Chapter 22: The Way to Victory

Chen Da and Cang Luo covered their eyes, losing their sight, ready to strike.

After the judge from the Zhuang family gave the signal, Chen Da roared loudly, activated his body technique and Tiger Subduing Fist, and rushed swiftly toward the spot where he remembered Cang Luo to be.

Chen Da’s fists whipped through the air with a low, growling roar, lunging at Cang Luo like a starving tiger ready to tear him apart and crush him.

“Thud... thud...”

Chen Da’s iron fists slammed down with tremendous force, striking the solid training ground and carving out two pits the size of watermelons in the hard yellow earth.

“Hmph! Lucky you.”

Chen Da missed, but that was expected—he knew no fool would stand still.

Those two punches, had they landed on Cang Luo, would have shattered him—but they didn’t.

To conserve spiritual energy, Chen Da temporarily halted the Tiger Subduing Fist, raised one hand high and lowered the other, guarding his front while straining to listen for Cang Luo’s movements.

The watching disciples fell silent in unison, aiding his search for Cang Luo.

After all, most disciples still hoped he’d win—they’d placed bets!

Who doesn’t want to win money?

Some disciples even waved their hands wildly in silence, desperate to shout out Cang Luo’s location so Chen Da could end the fight quickly.

Cang Luo observed their actions through the satellite, sneering inwardly.

Hah! You blind fools—I’ll bankrupt you all.

Chen Da listened intently to locate his opponent; so did Cang Luo.

Chen Da might genuinely have this ability, but Cang Luo was faking it—he occasionally clenched his teeth to make his ears twitch, pretending to be exceptionally skilled.

He couldn’t afford to act like he could see.

The temporary arena formed by the watching disciples was a circle about ten meters in diameter; Chen Da moved freely within it, pacing back and forth, his footsteps rustling softly.

Whenever he neared the human wall, a disciple would whisper to him that it was the arena’s edge, and he’d change direction upon hearing it.

Cang Luo did not dart around like Chen Da—he remained calm and composed, always maintaining a safe distance of over five meters from Chen Da.

Fortunately, the ground was yellow earth; Cang Luo, wearing soft-soled dark blue cloth shoes, moved without making a sound.

Cang Luo occasionally crept closer to Chen Da, then suddenly retreated as if he’d heard something—but he never approached the human wall.

He feared the watching disciples might give him away by shouting, letting Chen Da hear and pinpoint his position.

With the satellite’s real-time surveillance, Cang Luo was already guaranteed victory—that was why he’d proposed the blindfolded duel.

Cang Luo had read *The Three Essentials of the Martial Practitioner*; he knew only those who reached Wu Ling could perceive their surroundings and targets through spiritual awareness, and only after reaching Wu Wang could they actively project their spiritual awareness to search.

Cang Luo was at the Warrior stage—he could not perceive targets with spiritual awareness.

So he pretended to listen intently, making everyone believe he possessed the extraordinary skill of locating enemies by sound alone, not some other ability—so as not to expose the satellite.

“Look, that kid seems to have exceptional hearing—he’s kept a safe distance from Brother Chen all along. Has he trained some special technique?”

“I noticed too. No wonder he requested a blindfolded duel—he truly has an advantage.”

“Is he just going to keep dodging forever? Coward! Waste!”

“He won’t. He’s probably waiting for the right moment to strike. They’re already enemies—this duel is just the beginning. There’ll be many more days ahead.”

He won’t let this chance to defeat Brother Chen slip away—next time, Chen won’t agree to a blindfolded duel.”

“So Cang Luo might win? Damn it, my spiritual stones—Brother Chen, smash that waste...”

Disciples who had bet on Chen Da’s victory grew restless as they saw Cang Luo’s chance to win.

Some clever disciples began shouting loudly to cheer Chen Da, trying to disrupt Cang Luo’s hearing and indirectly aid Chen Da.

Though dishonorable, it didn’t violate the duel rules—but it had no effect on Cang Luo.

He was watching through a “god’s-eye view,” not listening with his ears.

In contrast to those supporting Chen Da were the few disciples who had bet on Cang Luo, along with Cang Feng and others.

There was one more person who wanted Cang Luo to win: the duel’s judge, who was also the bookmaker of this betting pool.

If Cang Luo won, the bookmaker would make a huge profit.

If Cang Luo lost, it didn’t matter—his gang could afford the payout; the odds were low, only 1.05.

The winning disciples were happy, and he wasn’t upset—he was glad to pay out.

It boosted his gang’s prestige, attracting more disciples to join, strengthening their numbers and increasing their dues, and built a reputation for honesty that would benefit future, larger betting schemes.

Cang Luo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one suspected how he avoided Chen Da’s attacks.

That meant it was time to counterattack.

So, before everyone’s eyes, Cang Luo pulled from his sleeve a pebble the size of a quail’s egg.

He carried over thirty such pebbles in his sleeve—collected secretly on the way here, known only to Cang Feng.

