Chapter 44: Thunder Rumbles, Waves Rise

At dawn, the sky had not yet lightened.

Sha Lifei had long returned to his room, slept fully clothed on the bed, still clutching a wine jug, sprawled out snoring loudly.

Opposite, Wang Daoxuan sat cross-legged, eyes closed, meditating.

Within the small courtyard, darkness lingered, utterly silent.

Li Yan still held his horse stance, standing beside the war drum.

After yesterday’s nonstop practice through the night, he finally mastered the rhythm—the drum’s vibrations blending perfectly with the residual echoes of his true words.

But this was merely the foundation.

Only by making his body the drum and emitting the cloud-thunder sound could he truly enter the gate.

Yet he could not yet take this step.

A full day of intense focus and self-forgetting contemplation had drained Li Yan to his limit; his head felt foggy, exhaustion pressing upon him like death.

His eyes half-open, half-closed, as if already asleep.

His body had also reached its limit; the late-night chill had seeped into his bones, leaving both legs stiff and numb, swaying precariously, ready to collapse at any moment.

Yet Li Yan did not use the Great Luo Body.

He had endured this many times before.

Whether practicing internal arts or combat techniques, the hardest part was crossing that threshold.

Like long-distance running, only by repeatedly surpassing limits could one achieve unimpeded progress.

If he used the Great Luo Body now, it would naturally eliminate his physical discomfort—but it would be like giving up halfway, forcing him to start over.

So now, he waited for a breakthrough.

Finally, a sliver of pale dawn appeared on the horizon.

Morning light shattered the darkness, dividing the sky into blue and black.

This ray of light stirred a change in his foggy consciousness.

Now!

Without hesitation, seizing this moment, Li Yan lost himself completely, slamming both hands down while contracting his abdominal muscles, using the power of his diaphragm to exhale and shout:

“Hūn—!”

BOOM!

The drumbeat merged with the true word, echoing like thunder.

The war drum below cracked open from the vibration.

Li Yan felt his chest tremble; his entire body became the drum, every muscle, tendon, and organ quaking, a tingling numbness flooding through him.

The Divine Drum Cloud-Thunder Sound was finally accomplished!

Yet he was already at his last strength, unable to withstand the force surging straight into his organs—he felt a sudden tightness in his chest, sweetness rising in his throat, and collapsed straight to the ground.

The drumbeat was like a bolt of lightning, jolting everyone within a hundred meters awake.

“Ouch!”

Sha Lifei, fast asleep, jolted upright in terror, flailing his arms and legs, dropping the wine jug with a crash as he tumbled off the bed.

Wang Daoxuan also reeled, his meditation nearly disrupted.

“What’s going on? Did the earth dragon turn over?”

Sha Lifei rushed out, banging against the door.

Wang Daoxuan calmed his spirit and came to the courtyard to investigate.

Seeing Li Yan unconscious on the ground, Sha Lifei hurried forward to support him, while Wang Daoxuan bent down, attempting to feel his pulse.

“I’m fine.”

But at that moment, Li Yan had already stirred back to consciousness, waving his hand, a smile on his face: “Got any food? I’m starving…”

As he spoke, the Great Luo Body activated.

Minor internal injuries vanished instantly; his fatigue vanished completely.

…………

“Oh? Still got appetite to eat?”

When Zhang Shi came to the Dao Inquiry Hall, Li Yan was still eating, crouched on the threshold, devouring a large bowl of oil-poured noodles with cold-sliced beef.

The man clearly had no sense of decorum, clucking: “Then again, tomorrow’s life or death—who knows if this is your last meal.”

“Later, I’ll treat you to something good at Qingfeng Pavilion.”

“Keep it for yourself!”

Before Li Yan could speak, Sha Lifei sneered: “If you can’t speak properly, then shut up—haven’t you brushed your teeth in three years?”

“Heh, same to you.”

Zhang Shitong let out a cold laugh and slowly rolled up his sleeves.

Watching these two fools, Li Yan felt a headache coming and cut in: “Where’s the location set?”

“At the crossroads of Paifang Street, at the third hour after noon.”

Zhang Shitong, still mindful of gravity, grew serious: “It’s near the ferry dock, surrounded by brothels, gambling dens, and inns—full of martial types.”

“Looks like the Zhou family is confident—they want to kill you in broad daylight to vent their anger.”

Li Yan said nothing. “What are the rules of the arena?”

Zhang Shitong said gravely: “A wooden platform three zhang high. No weapons, no techniques—only bare fists and feet. Lose if you die or fall off.”

“How big?”

“Ten meters square.”

Li Yan scoffed: “Red Fist excels in agility; Monkey Fist is among its best. Why make the platform so small? Does Zhou Bai want to brawl head-on?”

Zhang Shitong nodded: “My father suspects the same. Zhou Bai joined the Dark Force last year—he’s stronger than you.”

“If you two dodge and trade blows, that’s not what Zhou Pan wants. Zhou Bai will likely overwhelm you with brute force from the start.”

“My father advises you to avoid his strength first—he’s still shallow, can’t sustain Dark Force in every strike. Wait until he tires, then strike suddenly—that’s your chance.”

“Hmm. Thank your father for me.”

Li Yan’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze calm…

…………

After delivering the message, Zhang Shitong hurried away.

