Chapter 483: Testing One's Skills

Huo Luan stood firm in the center of the arena, untied her short blade and tossed it to the side, then loosened her shoulder and neck joints, her bones emitting crisp cracking sounds.

She had changed into a set of narrow-sleeved short garments more convenient for movement, revealing a section of her forearm with smooth lines; the muscles were not particularly thick, but every time she clenched her fist, one could see the fascia sliding slightly beneath the skin—a characteristic only possessed by those who have held a blade for a long time.

"Rules?" She tilted her head to look at Cheng Feng.

"You decide."

"Straightforward." Huo Luan held up three fingers. "Three: no weapons, don't strike vital points, falling to the ground counts as a loss. Anything else is fine."

Cheng Feng nodded, took off his outer robe, folded it, and placed it beside the weapon rack. He wore only a form-fitting black martial outfit; his physique was not bulky, but the muscle lines on his shoulders, back, waist, and abdomen were as firm as if carved by a blade, without a hint of excess.

The two stood five paces apart in the arena.

Huo Luan did not move immediately, but instead scanned Cheng Feng up and down with her gaze.

From his stance to the rhythm of his breathing, from the distribution of his center of gravity to where his eyes were fixed, she observed very carefully.

This kind of scrutiny was different from the casual examination before; it was the professional gaze of a hunter evaluating prey.

Cheng Feng also took this opportunity to observe her.

Huo Luan's stance appeared loose, but in reality, every joint was in a slightly bent state, ready to exert force at any moment.

Her center of gravity was pressed very low, her feet one in front of the other, toes slightly turned inward—this was a typical starting stance for military Blade Technique, emphasizing a stable base and swift force exertion.

"I'm coming." As soon as Huo Luan finished speaking, she had already vanished from where she stood.

Fast.

It was even faster than Cheng Feng had anticipated. Huo Luan's footwork had no flashy wind-up; her whole body was like an arrow shot from a bowstring, skimming almost against the ground as she came over.

The three-zhang distance was covered in an instant, and her right fist had already reached Cheng Feng's chest, knuckles protruding into a cone shape, aiming straight for the Tanzhong Point.

Cheng Feng did not retreat but advanced instead, blocking outward with his left arm while simultaneously twisting his body to the right, avoiding the fist's edge while hooking his right foot toward her ankle.

This move did not seek to inflict damage, only to disrupt the opponent's balance.

A flash of surprise crossed Huo Luan's eyes, but she reacted extremely quickly; the moment her ankle was hooked, she simply used the momentum to leap into the air, twisting her waist and spinning in mid-air, the sole of her left foot sweeping toward Cheng Feng's temple with the sound of wind.

If this kick had landed solidly, even without striking a vital point, he would have passed out on the spot.

Cheng Feng tilted his head to dodge, then took the opportunity to grab her ankle with both hands, intending to throw her away.

But Huo Luan suddenly retracted her legs and curled her body in mid-air, shrinking into a ball and passing through between Cheng Feng's hands; upon landing, she used one hand to support herself, rolled, dissipated the inertia, and instantly sprang up, reopening the distance.

The exchange between the two lasted no more than two or three breaths, yet they had already traded offense and defense three times.

After landing, Huo Luan did not continue the attack but stood in place, shaking her right wrist, her eyes shining astonishingly: "Interesting. Your reaction speed is a cut above the average Organ Refining Mid-stage, and you predicted my punching path—how did you do it?"

"Your shoulder moves before you throw a punch," Cheng Feng answered truthfully. "The range is very small, but enough for me to see clearly."

"Good observation." Huo Luan licked her lips. "But I'm going to get serious now; I only used fifty percent of my strength just now."

Cheng Feng smiled, not mentioning that he had actually only used thirty percent.

Huo Luan lunged forward again; this time, her speed and force had clearly risen to another level.

Her strikes and kicks were no longer tentative single moves, but coherent offensive combinations—one punch following a kick, one knee linked to an elbow, every move interlocking, airtight.

What was even more terrifying was the angle of her attacks—she almost never struck from the front; every attack cut in from the flank, and she would leave immediately after striking, never lingering, like a leopard circling repeatedly around its prey.

Although Cheng Feng's defensive style was solid, facing this kind of storm-like continuous attack, simple defense was already barely enough.

However, just defending all the time was not very interesting.

Cheng Feng began to counterattack actively, inserting one or two punches in the gaps between Huo Luan's moves, attempting to disrupt her offensive rhythm.

The figures of the two moved rapidly across the Martial Arts Arena, and the sharp sound of footsteps friction constantly echoed on the bluestone ground.

The muffled sounds of fists and feet colliding were as dense as beating drums, occasionally interspersed with one or two crisp sounds of bone impacts.

By the twenty-seventh move, Huo Luan suddenly changed her tactics.

Her right fist feinted to draw away Cheng Feng's defense, while her left hand's five fingers spread out, stabbing diagonally at his waist from the side and rear.

This angle was extremely tricky, and the timing of the strike was caught exactly at the moment Cheng Feng was shifting his center of gravity.

Cheng Feng's right fist, wrapped in inertia, smashed toward Huo Luan's face.

Huo Luan crossed her palms to block this punch and was forced back two steps by the impact.

She shook her numb palms and was just about to say something when she suddenly discovered that Cheng Feng had taken advantage of her retreat to close the distance, his left hand's five fingers curled into a claw, stopping one inch in front of her throat.

It didn't touch, but it was enough.

Huo Luan lowered her head to look at the hand less than an inch from her throat, then looked up at Cheng Feng, and after two breaths of silence,

she stepped back and cupped her hands cleanly and decisively: "I take back what I said before. Cheng Feng, you are indeed qualified to be my teammate."

Cheng Feng withdrew his left hand and returned the salute with cupped hands. His breathing remained the same, and his overall state was still steady.

The endurance advantage brought by the Flood Dragon Body was manifested to the fullest at this moment—in this intensity of sparring, an ordinary Organ Refining Mid-stage Martial Artist would have already been panting, while his body had only just begun to heat up.

Liu Yu's clear voice came from under the flagpole: "Come over here."

The two walked over; Liu Yu switched the blade from his bosom to his left hand, freed his right hand to fish out a flat tin flask from his waist, unscrewed the cap, took a swig, and then unhurriedly extended two fingers: "Two problems."

"Huo girl, your offensive rhythm is too fast." He looked at Huo Luan. "Fast is not a bad thing, but your speed is one-way—you only considered your own striking speed, not Cheng Feng's defensive rhythm."

"Every move you made was chasing his openings, but have you noticed that during your exchange, the number of his defensive counters has been steadily increasing?"

"It shows he has been secretly adjusting his own rhythm to adapt to you, while you were fighting according to your own habits the whole time."

Huo Luan frowned as she recalled, her expression changing slightly.

"Cheng Feng," Liu Yu turned to him, his dark, heavy eyes meeting his gaze, "you have a problem too. Actually, you don't need to hide your strength; although Huo Luan is arrogant, she wouldn't refuse to accept it."

Cheng Feng shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

"He was holding back against me?"

Huo Luan widened her eyes, looking back and forth between Cheng Feng and Liu Yu in disbelief several times.

"No..." She grabbed her hair hard. "That moment just now when I almost swept your temple, was that you letting me off on purpose?"

"It doesn't count as letting you off on purpose." Cheng Feng thought for a moment, weighing his words. "It's just that I'm used to figuring out the opponent's rhythm in the first half of a fight, so I don't go all out at the beginning."