Chapter 80: A Youth Rises from Humble Beginnings

The referee confirms identities and draws lots!

Lin Chen looked at the red dot on his long tally stick, his expression unchanged; but Lu Shuyu, seeing the red dot on Lin Chen’s tally, wore a look of regret.

When he saw Lin Chen’s first opponent was a disciple of Iron Blood Martial Hall with five open acupoints, Lu Shuyu exhaled in relief.

Lin Chen should win this match.

That way, he’d have the chance to defeat Lin Chen himself.

To prove to Instructor Chen that he deserved the Class-A status more than Lin Chen?

After drawing lots, one other person shared Lin Chen’s calm expression: Zhou Yu of Cloud Hidden Martial Hall, the only disciple in Group C with seven open acupoints.

Lin Chen had confidence in himself—he wouldn’t lose against anyone.

Zhou Yu felt the same: in this group, he alone was at seven open acupoints, while the disciples from Iron Blood Martial Hall and Thunder Mountain Martial Hall were still at five—the gap in realm could offset the gap in martial art potency.

Moreover, the disciples from Iron Blood and Thunder Mountain Martial Halls hadn’t even mastered their martial arts; they couldn’t fight across acupoint thresholds.

“Group C should be no surprise—Senior Zhou will surely win.”

Among the Cloud Hidden Martial Hall disciples, their expressions were relaxed—they were certain Senior Zhou would win.

Zhao Jingchuan stood among the Cloud Hidden disciples but subtly sneered: if Lin Brother weren’t in this group, Senior Zhou’s victory would be unquestionable—but with Lin Brother here, it’s uncertain.

Lin Brother defeated Fu Ang, and though he’s only at six open acupoints—one less than Senior Zhou—even Senior Zhou couldn’t guarantee victory over Fu Ang.

Thunder Mountain Martial Hall.

Fu Ang’s gaze kept drifting toward Lu Shuyu; nearby junior disciples noticed and asked curiously, “Senior Fu, is there something special about Lu Shuyu?”

For Senior Fu to pay such attention, he must be extraordinary.

“If this man is the one, then Zhou Yu might not win after all.”

Fu Ang’s expression turned grave: the Qingfeng Martial Hall disciple who defeated him in the Martial Garden—he was certain it was one of these three six-acupoint disciples, but he didn’t know which.

During the group selection, he had watched Qingfeng Martial Hall closely and noticed a small detail: Lu Shuyu had volunteered to join Group C.

To volunteer willingly meant he had sufficient confidence in his strength—he was very likely the one.

Though he’s one acupoint behind, Qingfeng Palm at minor mastery is enough to fight across one acupoint threshold; he had experienced its power firsthand and still felt uneasy.

……

……

In the training ground.

After the eight disciples drew their opponents, the first match was Zhou Yu, the seven-acupoint disciple of Cloud Hidden Martial Hall, against a five-acupoint disciple of Gusty Wind Martial Hall.

This match had no drama.

The Gusty Wind disciple never managed to unleash his Gusty Wind Leg technique—he was defeated by Zhou Yu’s third punch.

A two-acupoint gap was a chasm.

The second match: Lin Chen faced Tu Le, a five-acupoint disciple of Iron Blood Martial Hall.

At Qingfeng Martial Hall, when they saw Lin Chen step onto the field, Qi He’s eyes narrowed slightly: if Lin Chen unleashed his mastered Qingfeng Palm, it might draw criticism toward Qingfeng Martial Hall.

Chen Chunfeng’s gaze toward Lin Chen held anticipation; though Lin Chen hadn’t ultimately become a Qingfeng disciple, he still hoped Lin Chen would achieve greater mastery in Qingfeng Palm.

Lu Yongfeng, Zhao Jingchuan, and Cheng Ying all stared intently at Lin Chen.

Senior Lin shouldn’t lose against Tu Le, a five-acupoint disciple.

After all, Senior Lin had defeated Fu Ang, a five-acupoint disciple, back in the Martial Garden—Fu Ang had mastered Iron Bone Art, while Tu Le’s Iron Crash Fist hadn’t even connected properly.

