Chapter 59: Defeat After Defeat

“Is this the Heaven-Class Upper-Grade martial art, Spring-Autumn Palm? Why does it look a bit like the Gentle Fist Eight Trigrams Palm from Naruto? Targeting acupoints...”

Before the second match began, Cang Luo was replaying the video of Zhao Renwu’s battle with Lin Xin on his phone.

He noticed that Lin Xin had delivered thirty-two palms in three seconds; apart from the first few, every strike hit acupoints across Zhao Renwu’s entire body, instantly killing him.

Cang Luo pondered: if he had been the one fighting her, how would he break the Spring-Autumn Palm?

Such palm speed made close-range engagement impossible; even with dynamic tracking, he couldn’t dodge—only retreat, but retreating meant no counterattack.

This is problematic...

Warriors lack ranged attacks and can’t use hidden weapons; if forced to brawl, how powerful is the Spring-Autumn Palm?

Zhao Renwu, at Warrior Sixth Layer, was taken out in one go—clearly, its power is formidable.

How many palms could he endure? To what extent could Infinite Qi heal him? Could it unblock acupoints?

Cang Luo watched the video of Zhao Renwu versus Lin Xin while analyzing ways to counter it.

“Forget it—if all else fails, I’ll reveal my trump card: Body-Annihilating Divine Art or summon Erha to fight. Erha has ranged attacks—he’s literally the warrior’s nightmare.”

Cang Luo muttered, then sent the match video to the WeChat group and refocused his attention on the arena.

At this moment, Murong Ye from Kong Sheng Academy observed Wang Fuhai for a while, then selected a lean, dark-skinned teenager from among his thirty-odd outer-disciple students to step forward.

The boy bowed respectfully, handed his sword to a nearby disciple, and calmly walked onto the arena, clasping his fists toward Wang Fuhai: “Simu Ling, fifteen, Warrior Seventh Layer, from the capital. I humbly request instruction from your brother of Xuantian Sect.”

After Simu Ling formally announced his name and cultivation level, the Xuantian Sect disciples erupted in uproar.

“Kong Sheng Academy is challenging a higher level?”

“How disrespectful to our Xuantian Sect! Damn it!”

“Brother Wang must win! Crush him...”

Wang Fuhai was now furious—how dare they look down on him? Challenge a higher level?

Hah! Let this fat master show you how to behave.

“Yaaah! Yaaah! Yaaah!” Wang Fuhai roared several times, preparing to unleash his trump card early and end this swiftly, making the opponent pay dearly for underestimating him.

Months ago, Wang Fuhai spent a fortune bribing the Scripture Pavilion’s steward to acquire the Spirit-Class Lower-Grade heart method, “Rock Shield,” and now he had mastered it.

Rock Shield, a Earth-element heart method, is famed for its incredible defense; when activated, it greatly enhances bodily strength, forming a rock-like layer on the skin as hard as stone.

Now, as Wang Fuhai activated Rock Shield, his fat rippled and compressed, gray matter oozing from every pore.

Moments later, the gray substance multiplied, hardening his skin completely into something as rigid as rock.

Rock Shield is a heart method, but can also be used as a martial art; Wang Fuhai’s usual tactic was to activate Rock Shield and use his own body as a weapon.

Just charge!

After preparing, Wang Fuhai wasted no words—he charged straight at Simu Ling like a rolling war chariot, with overwhelming might!

Simu Ling’s eyes flashed with ruthlessness; he calmly sidestepped Wang Fuhai’s charge, then, before the opponent could recover his stance, lunged forward with a punch straight into Wang Fuhai’s back.

Wang Fuhai had anticipated this; he tilted his head slightly, glancing sideways. Though he could evade, he remained still, determined to endure the blow to prove to Kong Sheng Academy that challenging a higher level was pure folly.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Simu Ling landed three consecutive punches on Wang Fuhai’s back—slow in speed, but heavy in force, each strike landing solidly.

Yet Wang Fuhai appeared unfazed; he laughed loudly: “That’s all you’ve got? You think you can challenge a higher level? You’re like a sissy scratching my fat!”

Facing Wang Fuhai’s mockery, Simu Ling remained calm—he was now finishing his cultivation and regulating his breath, too focused to argue.

The three punches he’d just thrown looked ordinary, but had consumed nearly half his Qi.

Those weren’t ordinary punches—they were the Earth-Class Lower-Grade martial art, “True Yang Fist.”

Moments later, Simu Ling completed his regulation and smiled at Wang Fuhai: “Is that so? Are you certain it was just scratching?”

Wang Fuhai sneered, about to mock further, when suddenly a searing pain erupted in his chest, cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and blood trickled from his lips—he gasped in terror: “W-what did you do to me?”

