Chapter 212

203. Chapter 203: Fist and Sword

The battle between Yang Yi and Li Yi had officially begun; no one intervened, for this was a fight beyond their capacity to interfere—even Zhao Lingfu, a Spiritual Perception cultivator, could not stop it, let alone others. Though Lin Yue wanted to help, she was blocked by Qin Qing, powerless to act, forced to watch helplessly as the two fought to the death.

Yet Li Yi's displayed power surpassed everyone's expectations.

A Spiritual Insight cultivator had bested Yang Yi, a Spiritual Perception cultivator—if this spread, it would shake the entire cultivation circle of Tianchang City.

BOOM!

Suddenly, another clash of power erupted, this time releasing far greater residual force than before. The terrifying energy and fist aura spilled outward, turning the surrounding ground into a bombed wasteland—the hard asphalt cracked instantly, jagged fissures spreading like spiderwebs from the center of the two combatants.

The gale that followed stung the skin like blades.

This was no longer a fight between Spiritual Perception cultivators; both seemed to have crossed a threshold, shattered a boundary, and exceeded normal limits.

Soon.

Their fierce exchange briefly decided superiority.

A tall figure flew backward, flipped midair several times, then landed steadily—but residual force still drove him sliding backward, retreating over ten meters before finally stopping.

"Puff!"

Yang Yi's mouth turned sweet; he spat out a mouthful of blood. One arm was covered in bloody gashes, his palm deformed—as if fractured—with a clear fist imprint branded into it.

That imprint felt like a slap across his face, burning with pain.

His physical condition was superior to Li Yi's, yet he was the one wounded.

"What?"

Qin Qing froze at this outcome.

Yang Yi had been pushed back again—and wounded, bleeding?

"Yang Yi, I taught you fist techniques. Do you really think you can surpass me in fist arts?"

Li Yi stood firm, fists clenched, his body wreathed in raging aura, like a awakened tiger, terrifying to behold.

"Such a fierce fist."

Yang Yi wiped blood from his lips: "Fist arts and otherworldly cultivation methods belong to the same system—so your fists are so powerful. You've truly turned the tide now, become a real threat. I should've listened to Uncle Yang Ye—back then, I should've seized an opportunity to eliminate you. Now you're a major danger."

At this moment, he felt regret—and understood his uncle Yang Ye's actions.

Either don't act at all, or act to the extreme.

The vagrant Wei Bin was right—he hadn't gone far enough.

But it's not too late to correct this mistake now.

"Though my fist arts aren't as refined as yours, I know more than just fists. In life-or-death combat, I won't hold back. Better be careful—you don't want to die too quickly."

Yang Yi slowly rose, energy gathering around him. His undamaged right arm began to glow.

"Li Yi, don't let him form the sword!" Lin Yue's eyes narrowed, shouting immediately.

But before she finished speaking, Li Yi vanished from his spot—he wouldn't give Yang Yi time to adjust.

Wind reversed violently; his towering frame surged forward, pupils vertical and glowing, killing intent boiling, crimson fist aura erupting—another lethal strike launched instantly.

Yang Yi's face darkened; warned by his Spiritual Perception, he hastily retreated.

Li Yi's fists were too brutal.

And they came one after another, relentless, granting no respite. Fighting such a man—even if equally matched—left you gasping under the crushing pressure of his fist momentum.

At this moment, he abandoned direct confrontation, relying on his Spiritual Perception advantage to detect danger early and evade preemptively.

Air shattered, fist aura scattered.

This punch missed.

After dodging, Yang Yi stood still—on his arm, a sword forged from his own energy appeared before all eyes: brilliant, razor-sharp, its mere movement slicing the air, leaving behind countless sword trails. If struck by such a blade, not even a cultivator's body would survive—it would sever even extraordinary creatures in two.

With this indestructible sword, Yang Yi could dominate Tianchang City's cultivation circle, feared by all.

"Li Yi is finished—Yang Yi's sword has emerged." Qin Qing exhaled slightly, regaining her earlier confidence.

Once Yang Yi's sword appeared, he held absolute advantage.

Unless Li Yi could outlast Yang Yi's channeling limit until the sword vanished—but that was impossible. She'd watched their earlier clash: though Li Yi's power was strong, it wasn't overwhelming enough to crush Yang Yi outright. Otherwise, those two punches would've decided life or death.

But Lin Yue, hearing Qin Qing's words, erupted in fury: "Qin Qing, worry about yourself first."

She could bear it no longer—she threw a punch straight at Qin Qing.

Qin Qing sensed it with her Spiritual Perception, her expression shifting, instantly dodging: "Lin Yue, you—"

"What? Do you think we're that close? Since it's come to this, let's settle this too. After I defeat you, I'll go aid Li Yi. I can't stand here watching him fight alone while you hold me back." Lin Yue could no longer tolerate Qin Qing's actions—she made her choice.

Thus, Lin Yue struck without hesitation.

