Chapter 237: Tiger and Whale (Part One) (Bonus chapter for our patron friend with the long string of numbers!)

As the battle began, strength and weakness were immediately clear; Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's pressure on Yang Yan matched everyone's pre-match expectations exactly.

Six-life versus five-life, and Yang Yan was not famed for raw power like Zhang Zhang Junxue; under this strike, he was nearly routed.

Zhang Zhang Mozhu had barely survived two strikes with astonishing footwork before barely holding on to the third; Yang Yan, facing an even stronger blow, dared to meet it with a blade block—and thus must endure its merciless consequences.

Yang Yan gritted his teeth and lifted his head; this was indeed a predicament he had not anticipated.

Studying his opponents was a practice he had only recently begun, for whenever he sparred with Pei Ye, who always delivered methodical victories, Yang Yan only realized belatedly—after being outmaneuvered again—that he had been tricked once more.

The more he fought him, the more Pei Ye understood him, and the more Yang Yan lost than won; after every bout, Yang Yan would frown and stare blankly as the boy spoke confidently about his tactics.

Do you really have to think so much during a fight?

He had never fought like this—he never had time to plan his next move, never knew why he launched a particular strike, as if he were merely a mindless weapon-wielding machine. He didn't understand himself, nor did he think about his opponent; in every exchange, he only startled awake the instant the blade neared his body. In five-life versus five-life battles, he always fought on the edge of disaster.

This was clearly not a healthy state. Seeing the virtuous, he aspired to emulate them; Pei Ye's methods were the rational way for the weak to overcome the strong. So Yang Yan repeatedly asked the boy for advice—and indeed gained much insight. Before today's tournament, Yang Yan had written down Shang Qijiao Shang Huaitong and Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's names on paper, then added Pei Ye's name, carefully marking their strengths and weaknesses, designing a winning strategy for each.

Now facing Zhang Zhang Zongyuan, Yang Yan knew his surprise tactic lay in "Swallow the Sea." Following Pei Ye's principle of "surprise to win," this move was meant to be his final, decisive strike.

But at the battle's outset, the force and ferocity of Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's staff far exceeded his expectations; by the first exchange, "Swallow the Sea" had already been forced out.

Yang Yan did feel a moment of shock and panic, but he was not entirely unprepared; now, he held the swallowed force within his blade, his enemy right before him, and he suppressed the urge to rebound it, silently swallowing it down without expression.

This was something he had planned—the swallowing of power was the first layer of surprise; the ability to redirect it afterward was the second layer, deliberately concealed.

This was the first chapter of "Swallow the Sea," the "Ní" section, designed to dissipate power beyond one's limit—just as he had deflected the old man's staff outside Zhuoyue Tower—but Yang Yan often deliberately used this technique to increase pressure on his opponent.

If the first strike fails, the opponent will strike again, and again; if one unit of power cannot break through "Swallow the Sea," the opponent will bring two, ten units; when this accumulated force reaches a point neither can withstand, Yang Yan would unleash it along an unexpected trajectory, slamming it back onto his enemy to secure victory.

As for the blade technique he himself could not yet master, Pei Ye had advised him not to include it in his plan.

"What is a plan? A plan is a series of executable steps—there can be no unpredictable elements. Otherwise, you're handing the entire battle over to chance, not controlling it yourself." Pei Ye spoke confidently, often citing his case of single-handedly killing seven-lifes in the rain as an example; Yang Yan listened, nodding thoughtfully.

Now was the moment to uphold this plan.

But the next instant, this fragile resolve nearly shattered.

The second strike came too strong, too fast!

Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's violent power was abruptly swallowed—he sensed it, his brows tightening as he sharply turned toward the boy.

He hadn't fully seen what had just happened, but for a warrior, no battle is ever perfectly clear; the more you think during combat, the more hesitant and weak your hands become. So the instant his strike lost momentum, he twisted his step, and his long staff exploded again into a raging storm.

A waist-level horizontal sweep!

"Repel the Tiger Staff" · 【Wind Howl】

Unlike the sudden, predatory pounce of 【Grass Startles】, this move resembled a tiger's tail sweeping sideways—perfectly positioned in height, distance, and angle, impossible to evade.

