Chapter 90: The Poor Clan

Kong Yinglei’s voice rang strong and clear, and all eyes in the crowd turned to her.

Among ordinary civilians and students from every town’s martial hall, they saw Kong Yinglei’s fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening from the force, her chest heaving violently, revealing her furious inner state.

Yet Kong Yinglei’s gaze was utterly resolute, her posture upright like a resilient white poplar, standing proudly in the arena, moving the onlookers deeply.

The Wuzhengsuo official in charge of the match kept twitching his lips, his eyes shifting toward Su Lingchuan; when he saw Master Su give a slight nod, he understood and announced loudly:

“Vice Director Kong, please don’t misunderstand—Jiang Qing faces Lin Chen because your martial hall’s two students are competing for first and second place; the other three students, knowing they cannot win, voluntarily withdrew from contention for first.”

Kong Yinglei was satisfied, a smile appearing on her face as she bowed her fists. “My apologies—I misunderstood.”

Misunderstanding?

Kong Yinglei, do you even have a shred of shame?

The vice directors of the other seven martial halls wore faces as dark as charcoal; Qi He’s expression didn’t change at all—his face was already black, so it couldn’t get darker.

“It was right for Chen’er to join Jingshui Martial Hall—under a hall director like this, Chen’er won’t suffer any injustice.”

Lin Mu’s gaze toward Kong Yinglei was filled with gratitude; beside her, Lin’s father nodded in agreement—he felt the same way.

The other civilians were stunned by the Wuzhengsuo official’s explanation.

The two students from Jingshui Martial Hall were so powerful that students from other halls had voluntarily given up.

Is Jingshui Martial Hall really this strong?

Many young boys and girls now felt a new thought stir within them: train martial arts, join Jingshui Martial Hall!

Even students from wealthy families were affected—how many wouldn’t want to join a martial hall with a vice director bold enough to argue with the Wuzhengsuo for the students’ sake?

And the two on the stage had already proven Jingshui Martial Hall’s strength and depth.

On the arena, Lin Chen and Jiang Qing exchanged a smile, unaffected by Kong Yinglei’s maneuver.

“Younger Brother Lin, Sister thought this match would be dull, but you’ve given me a pleasant surprise.”

“I never expected to reach this point—before the match, I never imagined I’d face Senior Sister Jiang.”

Lin Chen spoke from the heart—he still felt deeply grateful to Senior Sister Jiang.

Had Senior Sister Jiang not struck out at Zhou San that day, teaching me the lesson of cutting the root and not just the branch, I would never have obtained the scroll inscribed with martial will, my Clear Wind Palm would never have reached perfection, and I would never have opened seven acupoints.

With Clear Wind Palm perfected and six acupoints opened, I might have contended for top five, but even top three would’ve been risky.

“Younger Brother Lin, I won’t hold back.”

“I’ll give it my all.”

Both made clear their stance: they would not spare each other just because they shared the same hall.

The atmosphere in the crowd surged to a fever pitch with their words, every eye fixed on the arena—this duel between the two strongest talents of this year’s new students from the eight martial halls.

In past new-student matches, rankings were often disputed, because the gaps between competitors—especially among the top eight—were never large, and placement often involved an element of luck.

But this year, even Gu Shan and the others had to admit: they had fallen far behind Jiang Qing and Lin Chen.

Jiang Qing, dressed in green, stood tall, radiating a powerful aura.

“Younger Brother, be careful.”

As her words ended, Jiang Qing moved like lightning, closing the distance instantly, her right hand forming a palm strike; the sound of surging waves layered one upon another, like a tidal wave crashing toward Lin Chen.

Crack!

Lin Chen countered with his own Clear Wind Palm; the perfected version made no sound, yet no one in the crowd dared underestimate this strike.

Their palms collided, and Lin Chen retreated half a step.

It seemed that even with perfected Clear Wind Palm, I still couldn’t gain the upper hand against Senior Sister in raw power.

Opening nine acupoints isn’t merely two more open than seven—it’s a leap across a minor stage.

But perfected Clear Wind Palm doesn’t just boost my strength—it enhances my combat technique.

In martial duels, power and speed matter, but timing and precision of technique matter just as much.

