Liang Tong did not expect Zhang Yan to suddenly let out a loud shout and throw his punch with such explosive speed, catching him off guard. His heart trembled, and his momentum faltered slightly. With a resounding "bang," Zhang Yan's heavy punch landed squarely on his nose, sending Liang Tong sprawling backward onto the ground.
When the others looked at him again, they saw him lying on the ground with a face full of blood, completely unconscious.
Zhang Yan pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped the blood from his fist. His expression remained unchanged as he calmly lifted his gaze to the remaining three.
These individuals gasped audibly, hesitating to advance while unwilling to retreat, leaving them awkwardly frozen in place.
Zhang Yan smiled faintly and said, "Come at me all at once."
The disciples of the Guangyuan Sect exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. Group combat was permissible within the rules of martial contests as long as the opponent agreed. Three years ago, Chen Feng had fought against multiple challengers, and no one would dare use underhanded tactics if he weren't willing.
The three exchanged a few quick words and devised their plan, then began slowly encircling Zhang Yan from the left, center, and right.
Zhang Yan remained motionless, fixating his gaze on the one directly in front of him, as though entirely unconcerned with the individuals flanking him.
The man in front dared not take Zhang Yan's earlier display of power lightly. Following their plan, he suddenly lunged forward, preparing to strike with his fist. His intent was to draw Zhang Yan's attention, providing his two companions on the sides with an opening.
However, as soon as he moved, Zhang Yan responded in kind—stepping forward and throwing a punch at his face.
This man had anticipated an attack and tried to block it, but to his dismay, Zhang Yan's punch carried immense power. Concentrating his strength at a single point, Zhang Yan's force overwhelmed the man's defense, causing his arms to weaken and scatter uncontrollably. Helpless, he could only watch as Zhang Yan's fist grew larger before his eyes, accompanied by a dull roar in his ears. Blood and teeth shot out of his mouth as he was sent spinning through the air.
By this time, the two other men from the sides hadn't yet closed in. Witnessing Zhang Yan dispatch their companion so swiftly, their morale wavered involuntarily. Zhang Yan seamlessly shifted his momentum by stepping into a powerful turn, pivoting to face one of the men on his side. Before the man could react, Zhang Yan struck the side of his neck with a sharp chop, causing him to stumble a few steps before collapsing to the ground unconscious with a heavy thud.
The last remaining individual, seeing the situation take a disastrous turn, wisely conceded and quickly declared, "I admit defeat!"
Zhang Yan maintained a composed expression and clasped his hands in respect.
Relieved, the man hurried off to summon several Daoist boys to carry away the injured brothers.
Though their faces were bloodied and the sight was gruesome, Zhang Yan had exercised restraint in his attacks. Combined with the fact that these cultivators had toughened physiques, including Liang Dong, the injuries were non-lethal. However, they would be unable to engage in combat for some time.
Shaking his head, Zhang Yan inwardly lamented their laughable combat skills, noting that they possessed raw strength but lacked the understanding to wield it effectively.
Zhang Yan recalled his previous life in the post-apocalyptic world, where the absence of firearms and munitions forced him to rely solely on rudimentary weapons to fight against mutated beasts. Trust was a luxury none could afford, as daily skirmishes over dwindling resources like food and water left blood-stained streets in their wake. In such a world, even sleep was fraught with the threat of betrayal.
As a prominent figure among the survivor camp's elite, Zhang Yan's combat proficiency wasn't merely honed—it was lethal in its simplicity. It emphasized ruthless efficiency, devoid of meaningless flair or excessive movements, aiming solely to end battles in the shortest time possible.
Now, fighting in this world for the first time, Zhang Yan felt invigorated. His mood soared, and the dormant battle instincts within him reawakened.
Just then, Ai Zhongwen emerged from the main gates of the mountain and couldn't help but cast a few scrutinizing glances toward Zhang Yan. He exclaimed in praise, "I never imagined Brother Zhang to also excel in the way of combat. It seems my earlier concerns were unfounded."
Zhang Yan shook his head and replied, "Combat is but a minor path. The Flying Sword and Dharma Treasures of Xuanmen are the true instruments of lethality."
Ai Zhongwen nodded in agreement but quickly cautioned, "The Guangyuan Sect specializes in talismanic scripts and spells. They are undoubtedly prepared for this encounter. Brother Zhang must exercise caution."
Guangyuan Sect's talismanic techniques were indeed remarkable, capable of boosting one's combat strength severalfold. However, crafting talismans was difficult and wasteful if used on Lower Court disciples. After suffering losses against Chen Feng during the last Dharma Assembly, there was a possibility they might resort to deploying them this time.
Zhang Yan laughed nonchalantly, saying, "No matter—soldiers block invaders, and water defends against floods. Besides, with you, Brother Ai, guarding the flanks and patching gaps, what is there to fear?"
Although Ai Zhongwen hailed from a noble family, he harbored the aspirations of a valiant hero. Otherwise, he would not have been so quickly swayed by Zhang Yan's words, stirred into an impassioned fervor to stand against the two sects. Upon hearing Zhang Yan's reassurance, his spirit surged, and he instantly nodded in agreement.
Of course, it wasn't entirely Zhang Yan's charisma that won Ai Zhongwen's trust—it was largely the influence of Zhang Yan's powerful background, which silently bolstered Ai Zhongwen's confidence in him.
What Ai Zhongwen did not realize was that Zhang Yan's decision to confront the disciples of both sects was far from being motivated by sect honor or impulsive bravery. Benevolent altruism was above all not in Zhang Yan's nature—he had ulterior motives.
After studying Chen Feng's experiences during the Dharma Assembly three years ago, Zhang Yan gathered that Chen Feng's cultivation level had been quite similar to his own at the time. Zhang Yan suspected Chen Feng had deliberately used these encounters to temper his Primordial Qi. Consequently, he persistently questioned Ai Zhongwen about Chen Feng's actions, refusing to overlook even the tiniest details.
Misinterpreting Zhang Yan's interest as admiration for Chen Feng's prowess, Ai Zhongwen patiently recounted everything he knew in exhaustive detail.
Upon hearing it all, Zhang Yan deepened his judgments.
On observing Chen Feng's conduct at the Nanhua Sect's Heavenly Gate Dharma practices, Zhang Yan learned Chen Feng had spent seven consecutive days sleepless and relentlessly challenging opponents. In the next seven days, he appeared utterly drained and barely holding on, then gradually regained his vitality, becoming more formidable with each battle. Finally, in the last seven days, Chen Feng radiated brilliance and unparalleled strength, surpassing his previous condition.
The transformations over the course of that month were utterly extraordinary and could only be described as mystical.
Afterward, Zhang Yan noted that upon Chen Feng's return to Cangwu Mountain, he soon succeeded in Opening Immortal Meridians and ascended to the Upper Court. Remarkably, he vaulted over the threshold of "Yuan Cheng Ruzhen." Zhang Yan boldly speculated that Chen Feng must have gained an immense benefit during that month, propelling his cultivation to new heights.
Nonetheless, Chen Feng's path was unique to him, and Zhang Yan couldn't replicate it entirely. Furthermore, the finer details regarding the process were unknowable. Yet with the Broken Jade in hand, Zhang Yan was confident he could uncover the proper method for refining Primordial Qi. If one attempt failed, he would try a second—if that failed, a third, then a fourth, until success came.
So, Zhang Yan waited while news spread that Liang Dong had been carried out of the mountain gates for treatment. The once-dormant disciples from all sects, who had been lethargic for days, were now abuzz with anticipation, sensing the spectacle was about to begin. Word of this soon reached the two sects stationed at the mountain's base, dimming their prior vigor.