Chapter 35: Stepping Forward

"You"

Zhou Shulin’s eyes turned bloodshot as he stomped forward a step.

Liang He quickly grabbed Zhou Shulin: “Brother Zhou, Master Li isn’t here.”

At that moment, a disciple of the Heaven and Earth Alliance happened to pass by, saw the infighting within the Tianyi Hall, and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall to watch the spectacle.

Han Peng noticed more people gathering, and with Li Rui’s reputation hanging over them, he felt a flicker of unease—but he was a thug by trade, and he had his own methods.

“With Deputy Hallmaster Ying’s backing, nothing serious will happen.”

Han Peng gritted his teeth.

Though he didn’t want to escalate things, he couldn’t let this end so casually—otherwise, dealing with Li Rui later would become even harder.

Han Peng exchanged a glance with Yang San.

Yang San stepped forward, sneering at Liang He: “Kid, I heard you’re good at fighting. Let your senior brother teach you a few moves, how about it?”

He deliberately sought to provoke Liang He.

The Heaven and Earth Alliance encouraged internal disciples to spar and improve their strength—this was the only officially sanctioned way for disciples to fight each other.

Yang San had seen plenty of young fools like Liang He—easily provoked, unable to hold their temper—but to his surprise, Liang He didn’t even look at him; he grabbed Zhou Shulin and turned to leave.

Before leaving, his lips moved.

Though no sound came out, any Yu national could tell it was the classic national treasure.

“Asshole.”

Yang San’s face burned with shame—he, a seasoned veteran, had lost face in front of a greenhorn.

He lunged forward with a grab: “Brother Liang, someone reported you stole a sect technique—you must be searched.”

Liang He’s eyes turned cold.

This bastard, seeing taunting failed, now resorted to slandering—these thugs loved nothing more than dirty, underhanded tricks.

If Yang San searched him, he’d be framed—he caught a glimpse of a figure on the second floor of Tianyi Hall.

It was Ying Liu.

If Yang San framed him, Ying Liu could easily make the accusation stick; then even if Li Rui wanted to help, he’d be powerless under the Alliance’s rules and lack of evidence.

Liang He gritted his teeth: “You have no right to search me. Get the hell out of my way.”

Yang San’s smile widened—he was disappointed Liang He still hadn’t drawn his sword.

If Liang He lost his temper and drew his blade, Yang San would have grounds to use weapons, then “accidentally” sever his tendons and render him useless.

As long as no one died, the Discipline Hall was under Deputy Captain Zhao’s control—nothing would go wrong.

“Die.”

A cruel smile curled on Yang San’s lips.

He grabbed Liang He’s shoulders, shoved one foot between his legs—in an instant, a classic folk wrestling hold was locked in.

This move was perfect for two men who loved to brawl.

Liang He reacted just as fast—Li Rui’s words flashed in his mind.

“A martial artist must carry three parts ferocity.”

His eyes flashed with ice—he shot his right hand upward, straight into Yang San’s groin!

“AHHHH!!”

A piercing scream echoed through the Tianyi Hall courtyard; the onlookers shuddered, each feeling a sudden chill between their legs.

Yang San collapsed in agony, clutching himself, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The sensation of shattered testicles was unbearable.

He forced himself to stand, eyes blazing as he glared at Liang He.

He never imagined a clean-cut division disciple would be so dishonorable.

Liang He, meanwhile, wore an expression of delight.

“Master Li was right—fighting’s goal is to win. Any method is fine as long as it wins!”

“Groin grabs and eye pokes are deadlier than swordplay. If you can win, kill them. If you can’t, poison or ambush them.”

As he was summarizing his lessons—

Yang San, enraged beyond reason: “Han Peng, help me!”

He charged again.

Han Peng had no wish to join—he knew sparring and mobbing were two different things; if other deputy captains found out, they might be expelled from the Heaven and Earth Alliance.

But Yang San had lost control, and now Han Peng was trapped.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and joined in.

Soon, the four were locked in a chaotic brawl.

Though Liang He’s strength had surged recently, Zhou Shulin was no match for Han Peng and Yang San, who had spent years in the martial underworld—quickly, it became two-on-one, and Liang He was beaten black and blue.

Tempers flared on both sides.

Though Han Peng and Yang San dominated the fight, Liang He’s moves were disgustingly low—always targeting the lower body.

Yang San was beyond furious.

Liang He was a madman—he’d fixated on his groin, taking punches just to land a kick there.

“So practice really does breed truth.”

Liang He’s eyes grew brighter.

What was the ultimate truth of brawling?

It was to pick one target and beat him until he couldn’t get out of bed for a month—make him fear you so thoroughly that he’d never dare trouble you again.

Zhou Shulin saw Liang He’s intent.

He struggled to his feet and kicked Yang San again, screaming:

“Fuck you!”

Yang San rolled across the ground several times before finally stopping.

His face twisted, veins bulging.

He’d never taken such a beating even while enforcing order—Han Peng looked at him with pity.

“Fuck you! Die!”

Clang!

Yang San drew his waist saber and swung it at Liang He’s head.

Han Peng tried to stop him—but it was too late.

Just as the blade neared Liang He’s skull by a foot, a pebble flew out and struck the blade’s edge.

Yang San felt a massive force jolt his wrist.

The swing halted; his body staggered back a step.

He stared at his blade in disbelief—had he almost lost his grip?!

At that moment—

An old man walked forward slowly.

“Drawing a blade on a fellow disciple? By Alliance rules, he deserves three cuts.”

Li Rui stood with his hands behind his back, a faint smile on his lips.

He looked utterly in control.

Yang San’s face paled—he realized, now that he’d calmed down, how stupid he’d been.

He turned desperately toward the second floor of Tianyi Hall.

Soon, Ying Liu descended the stairs.

His expression was grim—he hadn’t expected the tables to turn so suddenly; now Li Rui was turning against him.

Ying Liu even suspected Li Rui had orchestrated this entire scene—he just couldn’t prove it.

“Master Li, this was my personal recklessness—I beg your forgiveness.”

He believed his tone was humble enough.

After all, he’d sent Han Peng and Yang San to curb Li Rui’s influence—by apologizing like this, he was conceding defeat; Li Rui wouldn’t risk a feud over two subordinates.

But he hadn’t expected—

Li Rui shook his head:

“I think Deputy Hallmaster Ying misunderstands. It’s not about whether I forgive you—it’s that Yang San broke the rules, and insulted the Captain and Deputy Captain Zhao.”

“He must be severely punished!”

(End of Chapter)