Simu Ling smirked: “Nothing much—my technique has the effect of striking through mountains. Those three punches passed straight through your fat and struck your internal organs.”

“But don’t worry—your fat was thick enough to absorb much of the force. Rest a few days, and you’ll recover.”

Hearing this, Wang Fuhai turned ashen, crouching in pain, muttering: “How could this happen? I trained a Spirit-Class Lower-Grade heart method! How could I not block three punches?”

At once, Wang Fuhai’s four underlings rushed forward to support him; one nervously asked: “Boss, are you alright?”

“I’m fine...” Wang Fuhai chuckled bitterly, then asked Simu Ling: “What level is your martial art?”

Simu Ling replied coolly: “Earth-Class Lower-Grade, True Yang Fist.”

At this, Wang Fuhai and his four men were stunned—gazing at Simu Ling with envy and fear.

Earth-Class Lower-Grade heart methods in Xuantian Sect could only be acquired through merit points—no free distribution—and only elite disciples could obtain them.

Yet here, a Kong Sheng Academy outer-disciple could train an Earth-Class method...

Both were Imperial-Class sects—why such a vast disparity?

Was it because he was from the capital? Because his family was a martial clan?

In that moment, Wang Fuhai finally understood the difference between an ordinary warrior and a martial clan.

His family had accumulated some wealth through textile and apparel trade in Danyang Prefecture, but they were not a martial clan—no ancestral cultivation talent had been passed down; the highest cultivator in the family was his father, a Warrior General.

Birds of a feather flock together; a Warrior General could only associate with other Warrior Generals.

A man’s circle determined what resources he could access!

The Wang family had some wealth, but only compared to ordinary people—Wang Fuhai had once struggled desperately just to buy a Spirit-Class or higher method, eventually bribing the Scripture Pavilion steward.

Otherwise, he’d have to trade merit points or wait until he reached Warrior Spirit to claim a free set—both options were impossibly distant.

All sects on the Yuanwu Continent operated this way—it was a method to protect the interests of the warrior elite.

How easy was it for an ordinary family to become a martial clan with dozens of cultivators? Impossible—without methods, how could they even begin?

A true martial clan’s patriarch was usually at least a Warrior King—only Warrior Kings could forge method jade plaques to pass techniques to descendants.

At the very least, one needed Warrior Sovereign cultivation—Warrior Sovereigns were regional powers who could also obtain method jade plaques...

Thinking of this, Wang Fuhai, hollow-eyed, was led back by his four underlings to the group.

Simu Ling sneered twice at Wang Fuhai. He didn’t return to Kong Sheng Academy’s side; instead, he shouted arrogantly toward Zhao Renwu and the others, who were stunned: “Anyone else want to fight? I’ll take on anyone below Warrior Ninth Layer—including Ninth Layer!”

Disdain. Utter, unvarnished disdain.

After defeating Warrior Eighth Layer Wang Fuhai, Simu Ling dared challenge Warrior Ninth Layer—this was an unforgivable humiliation to every Xuantian Sect disciple present.

Yet, faced with Simu Ling’s provocation and mockery, the twenty-odd disciples from Liang, Wang, and Liu’s dorms, along with Wang Fuhai’s group, all seethed but dared not speak up.

They wouldn’t even meet Simu Ling’s gaze—only Cang Feng hesitated internally, wondering whether to step forward.

To the watching female disciples of Xuantian Sect, their behavior looked like cowardice; one woman snapped: “These men are a disgrace to our sect—too scared to fight! Cowards!”

“Which dorm are they from? After this, I’m kicking down their door and dragging a few out to wash my underwear.”

“I don’t know the fat one, but the others are from Dorm 1175, 1176, and 1177...” spoke Xiang Yunjiao—she’d visited Cang Luo several times and recognized some faces.

Seeing no one step forward, Simu Ling laughed loudly: “No one from Xuantian Sect dares fight? If no one will answer, then let’s end this—shall we continue the barbecue?”

Simu Ling’s relentless mockery enraged the Xuantian Sect crowd. Li Haoran glanced coldly at Zhao Renwu and the others and sneered: “What a bunch of useless trash.”

He then turned to Xuan Qingqing: “Qingqing, there are many outer-disciples watching—why not pick any one of them? They’d all be stronger than these.”

Hearing Li Haoran’s words, Zhao Renwu and Wang Fuhai hung their heads in shame.

Xuan Qingqing nodded, turning toward the watching disciples to select someone to fight—when suddenly, a calm voice came from behind.

“Who said Xuantian Sect has no one?”

It was Cang Luo. He had set his phone to record from a hidden spot, then walked up to Xuan Qingqing and bowed to her, before Zhao Renwu and Wang Fuhai’s astonished eyes: “Senior Sister Xuan, I wish to fight him.”

