Chapter 64: Sparring

In the investigator training base.

Li Yi was bare-chested, holding a heavy sniper rifle, moving swiftly across the training ground, leaping and dodging obstacles, occasionally firing at distant midair targets.

Each shot struck the randomly launched moving targets with perfect accuracy.

After firing dozens of rounds, until the last moving target shattered, Li Yi finally stopped, lowering the rifle.

“Huh!” He exhaled slowly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Excellent—hundred percent hit rate. Only three days have passed, and you’ve already passed firearms training. Your body control is exceptional, your shooting talent astonishing. Want to intensify training? With your potential, a month on this range will make you a legendary marksman.”

At that moment, Yuan Mingjin walked over, clapping and smiling.

Li Yi shook his head. “Forget it. I train fists. Firearms training is enough. I don’t want to waste time on this.”

“What a pity,” Yuan Mingjin sighed. “Skilled shooters like you are rare.”

Over these three days, Li Yi trained relentlessly day and night—not only completing firearms training but mastering every weapon in the display area, no longer the clueless rookie he once was. Yet he had his own training plan and refused to squander time here.

“Can’t help it. I’m an external operations officer—I can’t just request firearms whenever I want. Spending too much time on shooting training would delay my other cultivation progress.” Li Yi shrugged, unconcerned.

Yuan Mingjin asked, “So you plan to enter Zone Two today?”

“Yes. Zone Two’s combat area is where I belong. I’ll refine my killing techniques there.” Li Yi nodded.

“Killing techniques?” Yuan Mingjin frowned. “What’s that?”

Li Yi said directly: “My fists are powerful and fierce, but lack technique, lack form. So I’m studying various combat styles and traditional martial arts, merging them with my own fistwork to forge a unique art—this style isn’t for fighting, it’s for killing. One strike, one death. I call it Killing Art.”

Everyone knew he practiced fist techniques, so there was no need to hide it.

“Impressive,” Yuan Mingjin exclaimed involuntarily.

Once Li Yi perfected this so-called Killing Art, his close-quarters combat ability would be terrifying.

With such a bright prospect, no wonder he was willing to abandon shooting training.

“But this is still just an idea—I’m not sure I can perfect it.” Li Yi said. “Yuan Mingjin, are you still going to keep training shooting?”

Yuan Mingjin smiled. “I’m different from you. I have no talent for close combat, but I’m good at shooting. I’ll stick to this path, keep improving until I become the strongest marksman in Tianchang City.”

“Your shooting skill is already strong. I believe you’ll become this city’s top marksman sooner or later,” Li Yi said seriously.

During his rest periods these past days, he’d watched Yuan Mingjin’s training and deeply admired his shooting ability.

“Haha, thanks for the good wishes. I’ll also wish you success in perfecting your Killing Art—maybe we’ll even team up on missions someday.” Yuan Mingjin said.

“Thank you,” Li Yi replied.

After their conversation, Yuan Mingjin returned to his training.

Li Yi, having passed firearms training, headed straight for Zone Two.

Zone Two had far more trainees; even before approaching, he heard the sounds of combat echoing.

Trainees paired off for live sparring, honing their combat skills through real combat and accelerating their progress.

But such training inevitably led to injuries.

As Li Yi stepped into Zone Two, he heard a sharp crack of breaking bone, followed by a cry of pain—a man was instantly flung across the ground, rolling several times before stopping. Though not life-threatening, his arm hung limp, clearly broken.

The injured cultivator merely glared at the victor, then turned and walked to the nearby medical room.

“Pfft. Thought he was tough. Just average.”

The victor was Lu Yue—tall, muscular, his fists wrapped in white bandages stained with blood, radiating a fierce aura.

“Lu Yue, you went too far. Too brutal. Whoever spars with you ends up with broken arms or legs. Once, you cracked someone’s ribs so badly they pierced their heart—barely survived. Your combat skill is strong, but you need restraint. These are your colleagues, not enemies.”

A forty-something martial arts instructor stood nearby, face grim.

“You said it’s training. If I held back, he’d be dead already,” Lu Yue sneered. “Besides, if sparring isn’t brutal, how’s it effective? Instructor, your traditional martial arts are all flashy kicks and slow punches—useless. Look around—how many still train your style? I don’t know how you even got this job.”

Instructor Li Shudi was furious but had no reply.

In Zone Two, Lu Yue’s combat skill was top-tier—even the instructor couldn’t beat him.

But Lu Yue was too brutal, alienating many cultivators. Many wanted to teach him a lesson, but none could defeat him—each ended up with broken limbs, just like before.

“Anyone else want to spar with me? Come on, I’m waiting.” Lu Yue shouted across the training ground.

Other trainees glanced over involuntarily.

“Lu Yue, don’t get too cocky. Wait seven more days—I’ll come spar with you.” A cultivator replied coldly.

“Good. I’ll wait seven days,” Lu Yue grunted. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“Lu Yue, you want someone to spar with? I’ll do it.”

Another cultivator strode forward—young, around twenty-five, eyes resolute, body muscular, fists also wrapped in bandages—a formidable combatant.

“Chen Hao? You?” Lu Yue’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. I’ve waited a long time. I heard you were a top fighter. Didn’t expect to meet you here. Let’s spar—see who’s stronger.”

“Sparring’s boring. How about a bet?” Chen Hao stepped into the ring, looking up at Lu Yue, who towered half a head over him.

Lu Yue grinned. “Fine. What’s the bet?”

“Two million per match.” Chen Hao said immediately.

“Two million? Done,” Lu Yue replied without hesitation.

