Chapter 61: I Didn

Three days later!

Boom!

The camphor tree in the courtyard trembled; already sparse, its leaves lost another third as Lin Chen struck with his palm.

Now it was visibly thin.

Barely bald had become half-bald.

Lin Chen stood at the courtyard’s center, bare-chested; along his arms from hands to shoulders, at every acupoint, blood visibly surged beneath the skin.

Four acupoints!

Two on each arm.

Only now could he truly claim neither hand had a weakness.

“Panel!”

【Host: Lin Chen】

【Realm: Acupoint Opening (4/24): (5/100)】

【Clear Wind Palm: Minor Mastery (2/10)】

【Water Cloud Palm: Proficient (1/10)】

……

…… (To prevent complaints about fluff—there’s no such thing as “fluff” during the free period, but Jiudeng tries not to write unchanging panel entries.)

Over ten days, Clear Wind Palm’s progress increased by only one point.

Lin Chen wasn’t discouraged; though he trained Clear Wind Palm daily, he mostly used its minor mastery to accelerate his internal blood flow—his understanding of the palm technique had improved little.

After half an hour spent adjusting to the changes from his four opened acupoints, Lin Chen changed out of the martial arts school’s training robe into a fitted tunic.

This outfit had been given to him days ago by Cheng Ying, his junior, during a gathering with Lu Yongfeng and the others; Cheng Ying’s family ran a fabric shop and had gifted each of them two sets.

Not fine silk or brocade, but incredibly soft against the skin, lacking the rough, skin-irritating texture of hemp.

Leaving the martial arts school, Lin Chen bought a new mask from a incense shop, put it on, and headed straight for Wuyuan.

Wuyuan Arena.

When he arrived, Lin Chen was surprised—the martial artists here outnumbered those at the end of last month.

Especially the number of masked martial artists had surged dramatically.

“Another academy student. Lately, bullying these newcomers has been so satisfying.”

“I heard the Wuzhengsuo cracked down hard on all academies this year—new students must fight every three months. These junior brothers all want to hone their combat skills here.”

As Lin Chen entered, the unmasked martial artists murmured among themselves.

Lin Chen understood: the arena’s crowd had swelled because new students from every academy had come.

With the three-month competition deadline approaching, those aiming to rank high in their academies had their own plans.

Coming to Wuyuan Arena to sharpen combat skills wasn’t just his idea—everyone else thought of it too.

So intense!

Lin Chen sighed, walked to the referee’s station, and presented his identity token for registration.

“Four acupoints!”

After hearing his level, the registering referee glanced at Lin Chen, then wrote his ID number on the paper.

As Lin Chen headed toward the second arena, the referee flipped back ten pages in his ledger and saw the entry: One Thousand Two Hundred and Eight, Two Acupoints.

The referee lifted his gaze again to Lin Chen’s back, then circled that ID number.

Masks change. IDs don’t.

……

……

On the second arena, both fighters wore masks; after a few glances, Lin Chen identified them as from Qixing Martial Arts Academy and Zhenyue Martial Arts Academy.

The Qixing fighter’s proficiency in Seven Stars Fist was slightly higher than Lu Yongfeng’s—clearly already proficient.

Yet even so, he was on the defensive; his Seven Stars Fist was agile, but his opponent wasn’t fazed.

The Zhenyue fighter was like a mountain of flesh, charging across the arena; each impact forced the Qixing fighter into frantic dodges.

“No matter how refined or nimble the technique, if it can’t break defense, it’s just showmanship. The Qixing fighter will lose.”

Soon after Lin Chen formed this prediction, the Qixing man was backed to the arena’s edge; facing the Zhenyue fighter’s charge, he had no choice but to jump down and concede.

The Qixing man stepped down, and several masked fighters immediately gathered around him; Lin Chen recognized the pattern—they were all from Qixing, here as a group to grind the arena.

Not just Qixing—many masked fighters below were in small groups; without hesitation, Lin Chen stepped onto the arena after the Qixing man descended.

“Brother, need rest?”

According to arena rules, the winner could rest fifteen minutes or leave entirely to rest fully before returning.

“No.”

The Zhenyue fighter grunted—he hadn’t expended much energy against the Qixing man.

“Please instruct me, Brother.”

“Alright!”

The Zhenyue fighter shifted his bulk, his thick muscles trembling, radiating a rock-like resilience; he stepped forward first, charging with the force of collapsing mountains and surging seas, unhesitatingly.

Zhenyue Martial Arts Academy specialized in Iron Bone Art—body like iron; within the same realm, few could pierce its defense.

The previous Qixing fighter had lost precisely because he couldn’t break through the Iron Bone Art.

