The small arena could not contain the battle between the martial artists. The organizers of the Rookie Tournament promptly rolled back the football turf in the center of the stadium, revealing the massive, solid reinforced concrete beneath. This was the stage the organizers prepared for the rookie martial artists: the standard football field, one hundred and five meters long and sixty-eight meters wide. The three gold-medal commentators were, at this moment, ushered to their commentary booths by the military personnel. As the saying goes, the experts watch for the substance, while the amateurs watch for the spectacle. Nearly every martial arts competition in the Federation invited eloquent individuals to provide commentary, igniting the fervor of the audience.
“Fight the battle you desire…” Jizhen Xuan Yi silently repeated Qin Fen’s words to himself. “What kind of battle do I truly want to fight?”
The loudspeaker announced Jizhen Xuan Yi’s name. He paused his internal questioning and looked up at the distant Little Dragon King, Yang Lie—one of the highest favorites to win this rookie martial arts event. The gloom he felt earlier was gone, replaced by a surging wave of heroic spirit.
Taking a deep breath, Jizhen Xuan Yi suddenly exhaled with a roar, issuing a long cry that was neither the growl of a tiger nor the bellow of a lion. The sound, piercing enough to cause temporary deafness, carried a fierce battle will that made the blood of the listeners churn.
The long cry made one feel the scorching heat rising from his entire body, his internal battle intent surging forth, devoid of any trace of dejection or timidity.
The cry not yet finished, Jizhen Xuan Yi tapped the ground, launching himself rapidly toward the center of the arena. Every stride was the most basic stance of the New Karate: the Kiba Dachi (Horse Stance), his body rising and falling as if truly astride a galloping steed.
The sudden surge in presence, while not earth-shattering, certainly elevated Jizhen Xuan Yi’s previously faint and weak aura significantly in an instant.
Jizhen Xuan Yi’s entrance captured the eyes and admiration of a large portion of the crowd. When the draw was first announced, many spectators believed this would be a lackluster fight, but they were now slowly beginning to change their minds. The impassive face of the Little Dragon King, Yang Lie, registered the faintest ripple of surprise.
“The airflow you expel while running already faintly suggests the neigh of a steed. Your foundation is much better than I imagined; I underestimated you on this point.”
Yang Lie looked at Jizhen Xuan Yi with faint admiration in his eyes. His tone was as casual as an elder chatting with a junior, holding no battle intent or outward display of force; his words carried the air of a senior guiding a novice.
The same age, yet vastly different attitudes. The one who radiated no aura at all, in stark contrast, exuded an imposing, almost divine presence.
Seizing the momentum!
Qin Fen narrowed his eyes to slits. Indeed, the martial arts segment of the Rookie Tournament was the main event. Little Dragon King Yang Lie must be extremely rich in combat experience; otherwise, he would never have managed to leverage a simple comment to immediately gain the upper hand and widen the psychological gap between them.
Jizhen Xuan Yi remained silent, studying Little Dragon King Yang Lie. This mixed-race fighter from the Americas possessed the broad bone structure and height of a Westerner. His one-ninety stature did not appear overly tall or aesthetically unbalanced. The fair skin of a Westerner, coupled with the smooth complexion of an Easterner, added an extra layer of beauty.
His features were sharply defined, complemented by a pair of sapphire-blue eyes. All the advantages of a mixed East-West heritage were embodied in him.
Beauty, too, is a form of power. Yang Lie utilized this power to its absolute zenith. In the audience stands, young women screamed as they watched Yang Lie’s calm confidence projected on the screen.
“The match bell is about to ring. Do you have anything left to say?”
Yang Lie stood with his hands clasped behind his back, perfectly calm, like an elder querying a junior.
“East Asian Rookie, Jizhen Xuan Yi.”
Jizhen Xuan Yi declared his name, then slowly drew his hands apart in front of and behind him. His feet began to separate slightly, knees bent a little. His right foot lifted until it was parallel to his left knee, the sole flat against the ground, toes pointed upward—the most basic stance of the New Karate: the ‘Kutsudatsu Dachi’ (Lifting Leg Stance)!
“Foundation, and it’s still the most basic stance of New Karate! What is going on? Has Jizhen Xuan Yi already conceded?”
The commentator could no longer contain his curiosity.
