Having suffered repeated setbacks at Leon Huang’s hands, Tyson Xu was already simmering with resentment. So as soon as the match began, he couldn’t wait to leap onto the arena.
He was pretty confident in his own strength. Before joining Pristine Way Sect, he’d only practiced a low-grade Yellow-tier technique. Because the method was weak, his cultivation was slow, and the true qi he produced lacked explosive force.
After joining Pristine Way, he switched to training the mid-grade Yellow-tier Iron-Body Training. Three years in, he’d pushed Iron-Body to its peak—just one step away from mastery and breaking into Qi-Refining tier six.
The true qi forged from Iron-Body Training boosted his physical defense. Compared to other disciples at the same level, his defenses were at least thirty percent stronger.
When it came to martial arts, he’d always trained with one-star moves. But just yesterday, the president taught him a two-star fist technique.
He’d only just learned it, since there wasn’t much time, but even so, a two-star technique could boost his attack power by fifty percent.
That’s why he was so confident about this fight.
Just thinking of Leon Huang’s hateful face made him want to tear him to pieces. Of course, sect rules forbade killing in the arena, but injuring was fine. He stared at Leon with malicious intent, wondering, "Should I just break both his legs? Or go for all four limbs?"
Heh, the show’s about to start!
As soon as the match began, every outer-sect disciple’s eyes turned to the stage.
"I wonder how many moves Leon Huang can last against Tyson Xu?" one disciple gloated.
"I bet not more than ten. I heard our president taught Tyson Xu a two-star martial skill!" whispered a Black Tiger Society insider.
A two-star martial skill, huh!
Several nearby outer-sect disciples looked envious. Normally, outer-sect disciples weren’t qualified for two-star techniques, but there were exceptions—if you paid big money, made major contributions to the sect, or placed in the Outer Sect competition, you might get one.
At the edge of the arena, Shawn Cheng—clad in a star-patterned robe—stood with several inner-sect disciples, watching the stage with a wry, cold look. (Author’s note: Correction! The one drawn by Leon’s roast meat was Evan Lin, not Shawn Cheng. Shawn is Victor Wu’s cousin.)
"Senior Cheng, it’s just a fight between two outer-sect disciples—why are you interested in such a low-level match?" one inner-sect disciple asked, puzzled.
"Just watch and you’ll see," Shawn Cheng replied, a hint of coldness and resentment at his lips. Leon Huang hadn’t just embarrassed him—he’d cost his cousin Victor Wu a shot at passing the outer-sect assessment. For that alone, Shawn wouldn’t let him off.
That’s why Tyson Xu’s challenge to Leon Huang was partly Shawn’s doing behind the scenes.
Right now, Leon Huang had already stepped onto the stage, facing Tyson Xu from several meters away.
"Kid, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. You make the first move, or else you won’t even get the chance to strike later!" Tyson Xu stared coldly at Leon.
"Heavenly Shit, you sure sound confident!" Leon Huang said with a big grin, not looking nervous at all.
"It’s Heavenly Soar!" Tyson Xu snapped, grinding his teeth. That smug look on Leon’s face was infuriating.
"Oh, look at my memory!" Leon slapped his own forehead and apologized, "I always mix up 'Soar' and 'Shit.' Sorry, must be because they sound so close."
"You little punk, you’re asking for it!"
Tyson couldn’t hold back anymore. He lunged at Leon, swinging his fist straight at Leon’s head.
He didn’t use any martial skills, but poured all his true qi into the punch. He planned to blast Leon right off the stage with one blow.
Wind from the punch whipped through the air, qi energy crackling. Tyson’s punch was powerful, but Leon just stood there, unmoving.
"Wow, Senior Brother Xu’s punch is fierce! Talk about domineering!" shouted one of Tyson’s fellow outer-sect disciples from below.
"Yeah, look at that kid—he’s so scared he’s frozen!" another disciple added.
Just as Tyson’s fist was about to smash into Leon’s face, Leon suddenly raised his hand and caught it—
Smack!
Tyson’s full-force punch landed in Leon’s palm like it hit a pile of cotton—completely absorbed, no impact at all.
Leon, cool as ever, teased, "Heavenly Shit, did you skip breakfast? Your punch is feather-light. Maybe grab a meal and try again?"
"No need!"
Tyson barked, then suddenly lashed out with his right foot—lightning-fast—aiming for Leon’s shin.
"One-star martial skill—Stabbing Kick! Senior Brother Xu’s Stabbing Kick is perfected. With that move, the kid’s leg is as good as broken!" someone shouted from below, explaining the technique.
Bang!
Tyson’s Stabbing Kick smashed into Leon’s shin with a heavy thud.
But before Tyson could celebrate, he was stunned to find that Leon’s leg felt like a steel pillar—no, several times harder than steel. The violent rebound made his whole leg ache, and to his horror, a surge of scorching, destructive true qi shot from the contact point into his right leg, burning his meridians.
"Aaaah!"
Unable to bear the pain, Tyson let out a miserable scream, trying to pull back.
But Leon’s palm was like glue—no matter how Tyson struggled, he couldn’t break free.
"Hey, that scream sounded like Senior Brother Xu!" one outer-sect disciple said in confusion.
"Courtesy demands reciprocity, Senior Brother Xu—now you take one from me!"
Bang!
Leon’s other palm slammed into Tyson’s chest.
Tyson screamed again, his body crashing to the edge of the stage. He struggled to get up, but couldn’t.
The whole arena went dead silent. A late-stage Qi-Refining tier-five like Tyson Xu had actually lost to Leon Huang in a single move. Unbelievable!
Especially Shawn Cheng, who’d been running the bets—his face turned ghostly pale, his legs nearly gave out. Six million taels in payouts? He couldn’t cover that even if he sold himself!
"Young Master is unstoppable!"
"Young Master is invincible in the Outer Sect!"
Wes and Tyson couldn’t help but cheer, and Evan Lin joined in—partly celebrating Leon’s victory, but mostly the silver, since they’d all placed heavy bets on him.
Suddenly, sharp-eyed Wes shouted, "Not good, that bastard’s trying to run—stop him!"
Evan and the others turned to see Shawn Cheng trying to slip into the crowd.
"Brothers, don’t let that turtle bastard get away—block him in!"
At Evan’s command, all seventy or eighty of Leon’s followers sprang into action. In just a few breaths, they’d cornered Shawn Cheng.
Leon stepped down from the stage and looked at Shawn with a playful smile. "Senior Brother Cheng, where are you off to?"
"I... I really need to pee!"
"Oh, you need to pee? I thought Senior Brother Cheng was trying to dodge his debt!" Leon sneered. He had zero sympathy for anyone trying to scam him out of silver.
"No way!" Shawn shrank back, looking nervous.
Leon nodded. "Glad to hear it. The match is over, so isn’t it time to pay up?"
Shawn handed over all the silver he had, face bitter. "Junior Brother Huang, this is all the silver I’ve got. Can you give me a little more time for the rest?"
"No can do! Before you took the bet, I asked if you could afford it—you never refused," Leon said coolly.
"Junior Brother Huang, I really don’t have that much silver! Please, just give me a little more time!" Shawn pleaded again, glancing over at Gavin Quinn, hoping for help.
Feeling Shawn’s gaze, Gavin Quinn sighed and stepped forward. "Junior Brother Huang, Shawn really can’t pay that much. You didn’t lose anything, so how about we just call it even? I, Gavin Quinn, will owe you a favor."
Leon shot Gavin a cold look and curled his lip. "Senior Brother Qin, I can’t accept that favor—it’s way too expensive. We’re talking about millions of taels here!"