Abandoning brute force, Lin Chen fully leveraged the advantages of perfected Clear Wind Palm; the crowd now saw countless palm shadows dancing across the entire arena.

They traded blows rapidly, the pace of battle so swift that ordinary civilians could no longer make out their movements.

Meanwhile, martial hall students like Gu Shan watched, utterly entranced—this duel was breathtaking.

Jiang Qing’s speed and power were terrifying: even from several zhang away, they could feel the immense energy in her Water Cloud Palm.

Lin Chen’s Clear Wind Palm flowed like a celestial horse galloping through the sky—effortless, seamless, each strike a masterful brushstroke, like the final dot on a painted dragon.

“Watch this battle closely—how much you understand is up to you.”

On the Clear Wind Martial Hall side, Chen Chunfeng, even now, still bore the duty of a trainer, reminding his students behind him.

“Younger Brother Lin, I must admit your perfected Clear Wind Palm puts great pressure on me—next, if you can withstand these three strikes of mine, I’ll concede.”

Jiang Qing’s voice echoed across the arena as she stepped back, but Lin Chen followed like a shadow, closing in again, launching another Clear Wind Palm.

Though he’d had little contact with Senior Sister Jiang, Lin Chen believed he understood her nature somewhat.

When Senior Sister Jiang said this, she certainly wasn’t going easy on him, giving him three chances to win.

What she meant, translated plainly, was: you won’t survive these three strikes.

If so, he wouldn’t give her the time to fully execute them.

Seeing Lin Chen immediately close in, Jiang Qing’s eyes widened in disbelief for the first time—Younger Brother Lin truly… was incredibly composed.

On the left spectator zone:

Su Lingchuan and He Ruyun exchanged glances—they knew Jiang Qing’s background and could guess which three strikes she was about to unleash.

But how had Lin Chen figured it out? How did he know not to give her the chance?

If Lin Chen didn’t know Jiang Qing’s origins, then this boy wasn’t just gifted in martial technique comprehension—he possessed an exceptionally calm mind.

The more they watched Lin Chen, the more satisfied they became.

On the arena, Jiang Qing tried several times to create distance, but Lin Chen was too cunning…

Yes—for the first time, Jiang Qing thought in her heart: Lin Chen was cunning.

Though she was at nine acupoints, Lin Chen’s Clear Wind Palm struck with such force she couldn’t ignore it; crucially, while her overall speed and power surpassed his,

in terms of palm-strike speed, she was actually slightly slower than him.

This meant she’d barely begin her move, and Lin Chen would counter with perfect timing, forcing her to alter her technique.

This fighting style was unbearable.

For the first time, Jiang Qing felt empathy for someone else—she now understood exactly how Hong from Clear Wind Martial Hall must have felt.

Every move was anticipated, every strike preempted—had Lin Chen dared to clash with her directly, she would’ve lost long ago.

Compared to Jiang Qing’s frustration, Lin Chen grew increasingly exhilarated.

He’d finally realized: perfected Clear Wind Palm only reached its full potential when facing opponents stronger than himself.

As for Shao Hong—he might be one acupoint higher, but he didn’t count as truly stronger.

Facing Senior Sister Jiang, he could unleash Clear Wind Palm without restraint; though perfected, it didn’t mean his combat technique with it had reached its limit.

Senior Sister Jiang was his whetstone.

At this moment, Lin Chen had forgotten this was the most important match of the three-month martial hall competition—the battle for first place.

He was entering the zone.

This strike—this is how it should be delivered!

If I could lower this palm by just three inches, I’d land it with decisive effect.

The entire arena fell utterly silent.

The civilians were completely absorbed by the brilliance of the fight, forgetting to chatter or cheer.

The martial artists and students from all halls were stunned by what they saw.

Jiang Qing, at nine acupoints, was being dominated by Lin Chen.

Can a perfected technique really be this terrifying?

At this moment, many students burned with passion; previously, they’d only sought to keep up with their techniques, but now many silently vowed: after this, they’d train their techniques relentlessly.

In the front row of the left zone, an old man frowned, his tone uncertain: “Perfected Clear Wind Palm alone shouldn’t have pushed Jiang Qing this far.”