As professional commentators, the three had narrated hundreds of battles but had never witnessed anything as peculiar as this day.
Tens of thousands of spectators had the same puzzled thought: Didn't this rookie named Jizhen Xuan Yi know who he was facing? Under such circumstances, one would normally unleash their most ferocious finishing moves in hopes of creating a miracle.
A smile that could not quite be called a smile touched Yang Lie’s lips. Announce his name? If he had to memorize the names of every challenger, wouldn’t he die of exhaustion? He separated his legs into a wide, low horse stance, presenting the preparatory posture of the Lohan Fist to the crowd.
“Gymnastics Punching Technique? What is happening today? Is the opening match doomed to a dull start?”
The commentator’s voice shifted in tone, perfectly articulating the sentiment in the audience's hearts. A fighting style based on the Lohan Fist against the basic stance of New Karate—anyone could tell how tedious this confrontation would be.
Seeing Yang Lie’s expression, Jizhen Xuan Yi’s pupils suddenly contracted. That smile was clearly one of disdain. He had worn such a smile toward others long ago—a look of contempt for someone unworthy of having their name remembered by him.
The opening bell rang precisely at the moment the audience's excitement dipped.
Jizhen Xuan Yi snapped his knees, darting forward like a leopard, unleashing a straight punch—Kiba Dachi Chokken—of New Karate. The friction between his military uniform and the air made snapping sounds as he aimed directly for Yang Lie’s chest.
The Kiba Dachi Chokken was the most fundamental introductory punch in New Karate. While not sophisticated, it was more direct than complex offensive maneuvers. The simplest foundation is often the most practical. Jizhen Xuan Yi knew well that against a master like Little Dragon King Yang Lie, any of his fancy tricks would only invite ridicule. Rather than having his ultimate techniques easily broken and be humiliated, he preferred to fight in the most straightforward manner. The foundation of New Karate that Qin Fen had demanded he practice daily meant that when he attacked, there was no need for thought; his body reacted automatically.
Yang Lie remained motionless until the wind of Jizhen Xuan Yi’s punch brushed past his face. He suddenly twisted his ankle! The rotational force pulled his waist, causing his body to fold slightly as he slipped past the Kiba Dachi Chokken, appearing instantly at Jizhen Xuan Yi’s flank.
“Dragon Concealment!”
“Heavens! Dragon Concealment!” “Dragon…”
All three commentators cried out in unison. The previously listless audience suddenly had their eyes lit up like recharged bulbs, staring intently at Yang Lie’s movement, mouths involuntarily hanging open.
In previous years, the rookie martial arts competitions were a dizzying display of ultimate moves. Today, this Dragon Concealment, although originating from the Lohan Fist, was executed by Yang Lie as if he were truly a serpentine dragon gliding across the ground.
Qin Fen’s eyes also brightened. In all his time since his debut, this was the first time he had seen someone use the same Lohan Fist during combat.
Jizhen Xuan Yi, having endured days of hard training, possessed a significantly heightened martial sense. He immediately felt the chilling hostility beside him. Making a swift decision, he canceled the straight punch, transforming it into a knife-hand strike, drawing an arc in the air that instantly reached Yang Lie’s temple.
The combat style of New Karate was never about reacting to an opponent’s move; it always emphasized seizing the initiative. Thus, the bell sounded, and he attacked immediately.
This time, Yang Lie did not move his feet or sway his torso. His body suddenly shifted sideways as if an unseen wheeled platform beneath his feet were dragging him along.
Dragon Concealment! Still Dragon Concealment! Qin Fen began to understand why Little Dragon King Yang Lie was called the Little Dragon King. This second Dragon Concealment was clearly superior to the first; the true serpentine form within the movement was finally displayed.
Yang Lie moved behind Jizhen Xuan Yi. The arm hidden in his sleeve snapped out, whoosh! He delivered a punch toward Jizhen Xuan Yi’s heart, but before the palm could connect, the blast of air pressed his military uniform against his back, forming the distinct outline of a palm print.
Jizhen Xuan Yi ground his teeth tightly, his legs weaving rapidly as he charged like a warhorse. The chilling pressure on his back instantly lessened by a third; only the palm wind managed to strike his uniform, eliciting a sharp snap.
