The Qingstone Ridge Contest

On the day of the match, before dawn had fully broken, the Qian Family's carriage was already waiting at the entrance to Willow Alley.

The coachman's surname was Zhao. He had worked for the Qian Family for more than a decade and thought he had seen it all.

But today, as he sat on the driver's bench gripping the reins, he kept glancing back at the carriage curtain.

In all his years with the Qian Family, he had seen plenty of retainers.

Some had thumped their chests and made promises when they took the money, only to vanish when the time came. Others had talked a fine game, then trembled at the knees when it was their turn to fight.

This young man was different.

Coachman Zhao had heard that Ye An had agreed of his own accord. When the young master went to see him and explained the situation, Ye An's answer had amounted to one word: "Fine!"

It had been that simple.

Coachman Zhao could not help glancing back at the curtain again. It hung perfectly still, and no sound came from within.

He did not know what the young man in the carriage was thinking, but he knew the Qian Family had found itself a good retainer this time.

The carriage passed through South Street and turned onto North Gate Avenue. Its wheels rolled over the stone paving, their rumble carrying far down the morning street.

Azure Stone Ridge Mine lay fifteen li north of Anping County. It was an open-air quarry, where gray-white stone had been piled into small hills. People crowded all around it—at a rough count, no fewer than seventy or eighty.

When Ye An stepped down from the carriage, the crowd parted to make way.

People moved aside, studying him as he passed.

"That's him? The one the Qian Family sent?"

"Ye An. From Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall. Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering."

"Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering? Against Zhao Heng? Isn't that sending him to his death?"

"Who knows? The Qian Family's out of options. Everyone they had who could fight is down."

Whispers rose from every direction. Ye An showed no expression as he walked through the crowd toward the Qian Family.

On the east side of the quarry, Liu Ruyan sat in a grand armchair with Zhao Heng standing behind her. Her pale yellow dress stood out sharply among the dusty piles of stone.

"That's him?"

Zhao Heng folded his arms and looked Ye An up and down.

Zhao Heng was powerfully built, with thick knuckles and heavy calluses on his fingertips.

He had fought in martial contests for more than a decade. What kind of opponent had he not faced? A boy of sixteen or seventeen was hardly worth his notice.

"Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering. Sixteen or seventeen by his bone age. He only broke through recently." Disdain edged Zhao Heng's voice. "A student of Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall. He practices Azure Cloud Finger."

"Azure Cloud Finger?"

"An introductory finger technique from the Vermilion Bird Branch of the Four Symbols Sect."

"It counts as first-rate Martial Arts in Anping County, but in the commandery, it's nothing special."

"Master Zhao, don't disappoint me in this match."

Zhao Heng heard the weight behind Liu Ruyan's words.

He clasped his fists and bowed low.

"Rest assured, my lady. Ye An is just a student from some little Martial Hall, a green youngster fresh out of the gate. I doubt he's even grasped the second level of Azure Cloud Finger. With my Iron Baleful Fist, I can snap a tree as thick as a bowl with one punch like it's child's play. What can he possibly fight me with?!"

Liu Ruyan raised her teacup and blew away the foam. She said nothing.

Zhao Heng straightened and watched the young man walking toward Qian Wanguan in the distance. A sinister smile tugged at his lips. "Just watch, my lady. Within three moves, I'll make him wish he'd never come!"

Qian Wanguan stood on the west side with several Qian Family guards behind him.

Qian Duoduo stood nearby, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes. One look showed he had not slept all night.

"Ye An," Qian Wanguan began cautiously. "Your opponent is at Late-Stage Second Body Tempering and has been fighting matches like this for more than a decade. If you don't feel up to it, you can back out now. I won't hold it against you."

Ye An looked at him calmly. "Master Qian, I wouldn't have come if I meant to back out."

Qian Wanguan's throat bobbed. He clasped his fists solemnly and bent forward in a deep bow. "Young Master Ye, words cannot express my gratitude."

Ye An did not return the salute. He turned and walked toward the center of the grounds.

A long table stood there, holding two sheets of paper, a brush, an inkstone, and ink.

An old man stood beside it. His surname was Meng, and he was a well-known witness in Anping County. He had been a martial artist in his youth, but age had weakened him, and he had retired ten years ago. Since then, he had served as a witness at occasions like this.

Ye An walked over and stood to the left of the table.

Zhao Heng approached from the opposite side and stood to its right.