These people in the front row were all ranked martial artists, each having perfected their own techniques—but they’d reached perfection only after entering the Internal Organ stage.

So whether a perfected technique could let a seventh-acupoint martial artist defeat a ninth-acupoint one remained speculative—no one could say for sure.

Among the crowd, Yan He’an stood among ordinary civilians, his eyes gleaming: “Could Lin Chen be the one Elder mentioned—the one born with exquisitely refined senses?”

Among martial artists, there existed a rare few whose five senses were naturally sharper—not enhanced by cultivation, but innate.

Such individuals could perceive subtle movements in their opponents, predicting their attacks, striking first after the opponent moved.

“Jiang’s girl is going to lose.”

Yan He’an already knew the outcome—he turned and walked out of the crowd. The moment he stepped beyond the onlookers, Jiang Qing’s clear voice rang out across the arena:

“Enough!”

Lin Chen, caught mid-flow in the heat of battle, narrowed his pupils—but his hands didn’t stop; instinctively, he feared a trick.

But when he saw Jiang Qing’s resentful gaze, he suddenly realized: this wasn’t a life-or-death duel, and in front of so many witnesses, she wouldn’t lie.

Lin Chen withdrew his strike, then noticed: her bangs clung to her forehead, beads of sweat visible on her skin.

Jiang Qing looked at Lin Chen helplessly—not that she couldn’t keep going, but unless one side collapsed from exhaustion, neither could win.

Such a victory wasn’t what she wanted.

At nine acupoints, two higher than him, to win only by outlasting him—her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Thank you, Senior Sister Jiang, for your mercy.”

Lin Chen immediately bowed his fists; the moment he did, the crowd erupted in a thunderous roar.

Lin Chen won!

After several rounds of watching and talking, the civilians now knew: Lin Chen was the only student from a town—or more accurately, from a village.

The victory of a fellow student of equal status filled them with a sense of shared pride and excitement.

“Chen has won!”

Lin Mu excitedly embraced Lin Jiang, who carefully held himself upright to avoid being knocked over by his wife, his face beaming with joy.

“Chen has won—no surprise, he’s my Lin Jiang’s son!”

In his excitement, Lin Jiang uttered a bold remark.

But Lin Mu was too absorbed to argue; the entire area of Linhu Village erupted into cheers.

“Tomorrow, have Lin Chen come to the Wuzhengsuo. For today, let him celebrate properly,” Su Lingchuan said, turning to his attendant.

Su Lingchuan knew it was inappropriate to summon Lin Chen now; this match, watched by the entire city, needed its final moment of jubilation.

Su Lingchuan and He Ruyun departed, followed by the martial elites behind them.

Though none greeted Lin Chen, each had their own thoughts—upon leaving, their first task would be to uncover Lin Chen’s origins.

The students from the various martial academies began to disperse; today’s contest would be etched in their memories.

“Lin Chen, you don’t need to return to the academy today—go home with your parents.”

Kong Yinglei, seeing Lin Chen’s gaze toward Linhu Village, kindly added this instruction, then led the Jingshui Martial Academy’s students away with confident strides.

As the crowd dispersed, the government office officers and soldiers maintaining order also left, but Lin Xiuyong now frowned deeply.

Lin Chen’s victory stunned him, but what troubled him more was that the two letters had still not been found.

This was a task entrusted to him by Lin Young Master—if he failed to find those letters, how could he explain himself to Lin Young Master?

“Captain You, I have something to report to you.”

After much deliberation, Lin Xiuyong finally approached You Siqi, who was preparing to leave, and carefully recounted the matter.

“Don’t bother looking for those two letters.”

Seeing Lin Xiuyong’s puzzled expression, You Siqi said with deep implication: “Not long ago, someone turned in two letters to the government office, but they were already taken by the Wuzhengsuo. Just inform Lin Young Master of this.”

“Taken by the Wuzhengsuo?”

Though puzzled, Lin Xiuyong was no fool—he saw the look on Captain You’s face and knew there was something hidden; when the Wuzhengsuo and Lin Young Master were involved, it was no business for a lowly man like him to meddle in.

(End of Chapter)