“Then what are we waiting for? Start. I’ve got training to get back to—I don’t want to waste time.”

Chen Hao adjusted his breathing, raised his arms, clenched his fists, ready.

“Bold. I like it.” Lu Yue laughed, his massive frame tensing instantly.

The ground trembled.

Lu Yue lunged forward, his fist rising like a cannon, crashing down with crushing force—any normal cultivator hit by that would break several bones.

But Chen Hao was no novice—he blocked with his elbow, then countered instantly, driving a punch straight at Lu Yue’s chest—fast, sharp, precise.

Lu Yue’s eyes narrowed, spinning to defend, barely parrying the blow.

But before he could stabilize, Chen Hao attacked again.

Lu Yue no longer dared to underestimate—he focused on defense, denying Chen Hao openings, then seized chances to strike back.

They clashed, unleashing every technique—power versus skill, reaction versus experience. As Spirit Medium cultivators, they elevated earthly combat to an extraordinary level, leaving spectators dazzled.

“Lu Yue met his match. They’re evenly matched. Who’s this Chen Hao? I’ve never heard of him.” Other trainees began whispering.

“Chen Hao was transferred from outside. Strong close-combat specialist. Famous fighter. He can take on three opponents at his level.” Someone recognized him.

“Who do you think will win?”

“Chen Hao. He has more real combat experience—he’s completed over ten missions and personally killed several criminals. Lu Yue is strong, but he hasn’t faced nearly as much.”

Instructor Li Shudi stood silent, face grim.

Though he hoped Chen Hao would teach Lu Yue a lesson, he could see Chen Hao was outmatched.

Lu Yue’s durability surpassed Chen Hao’s. His punches carried devastating force—any single hit would knock Chen Hao down. And Lu Yue was smart: he defended against every attack, nullifying Chen Hao’s killing-style advantages.

Indeed.

As Li Shudi predicted, the fight shifted after a brief stalemate.

“Bang!”

After prolonged defense, Lu Yue found his opening—his fist, explosive with power, struck Chen Hao’s head.

Chen Hao, who had held slight advantage, collapsed heavily, blood gushing from nose and mouth.

“You lost,” Lu Yue panted, grinning with excitement.

He loved this kind of brutal, flesh-on-flesh combat—the thrill of crushing an opponent—addictive.

“Damn it,” Chen Hao struggled to rise, but dizziness overwhelmed him—he collapsed again.

Clearly, Lu Yue hadn’t held back. That punch had severely injured him—he’d need ten days to recover.

“Chen Hao, you okay?” A trainee rushed over to help him up.

“I’m fine. Won’t die. Outclassed. Let’s go.” Chen Hao spat blood.

As Chen Hao left, Lu Yue called after him: “Don’t forget our bet.”

“Don’t worry. Two million will be transferred,” Chen Hao gritted his teeth.

Lu Yue laughed loudly. “Hey, colleagues! Anyone else want to spar? Come on! If you beat me, I’ll give you Chen Hao’s two million. Don’t be shy!”

Another victory had inflated his ego—he was starting to boast.

But after Chen Hao’s defeat, no one responded. No one dared challenge Lu Yue.

Though Lu Yue seemed arrogant, everyone secretly admitted he was genuinely powerful—his combat skills were exceptional. To spar with him meant high odds of losing.

“Liu Yu, you want to spar with me? Last time you lost. Don’t you want to win back?” Lu Yue suddenly called out by name.

The cultivator named Liu Yu’s face darkened. He didn’t reply—his leg still ached. He wanted to teach Lu Yue a lesson, but lacked the strength.

“Zhang Jikai, I heard you’ve improved a lot lately. Want to spar and test yourself?” Lu Yue grinned again.

Zhang Jikai remained silent, lacking confidence to win.

“Huh? Who are you? You look unfamiliar. New recruit? Come on up—I’ll give you some combat tips. Guaranteed to benefit you for life.” Lu Yue suddenly spotted Li Yi standing nearby, watching.

“Me?” Li Yi pointed at himself.

“Yes, you,” Lu Yue said.

Li Yi replied: “I’d rather not. My fists are heavy. Might cause accidents. No need to spar.”

It was meant as a refusal, but to Lu Yue it sounded like arrogance. He grinned. “New guy’s bold. You say your fists are heavy? Words mean nothing—you’ve got to prove it.”

All eyes turned to Li Yi—as if he were already the next victim.

“Lu Yue, enough! Stop provoking trouble! Everyone here is from the Investigation Bureau. If you keep injuring them, who’ll handle missions? Get out.” Instructor Li Shudi snapped, furious Lu Yue was turning the training ground into chaos.

“Sparring is perfectly legal on the training ground. Instructor, mind your own business,” Lu Yue retorted, refusing to yield. His gaze never left Li Yi.

“New guy, what’s your name?”

“Li Yi.”

“Li Yi? Good. Come here. Let me see how heavy your fists really are.” Lu Yue commanded.

“Don’t take the bait—you’re no match for him. A sparring match might leave you with broken bones, and you’d have to rest for over a week, ruining your training. Just ignore him; this guy may be a foul-mouthed jerk, but he won’t dare lay hands on you. If he really tries to act violently in private, he’ll get kicked out of the Investigation Bureau.”

Instructor Li Shudi pressed his hand on Li Yi’s shoulder, fearing the young man would be provoked into accepting the challenge on impulse.

Lu Yue, seeing Li Yi remain silent, grew bored: “If you’re too scared, fine—I’ll find someone else to spar with. Too bad, though. I won’t get to see your so-called heavy punch.”