The old man picked up one of the sheets, unfolded it, and spoke in a ringing voice.

"Today's martial contest is entered into willingly by both sides. The winner receives the mining rights to Azure Stone Ridge Mine; the loser may not contest them again. Life or death is of no consequence, and no injury or death shall be held against either party! Sign and affix your mark, and the agreement takes effect!"

Life or death was of no consequence. No injury or death would be held against either party!

Ye An picked up the brush and wrote his name on the paper.

Zhao Heng gave a snort at the sight, then picked up the brush and signed his name too.

Their signatures sat side by side on the page, one neat and elegant, the other scrawled.

The crowd began murmuring again.

"Ye An? Which Ye An? Never heard of him."

"He's from Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall. He's been at Second Body Tempering for less than two months."

"Less than two months? Zhao Heng's an old hand at Second Body Tempering!"

"The Qian Family's trying to treat a dead horse as if it were still alive!"

"Ah, young people have no idea how high the heavens are or how deep the earth is. He might lose his life in this match."

No one expected Ye An to win.

He was a boy of sixteen or seventeen at Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering, with only a few months of finger-technique practice, facing a veteran who had spent more than a decade fighting at the Body Tempering Realm across Clear River Commandery.

However anyone looked at it, he was walking to his death.

"Begin!"

The old man had barely finished speaking when Zhao Heng vanished from where he stood.

His fist technique was called Iron Baleful Fist, an introductory art of the Iron Fist Sect.

Iron Baleful Fist followed one principle: "Once a fist flies, it does not return."

Zhao Heng had spent more than twenty years honing the technique. Every punch carried a deep, heavy force!

The first strike was called the Crushing Fist!

Its force lay not in the front of the fist, but in its back.

Zhao Heng brought his fist crashing down, aiming at Ye An's collarbone.

The collarbone was one of the body's most fragile bones. If Zhao Heng's punch landed, Ye An's entire upper body would be ruined.

Ye An shifted two inches to the side. The gust from the fist brushed past his shoulder, whipping his clothes with a sharp flutter.

Zhao Heng grinned. "Little Brother Ye, you should just admit defeat. My fists have a mind of their own. If you get hurt, there'll be nowhere to go crying."

His tone was courteous, but his fists showed no sign of stopping. The second punch followed immediately, heading straight for Ye An's temple!

Martial Arts were killing techniques to begin with. His mouth spoke of holding back while his hands reached for a life.

Ye An judged the moment and ducked. The punch swept over his head, taking a few strands of hair with it. Without panicking, he opened some distance and met Zhao Heng's eyes.

"Save those words for children. I'd like to see whether your fists are anywhere near as formidable as your mouth."

As soon as he spoke, the air over the fighting ground drew taut. Zhao Heng's smile froze, and he no longer hid the killing intent in his eyes.

The third strike: Cannon Fist!

The force of this punch gathered in the center of the fist, then shot out like a cannonball—fast and heavy!

Ye An swept his left hand aside and immediately thrust out a finger with his right!

His finger struck Zhao Heng's forearm. Internal Energy from the Qi-Nourishing Formula seeped in through Ye An's fingertip. Zhao Heng's arm went numb for an instant, and his punch veered off course.

Zhao Heng drew back his fist and took another look at Ye An.

He had practiced boxing for decades, yet had never met an opponent like this. Every punch he threw was broken at the most critical moment.

It was time to get serious!

This strike was called the Drilling Fist. It drove forward like a drill and could bore straight through even an iron plate!

And it was aimed directly at Ye An's throat! If it landed, he would die on the spot.

The punch swept past just above Ye An's chin. Making full use of his advantage, Ye An seized his opening and struck with a finger. Zhao Heng's arm went numb, and half the force drained from the Drilling Fist.

Zhao Heng's heart jolted.

"Interesting."

Zhao Heng retreated half a step. He spread his feet, bent his knees slightly, and lowered his center of gravity.

The bones in his clenched fists cracked. His earlier punches had only been probes. Now the real fight began!

Zhao Heng's presence changed in an instant! It pressed in like a wall—the sheer, crushing power of Late-Stage Second Body Tempering!

This was the true killing move of Iron Baleful Fist—the Sweeping Fist!

When the Sweeping Fist struck, it swept aside everything like an iron whip.

Zhao Heng's right fist swept in from the left, aimed at Ye An's side. No bones protected the organs beneath the ribs. If the blow landed, it would rupture his spleen, and he would be beyond saving.