Yang Lie’s Qing Long Tu Yun (Azure Dragon Spitting Clouds) missed its mark, but he did not rush to pursue. Instead, he stood still, quietly watching Jizhen Xuan Yi, who had fled twenty meters before halting his movement.
In that brief moment of attack and defense, the audience no longer felt any boredom. Jizhen Xuan Yi’s performance far exceeded everyone’s expectations.
The commentators exclaimed in astonishment, “Marvelous, truly marvelous! In a lightning-fast exchange, Jizhen Xuan Yi did not suffer the anticipated swift defeat! Yang Lie’s calm composure has shown us what a master is. It seems this fight is truly worth watching.”
Cold sweat beaded on Jizhen Xuan Yi’s forehead. From the start of the exchange until now, Little Dragon King Yang Lie’s strength had consistently been capped at the peak of Four-Star level—Jizhen Xuan Yi’s current ceiling.
What appeared intense to others was executed by Yang Lie without employing his true strength.
Not being taken seriously? A sense of frustration welled up in Jizhen Xuan Yi’s heart. Did he not even possess the ability to make the opponent regard him seriously for a single instant?
Yang Lie stepped forward, as if strolling in his private courtyard, stopping within a ten-meter radius of Jizhen Xuan Yi. He spoke, “I hear you are Qin Fen’s disciple? I am somewhat curious about him. Just how strong is this rookie that he has time to take disciples while his own strength is still rapidly improving? I will give you one last chance to strike. You may use your full power and technique; I hope you can provide me with even a slight surprise.”
Yang Lie’s voice was not loud, but the small microphones installed nearby amplified it sufficiently through the loudspeakers.
Qin Fen? Tens of thousands of spectators turned their gaze toward the East Asian rookie seating area, eager to see the young man who had managed to draw Yang Lie’s attention.
Jizhen Xuan Yi looked at Yang Lie in silence. Frustration washed over him again, and a faint, bitter smile touched his lips. “So, the only reason I lasted this long wasn't my own strength. It was because I am Qin Fen’s disciple that I was shown leniency. Do I truly lack the qualification to even be acknowledged seriously?”
Jizhen Xuan Yi slowly closed his eyes, his internal Zhenqi slowly circulating. Scenes from his childhood martial arts training flashed rapidly through his mind.
The joy of becoming a formal disciple of New Karate, the pride of passing with a perfect score, the exhilaration of defeating his fellow disciples, the disappointment of being exiled by his master to the rookie camp, the shame of being unable to withstand a single punch from an American rookie, and the painful truth about the brutality of New Karate.
Joy, pride, exhilaration, disappointment, shame, pain…
These emotions converged. The image of Qin Fen in his mind began to shift from blurry to clear, finally locking onto that domineering punch from the past.
“Fight the battle you desire… Fight the battle you desire…” Jizhen Xuan Yi muttered with his eyes peacefully closed. “Just moments ago, I didn't know what kind of battle I wanted to fight. Now I know; my demand isn't that high. I merely wish to throw one punch—one punch just like Master’s.”
Yang Lie’s calm expression shifted slightly. A ferocious, almost bestial aura began to emanate from the Four-Star martial artist before him. The muscle in his drooping arm twitched faintly, seemingly on the verge of bursting through the skin.
Suddenly! Jizhen Xuan Yi’s eyes snapped open. A fissure cracked open in the reinforced concrete beneath his feet. He shot forward five meters in a flash. The impact of his foot striking the ground caused the concrete surface to crack into several pieces again. He shot forward another five meters. The high-speed movement created gale-force winds that whipped his military uniform like a banner in a storm, rustling loudly.
Two bursts of acceleration, two impacts on the ground—the resounding dong-dong amplified by the microphones and speakers sounded like war drums on an ancient battlefield.
Yang Lie’s formerly impassive face rapidly changed. How could a Four-Star martial artist elevate his aura to this extent? The concentration of power in this unthrown punch had already broken through the peak of Four-Star, something many Five-Star martial artists could not achieve.
Come forth! The punch I have longed for! The punch I will throw with everything I have! Even if this arm is permanently disabled after throwing it, please come forth!
The Zhenqi, pushed to its absolute limit, surged into his right arm like a massive Yangtze River wave. The muscle swelled instantly with a muffled bang! Jizhen Xuan Yi stomped both feet together, shaking the ground, while his left arm moved to his abdomen. His right arm swept up from beneath the inner side of his left arm in a straight vertical thrust—followed by bending the elbow so the point rested on the eye of the left fist—the Chong Tian Pao (Heaven-Piercing Cannon)!
