Chapter 585

As for whether Zhang Jie voluntarily conceded?

Zhang Jie had promised to safeguard him; with his reputation, he would never break his word.

Moreover, as someone skilled at reading expressions and moods, he knew that behind Zhang Jie’s humble and gentle demeanor lay a proud heart.

Not arrogance born of self-satisfaction, but pride in his own cultivation and abilities, with absolute confidence.

How could such a proud man possibly surrender?

“Senior Brother Zhang!”

Seeing Zhang Jie withdraw his defense, the young Huang Ming Daoist grew frantic.

Neither the Celestial Master’s Mansion nor the Complete Reality Longmen Sect excels at body tempering!

“Relax, Senior Brother knows his limits.”

Giving Huang Ming a reassuring glance, Zhang Jie’s gaze sharpened,

and an invisible, intangible force—yet like a thunderclap cleaving the air—spread instantly,

engulfing the brute and the young adept wielding the dagger.

“What is this?”

The brute had barely time to register this thought before his eyes rolled back and he slipped into infantile sleep.

Without his control, his body tempering ceased automatically; his swollen form—once resembling a giant eight feet wide at the waist and eight feet tall—shrank rapidly.

Though still rugged, he now resembled a normal human size.

Then his body began to topple like a mountain collapsing or a jade pillar falling,

until Zhang Jie casually waved his hand, transforming a thread of true Qi into an invisible hand

that caught him and lowered him gently, preventing a face-first crash.

After all, Zhang Jie was kind-hearted.

Speaking of which, with the brute’s hardened physique, would he even bruise if he fell?

Speaking of it, with the hardened physique of a cross-linking master, would he really be scarred from the fall?

The dagger-wielding youth followed the brute’s fate a moment later, and Zhang Jie caught him too.

The dagger, deprived of his control, fell from the air and landed in Zhang Jie’s hand.

“What just happened?”

“Why did both of them collapse all at once?”

The crowd erupted in uproar.

Hadn’t they just been saying the advantage was theirs?

How could they suddenly fall into infantile sleep?

Only the reputation of the Celestial Master’s Mansion assured them they wouldn’t stoop to such underhanded tricks.

Otherwise, they might truly suspect these two contestants had conspired with the Celestial Master’s Mansion to rig the match.

“It’s the Power! That young Zhang Jie has mastered an extremely potent Power!

He used overwhelming Power to forcibly overwhelm and knock out the other two contestants!”

At that moment, a well-dressed old gentleman in a tailored black suit, his silver hair meticulously combed,

tall and lean, his face rugged yet bearing the marks of time,

still retaining traces of his former distinguished beauty, spoke solemnly.

“Power? What is that?”

Several young adepts nearby grew curious and clustered around him like they’d found their anchor:

“Old sir, could you explain what this Power is?”

Other adepts who hadn’t gathered nearby also strained to listen,

curious about Zhang Jie’s ability to knock opponents unconscious without even moving a finger.

“Though the modern adept world still has the Quanxing demons scheming in the shadows,

it’s nothing like the turbulent past—it’s relatively peaceful now.

With fewer conflicts, you youngsters naturally don’t know what Power is.”

The old gentleman sighed and explained: “Have you heard the saying ‘cultivate Power through battle’?

It means an adept, before challenging another of similar strength,

fights other adepts to build combat resolve and strengthen confidence in victory.”

“Each victory makes the Qi within flow and circulate more smoothly,

and some Qi unconsciously leaks out, swirling around the body.

This leaked Qi carries the master’s absolute belief in winning,

exerting invisible psychological and physiological pressure on the opponent.”

The young adepts listened with blank stares, their minds drifting far away.

For some reason, as soon as the old man began speaking, drowsiness washed over them like a tide,

as if back in class, listening to a teacher explain concepts—only dazed and sleepy.

The old man observed their expressions and silently sneered.

The adept world truly declines with each generation!

Yet seeing the few young adepts still awake, their eyes alight with curiosity, he continued:

“Ding Jiang’an is the most typical example of this.”

“Among the two heroes, Ding An is the most typical example in this regard.”

The name instantly struck a chord with the young adepts, snapping them awake.

The Three Supreme Masters—everyone in the adept world knew this concept,

representing the three peerless masters at the pinnacle of combat strength.

The Celestial Master was too old, too revered, and hadn’t fought in years;

his admirers were mostly middle-aged and elderly adepts who had been humbled by him.

These younger generations respected him from afar but felt no closeness.

The Two Heroes were different—they were more active, more popular among the young,

and these youths hoped one of the Two Heroes might one day surpass the Celestial Master,

proving a new era had arrived.

Especially Ding Jiang’an—many young adepts believed

this battle-obsessed man would one day topple the Celestial Master himself!

After all, he was the kind of man who joined Quanxing,

branding himself a demon hated by all, just to force reluctant opponents to reveal their true strength

and thereby verify and pursue higher power.

A man so ruthless toward himself—how ruthless could he be toward others? It was unimaginable.

Yet despite being a Quanxing member, Ding Jiang’an had earned their admiration because, unlike other members,

he was not evil—he possessed excellent character, skill, and reputation.

He was a martial fanatic, obsessed with the Dao of combat, a madman devoted solely to martial prowess,

highly respected in the adept world where strength ruled, with many middle-aged and young adepts as his followers.

Seeing the young adepts’ excitement rise, the old man continued:

“Before Ding Jiang’an challenges a stronger opponent,

he usually defeats other fighters to cultivate his Power.”

One particularly curious young adept scratched his head and pressed:

“But Senior Brother Zhang didn’t seem to have accumulated Power beforehand.

And according to you, Power is just a buff for oneself and a debuff for the enemy—it shouldn’t knock someone out cold like that.”

Though he didn’t fully grasp the young adept’s terms “buff” and “debuff,”

the old man guessed his meaning: “Don’t rush—I’m not done yet.”

“Ordinary Power doesn’t produce the effect seen with young Zhang Jie,

because Power is merely a small amount of Qi that leaks out unintentionally.

Unless there’s a vast gap in cultivation, such minor Qi pressure wouldn’t knock anyone unconscious.”

“Zhang Jie’s case must involve a technique that directly channels his internal Qi,

transforming it into pure pressure—only then could he knock opponents out.

One is deliberate activation; the other is accidental leakage—the difference is immense.”

The young adepts fell into thoughtful silence:

“So Senior Brother Zhang isn’t as strong as we thought—he just mastered a technique to suppress with Power?”

The old man said nothing.

Today’s youth don’t just decline generation by generation—they’ve lost not only knowledge but also common sense.

Even if one masters a technique to suppress with Power, how could one knock someone out unless one’s cultivation was sufficient?

Not to mention Zhang Jie’s demeanor—he looked utterly relaxed, clearly not even trying his full strength.

Even if one possesses the ability to overwhelm with momentum, how could one knock a person unconscious without sufficient cultivation?

Not to mention Zhang Jie’s demeanor, which was effortless, clearly not even pushing himself to his limit.

Yet, this boy had been seen before—not uncommon,

merely ordinary, utterly unremarkable among the current generation of disciples of the Celestial Master’s Mansion,

how had he suddenly acquired such extraordinary cultivation?

The old man gazed at Zhang Jie, standing calmly in the courtyard, and a wave of doubt arose in his heart.