Zhao Heng's fist swept through the air with a dull thud. He stepped forward with his left foot, and as soon as his left fist fell, his right followed.

Using the breathing rhythm of the Qi-Nourishing Formula, Ye An predicted every one of Zhao Heng's movements precisely.

Ye An countered each move with ease.

Sweeping Fist, Sweeping Fist—Sweeping Fist! Three in succession, each from a different angle, each driven by a different force! Every punch cut off room for Ye An to dodge, forcing him farther back.

If Ye An took three more steps back, he would cross the boundary! Crossing the boundary meant losing!

Ye An stopped retreating. He drew on the Qi-Nourishing Formula, and Internal Energy buoyed the soles of his feet. His whole body glided as though across ice.

Zhao Heng's Sweeping Fist passed his waist. The gust caught his clothing and tore away a piece of fabric.

Ye An struck with Azure Cloud Finger.

The armpit was one of the body's most vulnerable points, unprotected by muscle and packed with nerves. If Internal Energy penetrated there, it would directly disrupt Zhao Heng's heart and lungs.

The strike numbed Zhao Heng's entire left arm for an instant, draining most of the force from his Sweeping Fist.

Sweat beaded on Zhao Heng's forehead. No one had ever broken his Sweeping Fist this way. Every strike of Ye An's finger landed at the weakest point of his exertion, halving his power before he could bring it to bear.

What sharp battle instincts. Zhao Heng suppressed his shock.

He took his stance again. The fifth form of Iron Baleful Fist: Mountain Crusher!

Three punches in succession! The first crushed the chest, the second the throat, the third the temple! Each flowed into the next as fast as lightning, each aimed at a vital point! Zhao Heng had practiced Mountain Crusher for ten years. He had used it seven times and won all seven!

The first punch smashed toward Ye An's chest. Its gust swept across his clothes, splitting them open.

The second came swift as the wind, straight for his throat. Its edge swept overhead.

The third was quick as thunder. Aimed at the temple from a tricky angle, it was twice as fast as the first two!

Ye An did not dodge again. He brought his five fingers together and met the blow! With his palm facing the fist, he closed his fingers around the leading edge of Zhao Heng's punch.

He drove the Qi-Nourishing Formula.

Zhao Heng's fist felt as though it had struck a ball of cotton. Its force was completely absorbed.

Ye An's fingers clamped down, then pressed hard.

"Hah!"

Zhao Heng's fist was forced downward. He stumbled back two steps, and five red marks appeared on the back of his hand—Ye An's fingerprints.

For an instant, the entire quarry fell silent.

Then sharp intakes of breath rose one after another.

"Ye An caught Zhao Heng's Mountain Crusher?"

"He didn't catch it—he broke it! He broke Zhao Heng's punch with his palm!"

"Where did this kid come from? He's at Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering, and he broke a killing move from someone at Late-Stage Second Body Tempering?"

Qian Wanguan's eyelid twitched. At the sight, he could barely contain the emotions welling up inside him.

Liu Ruyan leaned against the back of her chair. There was no smile on her face, nor any resentment.

Instead, Ye An's performance had surprised her and stirred her curiosity.

Zhao Heng's eyes changed. There was no contempt in them now, only focus, respect, and pressure!

He had fought for more than a decade, but never had a sixteen-year-old boy made him feel this kind of pressure.

Every muscle in Zhao Heng's body tightened. Veins stood out, even along his neck. His blood surged, and in an instant, his presence climbed to its peak!

Late-Stage Second Body Tempering, at full strength!

Zhao Heng kicked off the ground! He shot forward like a cannonball. This punch had no form and no technique—only raw, naked power! At that moment, Zhao Heng pushed both his speed and strength to the absolute limits his body could bear!

Four punches in succession! Each one came an inch closer to Ye An.

Zhao Heng's fists grew faster and faster, every blow falling like an iron hammer.

Ye An's movements grew faster too, but he was being pushed further onto the defensive.

The Qian Family onlookers had their hearts in their throats.

Sweat ran down Qian Duoduo's forehead and along his nose. His hands were shaking.

"He can't dodge it..." a guard muttered.

"This punch..." Another guard closed his eyes.

Zhao Heng's fist came crashing down.

He put twelve-tenths of his strength into it!

This was not the Crushing Fist, Cannon Fist, Drilling Fist, or Sweeping Fist of Iron Baleful Fist! This was Zhao Heng's own punch—the strongest punch he had forged over more than twenty years of training, the one that had won him more fights than he could count!

