Lan Hao exhaled deeply, locking eyes with Yu Xuan, who had already created distance between them.
His Fist Intent still gave him the edge in raw offensive power, but Yu Xuan’s defense was far more solid uncomfortably so.
And in contrast, Lan Hao knew his own defenses were lacking. If this dragged on, the tide would inevitably turn.
More importantly, he couldn’t maintain Fist Intent indefinitely. It demanded intense focus, mental clarity.
’If I wait, I’ll lose. I have to end it now.’
With that resolve, Lan Hao drew a long breath. His muscles coiled like compressed springs — his veins pulsing, his bronze skin glowing faintly with spiritual light. And then—
He vanished in a blur, dashing toward Yu Xuan with a sudden surge of speed that shocked the crowd.
Yu Xuan’s expression didn’t waver.
He’d learned countless martial arts forms under his father’s brutal guidance. His body remembered every stance, every flow, every strike.
Once, he’d even reached enlightenment during a session — and his martial technique had begun weaving all techniques into a seamless, adaptive flow.
So when Lan Hao’s fist rocketed toward him, Yu Xuan shifted naturally, his movement fluid and precise.
A half step to the left, and the fist whistled past his temple. Another jab came for his ribs — Yu Xuan twisted his torso and parried it with the back of his forearm.
The exchange ignited into a blur of motion.
Blow after blow rained down like a storm. Lan Hao was a relentless aggressor, fists imbued with Fist Intent gleaming red with every strike. Each one could shatter stone, yet none found their mark cleanly.
Yu Xuan weaved through the assault like a leaf in wind — agile, calm and unshaken. His footwork never faltered. Every step, deflection, or subtle redirect turned deadly intent into harmless force.
To the untrained eye, it looked as though he was dancing through chaos.
To the trained, it was terrifying.
He wasn’t winning by strength or power.
He was outclassing Lan Hao in sheer skill.
Still, he didn’t counter.
Because Yu Xuan was learning. With every movement Lan Hao made, he was reading him. Studying the rhythm, the timing, the way he loaded weight before each strike, the exact moment his intent flared. It was all information.
At this time his trait [Adaptive Mind] was fully active, doing the work in background.
The normal disciples in crowd could hardly keep up. Only the experienced cultivators watching understood what was truly happening.
"He’s adapting..." someone said.
And in the arena, Yu Xuan’s eyes sharpened.
His white robes had chattered black some where mainly due to the fire energy in his opponent’s fist intent contained.
Lan Hao was fast. Strong. But now slowly with time he was becoming predictable.
The next phase of the battle had arrived — and Yu Xuan was ready to turn the tide.
Lan Hao, reading the rhythm of the fight, had already noticed the shift. His attacks were no longer connecting, and his opponent’s eyes were locked onto him with a terrifying focus. That unwavering stare made him raise his guard even higher.
But instead of frustration, he grinned. Not every day did he get to push himself to the edge . This wasn’t just a match anymore, it was exhilarating.
With a shout, he surged forward again, this time unleashing a barrage of punches, faster and heavier than before. His momentum surged like a rising tide, and then, he saw an opening.
He saw it — a slight tilt in Yu Xuan’s stance and immediately struck. His fist shot forward like a cannon.
But instead of the soft target he’d expected, his knuckles slammed into another fist, hard as steel. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕·𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎·𝚗𝚎𝚝
The collision sent a jarring force through both of them. They staggered backward simultaneously. A faint scratch appeared on Yu Xuan’s fist, a small, almost insignificant injury, but the moment his eyes caught sight of it, something shifted.
For a heartbeat, his eyes turned entirely pitch black, dark and bottomless, like a black hole from which even light cannot escape. Then, just as quickly, they returned to his normal black color.
No one in the crowd noticed it.
Lan Hao, on the other hand, winced in pain. His knuckles throbbed as if he’d punched a stone wall. That guy’s body was... monstrous.
But retreat was not in his nature.
Yu Xuan, too, dropped his usual calm and took a step forward. His movements became sharper, swifter, a blur that weaved between crimson fists. And then he struck.
His counterattack was brutal and direct, slamming into Lan Hao’s guard and sending him skidding backward, almost off the platform. Lan Hao’s eyes widened.
He’d been holding back?!
Yu Xuan didn’t give him time to dwell. He appeared before him in a flash and launched another attack. Lan Hao rolled to the side, barely dodging.
The place Yu Xuan’s fist landed cracked deeply, spiderwebs of fractures spreading across the surface. The platform dented like a drumhead struck by a hammer.
Another platform ruined. This one had lasted less than thirty three matches, a new record.
They exchanged several more blows, each faster and harder than the last, until finally, both fighters seemed to understand — it was time to end it.
Lan Hao took a deep breath and lowered his stance, gathering every ounce of qi and strength into his body. A red light flared around his fists. He charged forward, roaring, and threw a full powered punch straight at Yu Xuan’s abdomen.
Yu Xuan didn’t retreat.
Instead, he stepped in and punched Lan Hao clean across the face with all his might.
The impact echoed through the entire arena.
Yu Xuan slid back a few feet.
He flew backward like a meteor and crashed onto the stage — unmoving.
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Yu Xuan exhaled, the last punch hurt him a bit, as he had taken it with his body.