To evade it, you must leap upward.

Yang Yan's blade was still processing the force from the previous strike—he had no time to launch another "Swallow the Sea." He did spot a gap to strike, but it was a "useless attack," offering no controllable advantage, only disrupting his own strategy.

Thus, already in peril, and forced to conceal his counter, he had no choice but to leap.

And Zhang Zhang Zongyuan watched him calmly.

To leap was to fall into Zhang Zhang Mozhu's defeat pattern.

In an instant, the man's arm strength shifted like a tiger halting a charging ox; the howling staff strike halted, then exploded again—force and Qi surged, transforming the sweep into an upward thrust, the staff becoming a dragon bursting from its cave, striking the boy from below.

Zhang Zhang Mozhu had 【Inverted Kite Wing】; do you?

Yang Yan, of course, did not. Watching the roaring staff hurtling toward him, his pupils shrank to pinpoints—but at the last moment, his blade had swallowed the previous force; the boy arched backward midair, his body curving into a bow, using his posture to create space, and his blade traced a mysterious half-circle, encircling the incoming staff head.

The fierce power vanished again—and in that same seamless instant, Zhang Zhang Zongyuan slammed the staff downward once more, just as he had done against Zhang Zhang Mozhu; his entire body surged upward along the staff, appearing instantly before Yang Yan, his flapping robes like the rigid wings of a vulture.

In terms of battlefield adaptability and decisive action, among these one hundred twenty-eight, he ranked unquestionably among the top three.

—If you can find gaps to breathe with a staff, what about fists?

Long weapons are slow, short fists are fast—this is basic martial principle. In three exchanges, Zhang Zhang Zongyuan had fully grasped the situation and changed tactics with shocking speed, striking Yang Yan's fatal point. And this ability was precisely what Yang Yan had been desperately learning from Pei Ye these past days.

He still hadn't fully understood it.

But now it was too late to say anything; Yang Yan was still processing why the man had suddenly abandoned his staff.

This was a habit he had recently cultivated—"Fighting isn't just about limbs; your eyes and mind must never idle. Observe every detail, think about every strike."

'Of course—fists are fast; now that he's closed in, my long weapon's sluggishness has become my weakness—'

But he had no idea how useful this realization was, because a punch like a tiger's roar was already hurtling toward his face!

Yang Yan barely managed to raise his arm to block; the instant his Qi solidified, an unmatched force slammed into him—mirrors shattered, tiles cracked, half his body went numb, his Qi churning violently within.

But at the moment of impact, Yang Yan also unleashed a burst of counter-force; the same footwork that had appeared on Zhuoyue Tower now manifested here—before the second punch arrived, the boy used that force to propel himself five zhang away.

He staggered, then leaned crookedly to a stop, clutching his shoulder.

Finally, he could catch two desperate breaths.

The audience offered no applause or cheers.

This one-sided beating was inherently dull, and neither man was well-known. To many, Yang Yan's precarious survival had already exceeded expectations—he had lasted five strikes, enough to quit, since the betting house had a wager: "Will Yang Yan survive more rounds than Zhang Zhang Mozhu?"

On the northern platform, Zhang Zhang Dingyun watched silently, eyes lowered; though he had expected this, he had still clung to a sliver of hope for a miracle before the match.

But Zhang Zhang Zongyuan was simply too strong.

Some five-lifes can defeat six-lifes; some cannot. Likewise, some six-lifes can be beaten by five-lifes; some cannot.

Zhang Zhang Zongyuan was unquestionably among the latter—he was pure, flawless strength. Against such a man, you cannot find an opening.

On the field, Yang Yan took two breaths and immediately lifted his gaze—his heart clenched again.

No gap remained; the man raised his staff and charged forward—next instant, another unstoppable strike loomed.

But this overwhelming pressure was not the true reason Yang Yan's spirit sank.

Last month, he had faced far more terrifying predicaments; just over ten days ago, he had encountered a seven-life assassin on Zhuoyue Tower.

The old villain's bamboo staff had summoned storms that nearly overwhelmed "Swallow the Sea"; Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's strikes, at least, still fell within "Swallow the Sea"'s capacity.