“When did Brother Cang pick up these stones? Planning to throw them at Chen Da?” Li Zhan stared at the pebble in Cang Luo’s hand with a puzzled expression.

Liu Xuande’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Brother Cang’s sound-based targeting combined with pebble ambushes might actually win.”

Pebbles don’t do much damage, but constant drops wear through stone!”

“Ah! Can we still place bets?”

Xiang Yunjiao, hearing Liu Xuande’s words, finally relaxed completely, her gaze fixed firmly on Cang Luo.

Suddenly, she didn’t think he was so useless—he lacked cultivation but used wit...

Liu Xuande and the others were delighted; those who had bet on Cang Luo’s defeat flew into a rage, accusing him of dishonor and using hidden weapons.

Fortunately, the judge stepped forward and shouted them down: “I already stated the only rule of this duel: do not remove your blindfold.”

“I never said weapons were forbidden. Besides, a pebble the size of a copper coin counts as a hidden weapon?”

No one could refute the judge’s words—they could only warn Chen Da to be careful.

A few disciples, having placed heavy bets, tried to reveal Cang Luo’s position to Chen Da—but Cang Feng and the judge swiftly dealt with them.

Cang Feng relied on brute force; the judge relied on his gang, whose over fifty percent of members were Warrior-grade disciples.

Chen Da, hearing the warnings, scoffed: “Hmph! Waste is waste—always resorting to low tricks. I’ve got copper skin and iron bones... Ouch!”

Before he finished speaking, a pebble struck his bald head squarely, scraping his scalp and drawing thin trails of blood.

This throw came from a Warrior Third Layer—its power was immense; had Chen Da been an Earthling, the pebble would have pierced his skull.

“Copper skin and iron bones? Seems pretty painful, doesn’t it?”

Cang Luo deliberately provoked Chen Da—then immediately moved, knowing Chen Da would charge toward the sound.

“I’ll kill you!”

Chen Da’s hair stood on end; he activated the Tiger Subduing Fist again and dashed toward the sound’s origin.

As he neared, he suddenly switched from fist to palm, lunging forward to grab—but missed.

“Ahh!” Chen Da screamed, smashing a furious fist into the ground.

This time, the pebble hit his nose—the nose, one of the body’s most vulnerable spots.

Strike first at the face; strike the face, strike the nose.

In street fights, a punch to the nose knocks a man out for seconds, leaving him helpless.

The pebble struck Chen Da’s nasal tip dead center—golden stars flashed before his eyes, searing pain surged through him, and two streams of bright red blood gushed from his nostrils.

Chen Da cultivated a Earth-elemental core method—he couldn’t use spiritual energy to heal, only to seal his blood vessels and barely stop the bleeding.

“Aaaaah! Damn it!”

Bent over, clutching his nose, Chen Da had just stopped the bleeding when another barrage of pebbles struck him four or five times—howling in agony, his head swelled with bruises.

Chen Da screamed; Cang Luo wore a puzzled expression.

What’s going on? I’ve never had any shooting training—how am I hitting so accurately? Every throw lands exactly where I aim?

Cang Luo couldn’t explain it, so he attributed the ability to the martial practitioner’s formidable physique and mental discipline.

Hmm? Could I later craft some flying daggers or darts as hidden weapons?

Cang Luo relaxed, pondering how to maximize this ability, while Chen Da frantically ran about.

He dared not stay still—he clutched his nose with one hand and covered his head with the other, sprinting wildly to avoid being hit.

Chen Da’s tactic worked—Cang Luo tried several throws but missed, even accidentally hitting a watching disciple.

The pebble attacks were temporarily useless; Cang Luo halted to conserve ammunition, carefully pretending to be blind, groping on the ground to retrieve the pebbles and replenish his supply.

As he picked up the pebbles, Cang Luo thought of a new strategy.

After a long while, Cang Luo suddenly called out: “I’m right here...”

The moment he spoke, Chen Da instinctively stopped running—but instantly realized it was a trap. Too late—he was struck twice more.

“Aaaah! Furious! You waste, dare to face me head-on!”

Chen Da flew into a rage but had no choice—he kept running.

Now he regretted agreeing to the blindfolded duel, desperately thinking how to counter this dishonorable tactic.

Cang Luo watched Chen Da, bloodied and bruised, feeling immense satisfaction.

But he didn’t lower his guard—Chen Da was wounded, but not crippled; if given the chance, he could still land a killing blow.

Cang Luo’s goal: accumulate these wounds gradually, drain Chen Da’s stamina and spiritual energy, then strike the fatal blow when he was exhausted.

Before the duel, Cang Feng had said Chen Da’s Tiger Subduing Fist consumed enormous energy—he estimated Chen Da could unleash it at most ten times.

After ten, his spiritual energy would be depleted.

Cang Luo had been counting Chen Da’s Tiger Subduing Fist strikes—since the duel began, Chen Da had used it three times...