Xuan Qingqing froze—she hadn’t expected Cang Luo to volunteer. “Cang Brother, are you joking? By the way, what’s your cultivation level?”

Cang Luo pointed at Simu Ling casually: “Same as him—Warrior Seventh Layer. Fair enough.”

“Warrior Seventh Layer!”

Xuan Qingqing was startled—she hadn’t imagined Earth’s cultivation speed was this fast; he’d risen from Warrior First Layer to Seventh in under a month.

Even the elite inner-disciples couldn’t match that.

Li Haoran frowned slightly—he remembered when he first saw Cang Luo, the man was only Warrior First Layer. How had he reached Seventh?

Did the Office of Affairs lie to me?

If they didn’t lie, then this boy’s cultivation speed is terrifying—it’s nearly matching my own pace back then...

Suddenly, Li Haoran recalled something: he’d ordered Ouyang Lie to cripple Cang Luo’s hands—but Cang Luo was perfectly fine.

Ouyang Lie wouldn’t dare disobey him—so he must not have acted personally. He’d sent gang thugs instead.

Probably, when they found Cang Luo, his cultivation had surged—and they got killed in return.

Li Haoran guessed this—and he was right.

Cang Luo had no idea Ouyang Lie had been acting on Li Haoran’s orders when he sent Chen Da Hu to harass him.

Seeing Xuan Qingqing seemed hesitant to let him fight, Cang Luo added: “This match began from a misunderstanding between us and Kong Sheng Academy—it should be resolved by us ourselves. [90] Though our cultivation levels are the lowest among Xuantian Sect’s ten thousand disciples, we possess an unyielding heart. He wants to fight? Then we fight.”

Although our cultivation base is the lowest among the tens of thousands of disciples of the Profound Heaven Sect, we possess an unyielding heart that never surrenders—he wants to fight, we will fight.

Without waiting for Xuan Qingqing’s reply, Cang Luo walked straight toward Simu Ling. Behind him, Xuan Qingqing opened her mouth but stayed silent; Li Haoran watched her, brow furrowed.

Liu Xuande suddenly asked: “Cang Brother, is your arm injury healed?”

Cang Luo had once fought Zhang Tao, severely injuring both arms—but after dual treatment from Li Zhishi and Infinite Qi, he’d nearly fully recovered.

“All healed,” Cang Luo waved dismissively.

Wang Fuhai said: “Cang Brother, be careful—when facing his True Yang Fist, concentrate all your Qi to block. Otherwise, you won’t withstand it.”

Cang Luo didn’t turn back; he smiled: “Brother Wang, rest easy—I’ll avenge you.”

He walked to the center of the arena and bowed to Simu Ling: “Cang Luo, Warrior Seventh Layer, Tongzhou Earth Village... twenty-two years old.”

Cang Luo didn’t want to reveal his age—he knew it would invite ridicule—but the match rules required both opponents to state their cultivation level and age.

As expected, the Kong Sheng Academy group and the watching Xuantian Sect disciples burst into laughter—waves of laughter, rolling one after another.

“Good heavens! How did this dorm get such a weird guy? Twenty-two and only Warrior Seventh Layer?”

"His cultivation base is low, and he’s sloppy-looking—how does he still have the nerve to stay in the sect?"

"How presumptuous! Even that Fatso, a Warrior Eighth Layer, was easily defeated—how dare this twenty-two-year-old Warrior Seventh Layer even step onto the arena? Doesn’t he fear being laughed to death?"

"Senior Cang..." Xiang Yunjiao did not mock Cang Luo like the others; instead, she watched him anxiously—the man she had once planned to spend her life with.

Even after the misunderstanding was cleared, she did not want Cang Luo to be hurt.

On the Kong Sheng Academy side, Murong Ye furrowed his brows; the moment he saw Cang Luo, he noticed he bore an uncanny resemblance to a top disciple of their sect named Cang Huangwu.

At first, he assumed it was coincidence—after all, the world was vast, and two people looking identical was not strange, especially since the man was merely an outer disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect, so he dismissed it.

But this man’s surname was Cang?

They looked alike, and now they shared the same surname? What are the odds?

Who would believe these two had no connection?

If Cang Huangwu were an ordinary person, it wouldn’t matter how many others resembled him—but Cang Huangwu is a direct scion of the Cang family, one of the Four Imperial Families of the Capital!

This is intriguing—could this outer disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect be a lost descendant of the Cang family?

But his cultivation base is far too low—he’s only Warrior Seventh Layer at twenty-two.

Could it be that he lacked the Cang family’s cultivation talent and was cast out?