Watching the man charge, Lin Chen suddenly accelerated and struck with Clear Wind Palm.

“Clear Wind Academy disciple.”

Seeing Lin Chen’s palm strike, many below recognized his identity.

Only a Clear Wind Academy disciple would use Clear Wind Palm.

Thwack!

The palm struck the Zhenyue fighter’s body; Lin Chen clearly felt the vibration through his skin—yet the blow sank like a mud ox into the sea, leaving no ripple.

No wonder it’s called the number one hardening art in Poyang County!

Lin Chen hadn’t expected his proficient Clear Wind Palm to fail against this defense.

“Zhenyue Martial Arts Academy: supreme hardening. Within the same realm, only Tie Xue Academy’s Iron Crash Fist rivals it; all others fall short!”

This line was written by Yu Jiaoxi in his notes.

Tie Xue and Zhenyue Academies had always been the two strongest of the Eight Academies—one the hardest fist, the other the strongest shield.

Other academies, even with equal technique mastery, struggled against them in the same realm.

But their advantage came at great cost: they soaked their bodies in secret medicines, far exceeding other disciples’ expenses.

“If he meets Fu Shidi, this Clear Wind disciple is done for.”

“Fu Shidi has only four acupoints, but his Iron Bone Art is already proficient—he can beat even five-acupoint disciples from other academies.”

Proficient Iron Bone Art was far harder than opening five acupoints.

Among Zhenyue’s new students this year, only two had reached proficiency in Iron Bone Art: Fu Shidi and Gu Shixiong.

After several consecutive palms, Lin Chen was still suppressed—but since training Fei Yan Jue, his footwork was extremely agile; though the arena limited Fei Yan Jue’s full potential, it was more than enough against the Zhenyue disciple.

Iron Bone Art was strong in defense, but sacrificed agility.

Lin Chen carefully observed his opponent’s movements; every turn or shift carried clear pre-movement cues, like a combat wind-up.

“You’re good at running—dare you fight me properly?”

On the arena, Fu Ang watched Lin Chen dart around like a swallow, growing impatient, and sneered.

“As you wish!”

Lin Chen stopped, a faint smile on his lips, drew a deep breath, his essence surging; he unleashed Clear Wind Palm at full power, no longer holding back.

The palm struck with a low whistle, like a sharp blade; Fu Ang initially dismissed it—but when the blow landed on his arm, his expression changed; intense pain flared, as if a blade had sliced his skin.

Before Fu Ang could recover from shock, Lin Chen accelerated again, striking palm after palm; each blow forced Fu Ang to stagger back in pain.

This sight made the hardening disciples below gasp in disbelief.

Fu Shidi was retreating!

How was this possible!

Only Tie Xue Academy disciples could break Fu Shidi’s Iron Bone Art defense—no other disciple in the same realm could.

Four acupoints? Impossible. Five? Still impossible. Six? Maybe.

But this Clear Wind disciple clearly had only four acupoints—how did he do it?

Could it be… his Clear Wind Palm reached minor mastery?

Sixth palm… seventh palm…

As the target, Fu Ang’s masked face twisted in agony—each palm felt like a blade cutting him; the pain made him grit his teeth.

Shhh!

Seeing another palm coming, Fu Ang instinctively stepped back.

That retreat sparked uproar below.

A Zhenyue disciple had retreated—rarely seen.

The Zhenyue disciple, famed for copper sinews and iron bones, actually retreated?

Shameful!

Three Zhenyue disciples below wore grim expressions; luckily, their masks hid their faces.

Fu Ang stepped back, heard the crowd’s noise, and his face flushed crimson—he had shamed his academy.

But the blow landing on his body was excruciatingly painful.

“I’ll fight you to the death!”

As the opponent’s palm was about to descend again, Fu Ang suddenly roared, his entire body charging forward like a wild boar in full sprint.

Lin Chen blinked, what did that mean?

With the opponent’s speed, it was impossible he could have hit him.

Lin Chen shifted his body like a gentle breeze, evading Fu Ang’s direct charge. He was about to turn and strike back, but realized Fu Ang had not stopped—he kept rushing straight toward the edge of the arena.

Lin Chen’s hand hung midair: …

Fu Ang’s body crashed to the ground, yet inside he sighed with relief.

He did it on purpose!

He deliberately charged off the arena!

As a disciple of Zhenyue Martial Hall, being pushed back continuously was too humiliating; better to lose bravely than endure further torment.

Disciples of Zhenyue Martial Hall relied on their Iron Bone Art to charge headlong; the arena was so small, losing control of his momentum and falling off was understandable.

He didn’t lose to his opponent—he lost to his own recklessness.

(End of Chapter)