like a swarm of bees by their ears.

Everyone's gaze was focused on the young man atop the arena—curious, doubtful, expectant, gleeful at another's misfortune. Every sort of expression could be seen.

Only one area around the arena stood empty, with no one daring to approach.

A young girl stood there.

She stood quietly at the edge of the crowd, her pale green dress swaying gently in the breeze, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.

She watched Xiao Yan on the arena with focused, earnest eyes, as though the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with her, as though the entire world held only the figure of that young man on the stage.

The aura she gave off was as cool and distant as a lotus, keeping others a thousand miles away. Combined with her breathtakingly beautiful, unadorned face, it made everyone who wished to approach instinctively stop in their tracks.

On the arena.

Galie Ao stood opposite Xiao Yan with his arms folded across his chest, his chin raised high, and a confident smile on his lips.

He had rehearsed the next scene countless times in his mind—the referee would give the signal, he would burst forward and cleanly knock Xiao Yan down, then, under Xiao Xun'er's shocked gaze, he would elegantly straighten his robes and tell her, "Miss Xun'er, someone like him is not worthy of your affection."

Then Miss Xun'er would be won over by his heroic bearing and throw herself into his arms.

The script was so beautiful that even Galie Ao himself believed it.

Clang—

The referee struck the bronze gong in his hand, and its crisp sound echoed through the plaza.

Galie Ao moved.

He used the high-level Yellow-tier movement technique, Clear Wind Step. The moment his toes touched the ground, his entire body swept toward Xiao Yan like a fallen leaf carried by the wind, light and swift.

Wind-attributed Dou Qi flowed beneath his feet. Every landing was like stepping on cotton, soundless and fast as the wind.

This was the Galie Clan's signature movement technique. He had trained in it for three years. Though he could not yet be said to have mastered it, he was already outstanding among his peers.

Within a few breaths, he had closed to within five steps of Xiao Yan.

Xiao Yan did not move.

He stood where he was, feet planted casually, hands hanging naturally at his sides. He showed neither an offensive nor defensive stance. His expression was calm as water, even carrying a trace of boredom, like an adult watching a three-year-old charge at him while waving a wooden sword.

The crowd below began to stir.

"What is going on? Why isn't Xiao Yan moving?"

"Could he be scared stupid?"

"I told you, didn't I? This thing about his strength recovering has to be fake!"

Galie Ao took Xiao Yan's stillness as fear. The corners of his mouth nearly split to his ears as Dou Qi began to gather wildly around his right fist.

Green wind-attributed Dou Qi spun rapidly over his fist, forming a tiny vortex that emitted a sharp hum.

The vortex spun faster and denser, condensing into a faint green ball of light above his fist, radiating a fierce, cutting aura.

A low-level Mystic-tier Dou Technique, Storm Strike.

If this punch landed solidly, let alone a person, even a piece of bluestone would be blasted through.

Galie Ao was full of confidence in this punch—he had once used it to snap a tree as thick as a bowl with a single blow.

"Die!"

When he shouted those words, the excitement in his voice was no longer concealed.

He could already see Xiao Yan flying backward, see Xiao Xun'er's shocked expression, see himself standing in the middle of the arena and receiving the crowd's cheers.

The fist wind came howling in.

Then—Xiao Yan moved.

There was no Dou Qi fluctuation, no buildup, no warning whatsoever. He merely turned slightly and stepped out with his right foot, and his entire body vanished from where he stood.

It was not teleportation. He was simply too fast.

So fast that more than half the spectators at ringside did not even see what had happened. They only saw Galie Ao's fist strike empty air with a dull explosion, and then—Xiao Yan appeared behind Galie Ao.

His steps were as light as a cat's, and the sound of his landing was so faint it could be ignored.

The body of a Dou Master displayed its crushing advantage in that moment—without Dou Qi enhancement, without the aid of a Dou Technique, sheer, naked physical power was enough to make him so fast that even a Dou Practitioner could not catch him.

Galie Ao's punch missed, and momentum sent his body stumbling a step forward.

His pupils suddenly contracted, and the smile on his face froze as though someone had pressed pause.

Xiao Yan's voice came from behind him, casual and carrying a trace of laziness.

"Too slow."

The moment those three words fell, Xiao Yan's right fist had already slammed into Galie Ao's back.

There was no Dou Qi and no Dou Technique, just a simple punch—Xiao Yan's body, comparable to that of a One-Star Dou Master, meant that even a casual strike was more than enough to make a One-Star Dou Fighter suffer.