This match had already changed flavor, bearing far more than just a duel.

The feud between the Li and Zhou families, discontent within the Divine Fist Society toward Zhou Pan, even behind-the-scenes struggles in Chang’an… in Xianyang, plenty wanted to see the Zhou family humiliated.

Zhang Shitong wouldn’t mention these things.

Li Yan, having lived two lives, could see them clearly—even these circumstances were exactly what he expected.

That death-match challenge wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment impulse.

When his father was alive, he often told him: reputation in the martial world matters—not just for empty glory.

This world has no qi, no one who trains for years in seclusion and emerges to sweep the land.

There are no figures like the Sweeping Monk. No matter how skilled your kung fu, lacking combat experience, you’ll still be outwitted by seasoned veterans.

As Wang Daoxuan said, even Daoist sects are the same.

No matter how gifted, one must see heaven and earth, see all beings, before seeing oneself.

Another benefit of fighting on the arena:

!.

In this martial world, reputation sometimes invites trouble—but in a way, it’s also a protective charm.

Of course, all this assumes he wins.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

Within the courtyard, the drumbeat sounded again.

But unlike yesterday, Li Yan had now mastered the Divine Drum Cloud-Thunder Sound.

The drumbeat merged with thunder, his chest resonating with the drum, each strike thunderous, each vibration piercing deep into tendons and organs, tingling like lightning.

He controlled the force, training gradually.

First, he feared the remaining drums might shatter.

Second, this method was violent—if he lost control, his tendons would suffer repeated internal injuries, forcing him to heal with the Great Luo Body.

No matter how precious, even treasures cannot withstand such waste.

The growth of Dark Force is not achieved overnight—it requires the patience of water wearing stone, coupled with the body’s slow, accumulated transformation, before one can command it with ease, turning and twisting at will.

Li Yan’s goal was to refine his technique as much as possible before tomorrow’s match, so he could deploy it at the critical moment.

“Overwhelm me with force?”

“Try it!”

After another round of training, Li Yan recalled the Zhou family’s plan, sneering inwardly, shifting his body and striking sideways with his right palm.

Thirty-Six Palm Strikes: Tyrant at Ease.

Boom…

He struck the stone water trough, sending it sliding half a meter sideways.

Only after it stopped did the water inside surge upward.

“Oh no, my fish!”

Wang Daoxuan’s face twisted in anguish.

But when he came to check, he was astonished to find that several red fish in the stone trough swam about merrily, unaffected by anything…

Outside the door, deep in the old alley.

A short man crouched in the corner; after eavesdropping on the drumming for a long time, he finally grew impatient and hurried away…

…………

“Drumming?”

Inside the private room of Yuhe Tea House, Yuan Qu raised an eyebrow.

“That’s right. He’s been drumming nonstop.”

The speaker was the very man who had been eavesdropping; he grinned obsequiously: “How would I dare lie to Brother Yuan? The neighbors say he’s been drumming since yesterday, right through today—no one knows what’s gotten into that boy.”

“Enough, enough, get out!”

A tall man beside him waved his hand impatiently.

His skin was dark, he wore a red robe, and a small cap adorned with flowers—he was Zheng Heibei, boss of the Iron Knife Gang.

After dismissing the scout, Zheng Heibei cast a sidelong glance at Yuan Qu and said gruffly: “Yuan, what do you think that boy is up to?”

“I heard he’s associated with a famous sorcerer—could he be trying to summon a spirit?”

“Heh, are you afraid?”

Yuan Qu sipped his tea and replied dryly.

Though they came from the same sect, they led rival gangs controlling east and west of Xianyang City, and had clashed often; their personalities only deepened their mutual disdain.

Hearing Yuan Qu’s mockery, Zheng Heibei snapped angrily: “Afraid? What do I have to fear? The one causing trouble is Meng Haicheng, that coward. If he’d told me sooner, I’d have killed the boy outright—no trouble now.”

I say, skip the tournament tomorrow—tonight I’ll hire a sorcerer to curse him to death!

The words were rash, but Zheng Heibei’s eyes remained coldly steady, fixed on Yuan Qu, as if trying to read something hidden.

Yuan Qu glanced at him and sneered: “What are you testing me for? Do you really think no one knows about that Jiangzuo sorcerer you’ve hidden away?”

“Your little schemes—how could they fool a real expert? It’s only because others respect our Master that they’ve turned a blind eye.”

And why did you provoke the Beggar Sect at the graveyard? Now that this has reached the tournament, any underhanded moves just make things worse…

“I don’t need your lectures!”

Zheng Heibei snapped back irritably.

Seeing this, Yuan Qu’s temper flared: “Zheng, don’t you dare stir up trouble now—I’m not helping you.”

He rose and walked to the window, hands behind his back, gazing outside and murmuring: “Remember—if that old bastard falls, neither of us will survive unscathed!”

“The waters of Xianyang run deep…”

Below them lay the crossroads of the Paifang Old Street.

Dusk was near; a group of carpenters worked busily, the towering tournament platform already taking shape, while curious onlookers packed the area in three layers inside and out.

Two fools laughed among the crowd:

“Third Brother, who do you think will win tomorrow?”

“Pfft, who cares who wins—as long as it’s exciting.”

“Exactly—better still if they spill their brains out…”

(End of Chapter)