The punch, charged to its apex, whistled audibly. The wind generated by the punch whipped Yang Lie’s uniform wildly, as if threatening to lift him into the sky.
Before the fist even arrived, the gusting wind alone made the face sting.
Facing this violent strike, a slight look of pleasure crossed Yang Lie’s face. He vibrated his body slightly, then swung his arm like the tail of a massive dragon, smashing the back of his fist squarely against Jizhen Xuan Yi’s Chong Tian Pao!
The Qing Long Shua Wei (Azure Dragon Tail Sweep) of the Azure Dragon Fist collided with the Chong Tian Pao, producing a dull thud, like a wooden stick striking cotton batting.
The collision of bone and muscle had not yet separated when a mist of red vapor exploded in the air, followed by a continuous series of sounds indicating hard objects shattering.
Jizhen Xuan Yi’s fist instantly turned crimson, and the fabric of his entire arm was instantly saturated with blood. Carried by the backward swing of his right arm, he stumbled back twenty-eight steps before regaining his footing. The arm, now dripping blood from his palm, was twitching uncontrollably and involuntarily.
Jizhen Xuan Yi’s rosy lips turned deathly pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead and cheeks. His eyes stared fixedly at Yang Lie, his chest heaving violently.
He did it, he did it! Jizhen Xuan Yi shifted his gaze to Qin Fen, a hint of happy smile gracing his pale lips. Although completely defeated after one punch, barely able to stand, he had truly thrown that dream-like punch that surpassed his peak.
The three seasoned commentators stared blankly at Jizhen Xuan Yi, momentarily forgetting their professional duties.
Yang Lie gently flexed the fingers of his hand to alleviate the faint numbness. How long has it been? Yang Lie concentrated, thinking hard. How long has it been since someone made my palm go numb?
Qin Fen slowly raised his arm, gently flicking his thumb upwards, his eyes conveying a smile of deep satisfaction. If Jizhen Xuan Yi hadn't thrown that punch with all his might, disregarding the consequences, he would have remained a mediocre martial artist his entire life. That single punch had opened his path as a true martial artist.
Jizhen Xuan Yi slowly raised his left hand and whispered, “I, yield.”
The smile on Yang Lie’s lips carried a faint appreciation. Yielding. This was not an easy thing to do. Many people, while internally conceding defeat, could never bring themselves to say the words. Yang Lie held such people in contempt. Saving face, and possessing an unyielding heart, were two entirely different concepts. The ability to take up a challenge and the wisdom to let it go—only people like this usually possessed a truly unyielding heart.
The synthesized voice echoed across the stadium: “Americas Rookie Number One wins; East Asian Rookie Number Two is defeated. Number One advances.”
Many spectators had not yet recovered from the shock of that final punch when Yang Lie approached Jizhen Xuan Yi. “Jizhen Xuan Yi, is it? Recover well. I look forward to our next duel.”
A smile lingered on Jizhen Xuan Yi’s pale face. The battle fought with his absolute utmost had finally caused his opponent to remember his name. His body swayed, and he collapsed onto the ground.
With the mental strain released, Jizhen Xuan Yi no longer possessed the strength to remain standing.
Doctors rushed over and lifted Jizhen Xuan Yi onto a stretcher. Applause then erupted from the spectator stands.
“Number Two! Well done!” “Number Two! Get well soon!” “Number Two! You were just unlucky, you clearly have the strength!”
Lying on the stretcher, Jizhen Xuan Yi listened to the encouragement from the crowd, and two lines of hot tears streamed down his face.
“Losing doesn’t mean zero. The most important thing is that I won a process,” Jizhen Xuan Yi murmured to the sky, his voice carrying a happy laugh. “Master, I’m starting to understand. I won a process.”
Yang Lie descended from the arena and sat quietly in his designated seat, replaying Jizhen Xuan Yi’s final, explosive Chong Tian Pao. If the disciple was this strong, what about the master?
“Please welcome Number Thirty-Two to the stage.”
The synthesized voice spoke slowly. Qin Fen, who had been seated, slowly rose, and at that moment, the focus of the entire audience shifted onto him.