"Argh!"

Galie Ao let out a scream.

It was sharp and brief, like a rooster being strangled, forcibly squeezed out of his throat.

That punch sent him staggering forward several steps, and he nearly fell to the ground.

A burst of intense pain shot through his back, as though he had been struck by an iron hammer, leaving his entire spine numb.

Before he could regain his footing, the second punch arrived.

His left shoulder blade.

"Ah—"

Another scream. Galie Ao's left arm instantly lost all strength and hung limply at his side.

His face changed from white to red, then from red to purple. Veins bulged one by one across his forehead as though they were about to burst through his skin.

The third punch. His right shoulder blade.

The fourth punch. The outside of his left thigh.

The fifth punch. His right calf.

Xiao Yan's fists rained down upon Galie Ao. Every punch avoided vital points without fail, yet landed precisely on the most vulnerable and sensitive areas of the human body.

Those places would not be fatal, nor would they even cause permanent injury, but the pain was several times greater than in ordinary areas.

With every punch, Galie Ao's body convulsed like a fish thrown ashore, struggling desperately with nowhere to escape.

Galie Ao wanted to cry, "I surrender."

He opened his mouth, and the word "I" had already burst from his throat, but Xiao Yan's fist was faster than his voice.

A punch smashed into Galie Ao's mouth, forcibly knocking the word "surrender" back down his throat.

"Pff—"

Galie Ao spat out a mouthful of bloody foam mixed with several white objects.

Those white objects spun a few times through the air before landing on the ground and bouncing with several clinks. They were his teeth.

At least three or four had been broken off at the roots, lying on the cold bluestone ground with threads of blood still clinging to them.

His lips swelled in an instant, hanging from his face like two charred sausages, red turning purple and purple turning black.

His upper and lower lips could not close, exposing the bloody mess of gums inside. The sight alone made people's teeth ache.

He wanted to speak, but could not. He wanted to surrender, but could not shout it out. Tears and snot mixed together, smearing his entire face.

In all his twenty-one years, Galie Ao had never been so miserable.

The audience below had fallen completely silent.

No one spoke. No one discussed. No one even dared breathe too loudly.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the scene on the arena as though watching a one-sided slaughter.

No, it could not even be called a slaughter—at least in a slaughter, there was resistance. Galie Ao did not even have the chance to resist.

Xiao Yan stopped punching.

He looked down at Galie Ao, his gaze cold as the north wind of winter.

"With this little strength, you dared oppose me?"

His voice was not loud, yet it entered the ears of every person present with perfect clarity.

"You think you're worthy?"

As the final word fell, Xiao Yan's right fist carried a hidden force and struck precisely at Galie Ao's dantian.

Galie Ao's eyes abruptly widened.

In that instant, Xiao Yan's cold face was reflected in his pupils. Then he felt the Dou Zhi Qi vortex within him, struck by the force of Xiao Yan's punch, crack from the center like a mirror smashed by an iron hammer—shattering and collapsing.

Dou Zhi Qi poured frantically from his ruptured dantian like floodwaters bursting through a dam, impossible to draw back.

One-Star Dou Fighter.

Nine-Stage Dou Zhi Qi.

Eight-Stage.

Seven-Stage.

Galie Ao could feel the Dou Zhi Qi within him draining away at a terrifying speed. Every second, he grew weaker; every second, it slipped farther from him.

That feeling was more terrifying than any physical pain—he watched the cultivation he had painstakingly built over more than a decade fall grain by grain like sand through an hourglass, utterly beyond his grasp.

The pain in his eyes turned to fear, and the fear turned to despair.

"No... no..."

His swollen lips let out an incoherent wail. At last, tears spilled from his eyes and ran down his swollen cheeks.

Xiao Yan withdrew his fist and took a step back, watching coldly as Galie Ao collapsed onto the ground like a heap of mud.

His limbs twitched, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and tears and snot smeared across his face.

His gaze had already gone vacant, his pupils unfocused as they stared blankly at the glaring sky above, like a corpse that had yet to draw its final breath.

The Dou Zhi Qi within him was still draining away.

Six-Stage.

Five-Stage.

Four-Stage.

Only when the Dou Zhi Qi within his body had completely vanished did that gradually fading sensation finally cease.

Galie Ao's eyes could no longer hold on. They slammed shut, and amid extreme pain and despair, he completely passed out.