Semifinal · The Wall of the Vajra Ape

His opponent in the semifinal was the only one of the final four who wore no academy uniform.

Nan Feng stood at the edge of the arena and looked across. The man leaned against the railing on the other side, his eyes closed.

He was around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, of medium build and slightly thin, dressed in a gray martial outfit that had been washed until it faded, its cuffs frayed. Short hair sat atop his head, and dark stubble covered his chin.

He looked like an independent cultivator who had just crawled out of some remote backwater, yet he stood with a steady posture.

His Soul Power was restrained and abundant.

Level forty-four, Soul Ancestor. His Martial Soul was the Vajra Ape.

Nan Feng had seen him fight from the sidelines in the previous rounds.

The Vajra Ape Martial Soul was known for pure strength, with no fancy Soul Skills or added attributes. In the quarterfinal, he had shattered his opponent's defensive Soul Skill with one punch and blasted him out of the arena in three moves.

He didn't probe his opponents; every punch carried his full strength.

The referee announced the start.

The man opened his eyes and fixed his dark brown gaze on Nan Feng.

"You fought well in your last two matches," he said, his voice low and raspy. "At level thirty-five, you beat a level thirty-eight opponent from Spirit Hall. You've got some ability."

"But your Tower Suppression can't suppress my strength, and your Tower Realm can't swallow my Soul Power. My Soul Power density is far higher than yours. You can't swallow it."

Nan Feng didn't answer. He drew the short staff from behind his waist and held it across his body, shifting his right foot back half a step.

The crack in the third level's door was still widening, and the output of the Power of Creation was a shade more sluggish than when he had fought Wang Chong. His Soul Power was level thirty-five.

The man moved. He was much slower than Wang Chong, and each step seemed to pour the weight of his entire body into the ground.

He charged up to Nan Feng and drove out his right fist. There was no sheen of Soul Power on it; it was just an ordinary fist, its wind thudding through the air.

Nan Feng activated Tower Suppression. A cyan halo spread from beneath his feet, covering five paces.

The man's fist plunged into the halo, its speed suppressed for a beat. The punch didn't stop, however, and continued toward Nan Feng's chest.

Nan Feng turned aside to avoid the direct blow and swung his short staff across, smashing its tip into the man's ribs.

The recoil slammed back along the staff as though it had struck a solid iron anvil. The muscles around the man's ribs were so dense that the staff left only a white mark.

The man swept an elbow back at him. Nan Feng ducked, and the wind from the elbow brushed over his head, blowing the loose strands on his forehead backward.

The man didn't follow up.

"Your staff is hard enough, but it doesn't have enough force behind it. With level thirty-five Soul Power and the claw strength of your External Soul Bone, you can just barely break through my first layer of defense."

"But my Vajra Ape Martial Soul has three layers of defense. Break one, and there are still two left."

Nan Feng put the short staff back behind his waist and switched to an iron hammer. The hammer was heavier, and its force was more concentrated.

He charged again. The man met him with a punch, his fist a tenth faster than before.

Nan Feng activated Tower Realm · Creation. The cyan halo doubled in size, and the warm-colored Power of Creation circulated within it.

The man's fist plunged into the Tower Realm without slowing much. The circulation of Soul Power within him was hindered by twenty percent, and the Soul Power on his fist grew a layer thinner.

Nan Feng slipped in sideways and brought the hammer down on the side of the man's knee.

The hammerhead struck tough skin with a dull thud. The man's knee bent, but he didn't kneel.

He grabbed the hammer's handle and yanked hard. Nan Feng stumbled a step, and a fist grazed his left shoulder, sending him flying. He flipped halfway over in the air and crashed onto the arena floor.

A student dressed in blue stood up in the front row and gripped the railing.

Nan Feng climbed to his feet. The old wound on his left shoulder had been jarred open again, and blood seeped from beneath the scab. He moved his left arm; the bones weren't broken.

The man stood five paces away, watching him with dark brown eyes.

"Your Tower Realm can thin out my Soul Power, but it can't cut through my three layers of defense. My Soul Power density is two grades higher than yours. Your Power of Creation can't convert it as fast as I release it."

"If we keep fighting, you'll only have a harder and harder time."

Nan Feng swallowed the blood in his mouth. The man was right. Nan Feng had used up forty percent of his Soul Power, while the man had used less than twenty percent. Nan Feng couldn't win a drawn-out fight.

Nan Feng didn't retreat.

He pushed the Compression Method to its limit, doubling the circulation of his Soul Power. He compressed the Soul Power in his dantian to the extreme, then released it.

The Tower Realm's cyan halo brightened a shade. The man's Soul Power consumption jumped from twenty percent to thirty-five percent. He frowned and grew serious for the first time.

Nan Feng charged.

He alternated between the iron hammer and Bone Spike, while Tower Suppression and the Tower Realm maintained their suppression. Claw shadows from the External Soul Bone cut in from different angles, searching for gaps in the defenses.