“Iron Blood Martial Hall Tu Le, please instruct me, Senior Lin.”

Tu Le spoke politely, addressing Lin Chen as “Senior” according to realm hierarchy.

“Please.”

Lin Chen nodded and gestured for him to begin.

Nearby, Lu Shuyu sneered at Lin Chen’s gesture: the other called him “Senior,” and he actually started acting like one.

Lin Chen’s behavior also irritated many Iron Blood Martial Hall disciples watching.

“Tu Brother was just being polite—this Lin Chen actually thinks he’s a senior now.”

“Just watch—real proof will come soon.”

Seeing Lin Chen’s gesture, Tu Le didn’t hesitate—he lowered his stance like a volcano about to erupt, gathering boundless power.

The next instant, Tu Le struck.

A move from Iron Crash Fist: “Shatter Mountain, Split Rock”—his fist wind was fierce, as if tearing the air, faintly echoing like cannon fire.

“Though Tu Brother hasn’t mastered Iron Crash Fist, he’s close—this Lin Chen won’t withstand it.”

Zhang Qing, who had already won, murmured softly; his words were met with agreement from nearby disciples.

On the field, watching Tu Le’s fierce assault, Lin Chen remained calm, unhurried—only when the punch neared his face did he raise both palms, tracing elegant arcs in the air to meet the incoming fist.

Seeing Lin Chen’s move, many martial hall disciples wore smug smiles: to clash fists with an Iron Blood disciple, this Lin Chen must have lost his mind.

But the next moment, they realized something was wrong: after palm met fist, Lin Chen stood perfectly still, not moving an inch.

How was this possible?

Tu Le’s pupils shrank sharply—he felt his punch sink into water, his follow-up force utterly stifled.

“Iron Crash Fist is indeed powerful—but under my minor mastery of Water Cloud Palm, it’s completely suppressed.”

Lin Chen’s lips curled upward; he had no intention of wasting time on this Tu Brother—he unleashed a series of palms, like waves rolling one after another.

Facing Lin Chen’s second palm, Tu Le began retreating—he felt each block and parry as if a colossal tidal wave was crashing against him.

Water is soft!

But when water became a tidal wave, its power was beyond his capacity to bear.

Watching Tu Le stagger backward, many martial hall disciples gasped in disbelief at what they saw.

Lu Yongfeng, Zhao Jingchuan, and Cheng Ying’s eyes gleamed—this was Senior Lin’s true strength!

“Water Cloud Palm—mastered!”

Iron Blood Martial Hall’s deputy headmaster’s face darkened: Lin Chen was one acupoint higher, and his Water Cloud Palm was mastered—under this dual crushing advantage of realm and art, Tu Le had no chance to counter.

Chen Chunfeng’s face showed shock—he hadn’t expected Lin Chen to have also mastered Water Cloud Palm.

But soon, his expression cleared with realization: no wonder Jing Water Martial Hall offered Lin Chen a Class-A slot.

He’d been puzzled before—but now he understood.

Lin Chen’s talent with Water Cloud Palm was no less than with Qingfeng Palm.

Block it!

You must block it!

Can’t block it anymore…

Lin Chen’s third palm descended.

Tu Le felt his palm split open, his arm too numb to raise—he could only cry out, “Senior Lin, I yield.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to continue, nor was he afraid of pain—his Iron Crash Fist was built on brute force and speed.

Iron Crash Fist demanded velocity and power.

But when the opponent moved faster and struck harder, persisting only changed nothing.

Better to conserve strength and fight for a better ranking later.

“Your courtesy.”

Seeing his opponent yield, Lin Chen ceased his attack, bowed respectfully, and stepped aside, leaving the field for the next pair.

Victorious without arrogance, calm as drifting clouds.

Lin Chen’s demeanor earned him a flicker of admiration from other martial halls’ instructors and deputy heads.

Qi He smiled as well—Lin Chen had mastered Water Cloud Palm, so he wouldn’t use Qingfeng Palm in upcoming matches, sparing them unnecessary criticism.

PS: Volume One ends here.

(End of Chapter)