What truly scrambled his mind was that events had once again veered into territory he had never anticipated.

—The opponent had not chosen to overpower his "Swallow the Sea," or even to break it.

He had simply chosen to prevent Yang Yan from using or absorbing it.

Relentless, continuous attacks.

Clearly, very effective.

Then the second surprise tactic suddenly had nowhere to land—how could he swallow or rebound anything if the enemy never unleashed full-force strikes?

"Of course there will be surprises, there always are. This is when you test your control over battlefield information and your insight into details. The enemy can break your plan, but your plan can also change endlessly—yet never strays from its essence."

How does it not stray? The essence is these two surprise techniques—and they're already useless!

"Don't panic, don't lose your composure. Keep blocking, keep watching, keep thinking."

"And then?"

"Then, in a flash, the solution appears."

To hell with your flash! He'd actually believed that once!

Yang Yan had no idea how to win this fight. The key was right there—but how could he make the enemy follow his plan?

His mind wasn't blank—it was flashing too fast. He strained his thoughts desperately, searching for an exit, but couldn't grasp any single idea, especially now—when he looked up, another staff strike, like a mountain collapsing, came crashing down upon him!

Fuck!

Yang Yan stepped back, raising his blade to absorb the force—while at the same time, the wind of the man's other fist slammed toward his face.

Both attacks came at once—he couldn't withstand either!

Yang Yan gritted his teeth and raised his arm again to block; his left arm, still throbbing from the previous punch, remained numb—but his mind still had no solution, so he traded another punch for another desperate retreat.

In truth, he was already deeply frustrated.

Yet when fist met arm, the impact was not a blow.

But a firm grip!

Yang Yan looked down in shock—Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's fist had opened into a palm, clamping tightly around his forearm.

While Yang Yan's mind was chaotic, the man never paused in his cold, efficient thinking; the boy's weaknesses and evasions were glaringly obvious—how could the man give him any breathing room?

Every attack adjusted, based on information from the previous exchange, toward greater lethality.

Now, the boy's arm was trapped, unable to escape, his blade filled with the staff's force—and Zhang Zhang Zongyuan's killing move bared its fangs.

To strike with the staff while simultaneously punching, he needed to be closer, so he gripped the staff's middle.

But this grip's true purpose only now revealed itself—in the instant the upper half lost power, Zhang Zhang Zongyuan twisted his arm, spinning the staff half a circle; the lower half erupted with a tiger's roar!

This technique's true use was to strike with the lower half after the upper was deflected—a common staff method, sacrificing heavy impact for seamless, sudden speed.

And this move was included in "Repel the Tiger Staff" precisely because, while achieving such speed, its power remained terrifyingly potent.

In such confined space, the sudden burst of force left Yang Yan no time to analyze the Qi flow—his body was trapped, his blade too slow to swallow the previous force!

The heavy staff roared toward his chest and abdomen; his muscles tensed like iron, his heart clenched into a ball.

But he could still endure this strike—lift his leg, or drop his blade and draw his waist dagger. Neither outcome would be good, but he could survive this exchange—and perhaps the next, the enemy would grow impatient and unleash a full-power strike.

Then his prepared surprise tactic could finally be used.

Yang Yan gritted his teeth and lifted his leg toward the staff's tip.

But at that moment, the man's calm face entered the boy's vision—a hunter's certainty as he tracked a limping wolf.

That expression ignited the flame buried deep in Yang Yan's heart. He instinctively bit down hard, his thigh frozen in place—all tactical thoughts vanished from his mind.

How could there be such a humiliating tactic?! Your arm is hit, and now you're supposed to offer your leg?!

Since the fight began, he had not landed a single strike of his own!

Yang Yan suddenly turned his head, glaring fiercely at the man's face, and his blade—still holding the swallowed force—slashed downward with all his might.

Bullshit plan! Bullshit surprise tactic!

Come on!!

The blade's trajectory met the charging iron staff—and then, like a mountain collapsing, overwhelming force erupted forth.

Just kidding—thank you, patron friend!

(End of chapter)