The man blocked and counterattacked punch after punch, breaking apart Nan Feng's offensive.

The two exchanged nearly fifty moves in the arena. Nan Feng had used seventy percent of his Soul Power, and the man had used fifty percent.

The old wound on Nan Feng's left shoulder had split open again, his right arm was numb from the recoil, and his knee ached fiercely from a knock. Several bloody marks had been smashed into the man's ribs and the outside of his knee joint.

On the fifty-first move, the man caught an opening in Nan Feng's defense.

The crack in the Tower Realm's door had widened to its limit, and the output of the Power of Creation fluctuated for an instant. The man caught it and threw his right fist, filled to the brim with Soul Power. For the first time, a layer of earthy yellow light formed over it.

That was the sign of the Vajra Ape Martial Soul erupting at full power.

His fist smashed into the iron hammer Nan Feng held across his body. The handle couldn't withstand the blow and snapped in two with a crack.

Nan Feng's defense was broken. A second punch slammed into his chest and sent him flying backward into the railing, breaking two wooden crossbars.

He fell onto the arena floor, a great mouthful of blood surging into his mouth. His chest felt so tight he couldn't catch his breath.

The referee's whistle sounded.

The man won.

The student in blue in the front row stood up and applauded.

Nan Feng lay on the arena floor, looking up at the gray-white sky. Every breath he drew carried the taste of blood.

He had lost. With a nine-level gap in Soul Power and the Vajra Ape's high defense, he couldn't break through.

A hand reached over from the side. The man held out his right hand, his dark brown eyes as calm as ever.

"Your Tower Realm is very strong. At level thirty-five, you made me use up fifty percent of my Soul Power. Of all the Soul Elders I've met, you're the first."

"If your Power of Creation had been one layer thicker, I would have been the one to lose today."

Nan Feng grasped his hand and stood up. The dull pain in his chest made him unsteady. The man's hand was steady; after pulling him up, he held Nan Feng by the arm for a while before letting go.

"Your Martial Soul has a very high ceiling. Right now, you don't have enough Soul Power. Come find me for another fight after you reach level forty."

The man turned and walked down from the arena. His gray figure flickered twice in the shadows of the passage before disappearing.

As Nan Feng stepped down from the arena, Xiao Wu rushed out of the passage.

She wore a casual pink outfit, her scorpion braid swinging behind her, her expression both anxious and angry.

"Tower Simpleton, are you crazy? Level thirty-five against level forty-four, and you're nine levels below him! Why did you meet him head-on?"

Nan Feng looked at her. Xiao Wu stopped in front of him and reached out to examine his left shoulder, only to pull her hand back.

"I'm fine," Nan Feng said.

"Your mouth's full of blood, and you say you're fine!" Xiao Wu glared at him, then turned toward the stands and shouted, "Lingling! Come take a look at him!"

Ye Lingling walked out of the passage, her plain white dress uncreased in the light.

She came over to Nan Feng, and a pink-and-white begonia halo emerged from her right palm and seeped into the wounds on his left shoulder and chest.

The torn flesh drew together in the halo, and the fine cracks in his bones healed as well.

Ye Lingling sensed his meridians and frowned.

"There are several hidden injuries in the meridian walls. They were caused by the impact when you clashed just now. They aren't serious, but you need to rest for a few days. You can't fight again during that time."

Nan Feng nodded.

Xiao Wu stood beside them with her arms folded. Her scorpion braid had come partly loose, and stray hairs clung to her cheeks. She watched Ye Lingling use the begonia halo.

"Tower Simpleton, you said that theory of that so-called Grandmaster was stolen. You said it in front of so many people. Aren't you afraid he'll come looking for trouble?"

Nan Feng turned his head and glanced at her. Xiao Wu's gaze rested on his face, concern and defiance in her eyes.

"Let him come. What I said was the truth."

Xiao Wu stared at him for two breaths, then snorted and tossed her scorpion braid behind her.

"Fine. If he comes looking for trouble, I'll help you kick him."

With that, she turned and walked toward the passage. Her pink figure flickered twice and disappeared around the corner.

Ye Lingling withdrew the begonia halo and turned to glance at him.

"Tang San should have heard the news in Suotuo City too," Ye Lingling said. "The result of your match today and what you said will reach Shrek Academy tomorrow."

She handed Nan Feng a small bottle of spirit-calming medicine. Nan Feng drank it, and the Soul Power in his dantian began to recover.

He returned the empty bottle to her and looked up at the dusk.

He had lost the semifinal. The crack in the third level's door had widened another sliver.

His Soul Power was level thirty-five, five levels away from level forty.

He packed the broken handle of the iron hammer into his bundle and turned toward the exit.

The deep black glow beneath the Soul Ring in his palm pulsed in the dusk.