Qin Qing's expression changed; she understood Lin Yue's urgency—but she wouldn't let her go aid Li Yi. If they joined forces, something unpredictable might happen.

"I'm sorry, Lin Yue."

Qin Qing drew a deep breath, her green vertical pupils locking onto Lin Yue, then moved with blinding speed to intercept.

These two Spiritual Perception experts clashed—fists and feet colliding, each strike exploding with fist energy.

Yang Yi glanced toward them—he knew Qin Qing and Lin Yue wouldn't decide victory soon; the outcome of this battle rested on his side.

"Hah—"

Yet Li Yi suddenly burst into loud laughter, laced with mockery and the exhilaration of clearing the gloom.

"What are you laughing at?" Yang Yi's pupils glowed, striding forward, his sword leaving sword trails in the air—its mere aura triggered Spiritual Perception alarms.

"I'm laughing at you—only the third punch and you dare not meet it? You're even more cowardly than I imagined."

Li Yi laughed on.

Yang Yi's mindset was pitiful—far worse than warriors from the Four Seas and Eight Zones. Those warriors, even knowing they'd lose, still dared to meet their opponent's fist head-on. Especially my master, Zhao Ge—he never retreated a step from his enemies, even when outmatched.

Because once you retreat, your momentum is lost.

During my journey through the Four Seas and Eight Zones, what impressed me most was that warrior's spirit.

Sometimes those warriors were foolish enough to challenge sniper rifles—but their courage earned my respect.

Yang Yi's face darkened—he thought he'd merely exploited his strengths, yet Li Yi called him a coward?

"You think I fear you? Fine. Let's see how many times you can block my sword."

His voice ended in a roar; he surged forward like a rampaging extraordinary beast, lunging at Li Yi, his energy-formed sword slashing down—aiming to kill instantly, granting no respite.

Li Yi's Spiritual Insight screamed warnings.

Yet he felt no fear—he prepared, activated his channeling technique. Energy within his body merged with fist power, blood and qi intertwining, forming a crimson glow that hovered inches from his skin, coiling around his arm, astonishingly mystical.

"Come."

Li Yi roared, striking again—this fist met the deadly blade.

The razor-sharp sword struck as if hitting a thick shield—its usual ability to cleave through anything failed. It stuck fast against Li Yi's fist, halted at his skin, unable to advance further.

Clash of energies, friction of blood-fist aura.

Piercing, grating sounds erupted—but none drowned out Yang Yi's shocked cry.

"What the hell? How is this possible?"

This Li Yi actually blocked his sword—the same blade that could sever extraordinary creatures—now stopped?

"Nothing's impossible. Your sword isn't that impressive."

Li Yi roared—but even as he spoke, his fist throbbed painfully. Yang Yi's sword was drilling deeper into his flesh, as if trying to sever his entire arm.

If his fist momentum faltered, he was finished.

No holding back.

While his momentum still held, he retracted his fist and launched another—this one also powered by channeling and fist aura, forcing Yang Yi into a brutal exchange.

Facing the second punch,

Yang Yi dared not underestimate—he narrowed his eyes, yanked his arm back, and slashed again with his sword.

ZOOM!

Fist aura and sword clashed, spraying energy and aura.

But the sword remained fierce, instantly tearing through Li Yi's energy aura—had his fist power not discharged through his body to halt the blade's advance, he'd have been defeated immediately.

Yet since he'd blocked it, this warrior wouldn't retreat.

He swung again, unleashing the killing technique of Shaking Mountain Fist—energy, fist aura, fist power all exploding.

"Kill!"

Li Yi roared, his warrior nature unleashed, blood blazing through his body, each punch slamming into Yang Yi with peak combat power.

Feeling Li Yi's fist power, Yang Yi's Spiritual Perception instinct screamed: if struck, he'd be crushed—dead or gravely wounded.

To block these punches, Yang Yi was forced into Li Yi's rhythm—he slashed his sword, aiming only to strike Li Yi's fists. If he hit, Li Yi had to retract or lose his arm.

In essence, Li Yi was dancing on a blade's edge—any misstep meant losing his arm.

Yet reality defied expectation: his arm remained intact, and he kept swinging.

Yang Yi's pupils burned red, black hair whipping wildly, his energy-formed sword slashing countless times.

Sometimes Yang Yi tried to sacrifice injury to sever Li Yi's head—but Li Yi's fist pressed forward, repelling the blade. Sometimes Li Yi thrust a killing punch to cripple Yang Yi—but Yang Yi's sword forced him back.

They fought at close range, insane and relentless, enduring each other, seeking openings, refusing to yield an inch.

No—not refusing. They couldn't retreat.

Whoever retreated first would lose for certain.

Li Yi's fists moved like shadows, thunderous punches crashing in succession; Yang Yi's sword slashed continuously, tearing the air into shreds with sword trails.

Surrounding buildings suffered terribly—mere spilled energy and aura easily ripped through steel-reinforced concrete.

At this moment, it wasn't two cultivators fighting—it was two extraordinary beasts locked in mortal combat.