"Think you can dodge? Too late!" Zhao Heng roared. "This punch will kill you!"

His fist drove toward Ye An's face.

Ye An turned aside, clearing it by an inch.

The punch grazed past the tip of Ye An's nose, its gust sweeping across his face. By then, he had twisted his body to an almost impossible degree.

His right shoulder sank while his left rose. His entire body was like a bow drawn to its limit!

And his right hand was the arrow about to fly from its string!

Azure Cloud Finger—Mystery Piercer!

It was not a fixed move within Azure Cloud Finger. Ye An had worked it out himself by combining the Qi-Nourishing Formula with Azure Cloud Finger's method of exerting force.

Ye An had spent countless days and nights on it, stabbing through more boards than he could remember before he fully grasped this strike.

That finger was about to strike Zhao Heng's neck.

Pierced through the qi and blood,

Pierced through the meridians.

Pierced through the consciousness!

That finger was like a needle driven into a balloon.

Zhao Heng's body instantly stiffened.

His fist stopped an inch from Ye An's ear. Internal Energy invaded his cervical vertebrae, disrupting the transmission of nerve signals.

Zhao Heng's entire right arm went numb, and his clenched fist slowly loosened.

He opened and closed his mouth, wanting to say something.

But it was already too late. His body began to topple backward.

"Boom!"

Zhao Heng's body slammed into the ground, sending up a cloud of pale gray dust.

Blood spilled from the corners of Zhao Heng's mouth. Lying on the ground, he opened and closed his mouth, uttering a string of indistinct syllables.

"How... how could this be... I've trained for over twenty years... fought for more than ten... I lost... I'm not willing to accept this... not willing..."

His voice grew lower and more indistinct.

The blood at the corners of his mouth flowed faster and faster, running down his chin and soaking into the gray-white stone powder on the ground.

Zhao Heng's eyes began to lose focus.

Liu Ruyan rose from the grand chair.

"Someone! Call a physician! Hurry and call a physician!" Her voice was sharp and frantic. The smile had vanished completely from her face, replaced by just the right amount of anxious concern.

As she shouted, she walked toward Zhao Heng, her skirt trailing across the ground and gathering a layer of dust.

"Master Zhao! Master Zhao, hold on! The physician will be here soon!"

But everyone present knew that Zhao Heng's injury was beyond saving.

That finger to his neck would have been useless even if the greatest physician in the world had come.

The entire venue fell silent.

Everyone was looking at the youth standing in the center of the arena.

Ye An stood there, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in waves, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Qian Duoduo was the first to recover. He dropped onto the ground with a plop and gasped for breath, as though he had been the one fighting the match.

The next moment, Qian Duoduo abruptly leaped to his feet, his voice even changing pitch.

"Won? Ye An won? Ye An won!"

Qian Wanguan stood where he was, his lips trembling twice. For a long while, he could not say a single word.

He looked at Ye An, then at Zhao Heng lying motionless on the ground.

His eyes reddened. The force pent up in his heart surged to its peak at this moment!

The pressure bearing down on the Qian Family these past few days had left its patriarch unable to sleep day or night.

At this moment, his tightly strung nerves finally began to relax.

The Qian Family's guards exchanged glances, then erupted into cheers all at once.

"We won!"

"Master Ye won!"

"An Early Stage of Secondary Body Tempering defeated a Late-Stage Second Body Tempering expert!"

By contrast, the people supporting Zhao Heng had turned ashen, remaining silent.

The elderly referee walked to the center of the arena and spoke in a booming voice.

"Ye An, victory!"

The voice echoed across the mine.

Some cheered, some fell silent, and some left.

Ye An turned around and walked toward Qian Wanguan.

His figure swayed and staggered, looking like a tree trunk about to be blown down by the wind. Of course, Ye An was merely putting on an act, as were his heavy breaths and everything else earlier.

Ye An stopped in front of Qian Wanguan and clasped his fists.

"Patriarch Qian, I have fulfilled my duty."

Qian Wanguan looked at Ye An's sincere yet resolute gaze.

There was no pride or excitement in those eyes.

It was as though he had not just fought a life-and-death battle, but had merely spent an hour practicing his skills.

Qian Wanguan clasped his fists and bent at a ninety-degree angle.

"Master Ye, the Qian Family will remember this favor."

His voice was somewhat hoarse.

"For the rest of our lives."