Request for Monthly Votes …… Under the gaze of everyone around, Ye Chen took a step, slowly walking toward the metallic battle stage. Behind him, Ye Zhu, sitting weakly on the ground, slightly parted her lips, wanting to stop him, but no sound would emerge from her throat.

A hint of anxiety flickered in her eyes; having witnessed the confrontation with Leng Xue, she understood the chasm between them and worried Ye Chen would suffer the same fate.

Step by calculated step.

Ye Chen ascended the steps to the metallic platform, raising his head. His gaze, utterly devoid of emotion and chillingly cold, fixed directly on Leng Xue opposite him. He spoke in a frigid tone, "I challenge you."

The entire arena fell silent.

Leng Xue glanced down at him with disdain, one hand resting behind his back, and stated coldly, "You are not worthy yet."

Two beams of icy light flashed in Ye Chen’s eyes. He said grimly, "Do you dare, or do you not?" On the virtual battle stage, if the challenged party did not accept, those below were barred from rushing in to attack.

Everyone present was somewhat stunned, watching Ye Chen suddenly step forward. Although the preceding scene suggested some connection to Ye Zhu, no one expected him to openly challenge—no, this was clearly provocation—the third-ranked expert on the City Battle Skill Rankings.

Dare or not dare?

All eyes turned to Leng Xue, awaiting his response.

Leng Xue raised an eyebrow, casting a mocking glance at Ye Chen. He sneered, "What? Are you that little girl's boyfriend? Hah, fine, I'll give you a chance."

The invisible barrier before Ye Chen dissolved. He stepped onto the stage, his cold gaze locked onto Leng Xue. Between them, a display panel lowered, offering options for combat level and equipment selection.

"You choose whatever you like," Leng Xue declared arrogantly.

Ye Chen glanced at him dismissively, casually selecting Level 10. Immediately, both their physiques reached Level 10. As for weapons, he made no selection; dealing with someone like this required no armament.

This combat setting was entirely fair: Leng Xue had ceded the selection power to Ye Chen, allowing Ye Chen to pick both the level and weapons. Ye Chen chose the simplest setting: both Level 10, an unarmed contest.

Once selections were complete, there was a one-minute adaptation period.

Leng Xue, already having chosen a Level 10 physique, needed no adjustment. He glanced at Ye Chen, a sinister, cold smile curving his lips. "Don't worry, I won't let you die immediately. I will cherish you like I cherished that little girl—playing with you until you're utterly exhausted, and then tossing you off the stage."

The cold light in Ye Chen’s eyes intensified slightly, the bones in his fingers giving a faint crackle.

The sixty seconds passed swiftly.

The invisible barrier at the center of the metallic platform vanished instantly. Leng Xue let out a cold laugh, cracking his neck with a series of sharp sounds. Then, focusing on Ye Chen, his figure blurred as he charged forward.

Ye Chen’s gaze was like a blade, fixed on Leng Xue's eyes. He advanced step by deliberate step, steady and unyielding. Soon, Leng Xue was upon him. Suddenly, Leng Xue checked his forward momentum, his charging body halting abruptly—this powerful control astonished many spectators, drawing genuine admiration.

"Dragon Elephant Fist!"

Leng Xue roared, taking a step forward to close the distance to Ye Chen's sternum. He drew his eyes away from Ye Chen, focusing entirely on his fingers, his gaze guiding his fingers, his intention directing his fist.

Where the mind aimed, the fist would strike.

With measured steps—retreat, gather, advance—his expression focused and firm, he clenched his five fingers into a fist and struck violently toward Ye Chen’s face, the gust of his punch hitting directly toward the bridge of the nose.

Ye Chen noticed a faint orange dot glowing weakly on Leng Xue’s forehead—a warrior at the initial Orange-tier battle skill level. Facing the incoming punch, he raised a hand to parry. His wrist moved like a striking snake, coiling upward and twisting, catching Leng Xue’s hand. Then, Ye Chen stepped back slightly, sinking his weight, channeling all his strength into his palm—a push followed by a shockwave.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

With identical physical attributes, Leng Xue was forcibly driven back three full steps by Ye Chen’s maneuver. This was utterly unimaginable. The crowd, which had been cheering moments before, fell silent, as if throttled. The entire arena became deathly quiet.

No one had anticipated that Leng Xue, the Grandmaster of Fist Arts, would be forced back three steps by Ye Chen’s initial move.

From this single exchange, the difference in skill was immediately obvious.

Leng Xue’s expression flickered. He instantly discarded his initial contempt and regarded Ye Chen with newfound seriousness. His body trembled slightly as he mobilized the Qi and blood within, drastically increasing his strength. He strode forward, his hand chopping down like a blade straight toward Ye Chen's face.

Ye Chen again reached out to deflect, his wrist snaking around Leng Xue’s arm. This time, Leng Xue had learned his lesson and quickly retracted his hand. That chop was merely a feint; the true killing blow was delivered by his other fist, striking toward Ye Chen’s chest the moment the palm chopped out. A direct hit would instantly stop Ye Chen’s heart.

There would be no chance for him to struggle back up, unlike when dealing with Ye Zhu.

Ye Chen’s face remained frigid. The instant Leng Xue’s palm began to retract, Ye Chen’s fingers shot out, locking onto his wrist. With a wrench and a twist, he dislocated Leng Xue’s wrist. Then, without even looking, he extended his other hand upwards, warding off the incoming strike, his palm grasping Leng Xue’s other hand. He struck downward at Leng Xue’s elbow, then countered with a swift push.

Bang!

The palm Leng Xue had aimed at Ye Chen was bizarrely redirected back, smashing squarely against his own nasal bridge, shattering it instantly. Blood mixed with mucus streamed down his face.

Seizing the advantage, Ye Chen stepped forward, pivoting his body slightly to press close against Leng Xue’s sternum. Under Leng Xue’s look of stunned disbelief, Ye Chen drove his head forward again, targeting the injured nose.

Thump!

This impact carried considerable force. Leng Xue felt as if his nose was about to split apart. His head snapped backward, his mind buzzing momentarily, his consciousness momentarily lost. He had seen brutal fighting styles before, but he hadn't expected Ye Chen to possess such skill, using such a savage technique.

Ye Chen paid no mind to such concerns. Having been tempered on the brink of death, any part of his body could serve as a weapon. The moment his head struck out, his palm twisted, and he swiftly grasped both of Leng Xue’s wrists, reversing his grip and wrenching them backward until both joints were dislocated and snapped.

Ye Chen could have killed him instantly with a single punch, but he chose not to.

In a true confrontation between Martial Arts Grandmasters, three moves suffice to gauge the opponent's foundation before entering a life-or-death struggle; ten moves decide the outcome. Assassins are simpler: only one move matters.

Those who kill only ever need one move.

The crowd below gaped in astonishment, watching Leng Xue, the third strongest in the city, who moments ago held such a lofty position, be so effortlessly subdued.

Heavens, their physiques were identical!

As the spectators were still processing the shock, Ye Chen smoothly slid behind Leng Xue. His palms plunged into Leng Xue’s sides, his fingertips stabbing out, instantly striking the vital points of the "Shao Shang" (Lung Channel) and "Dai Mai" (Girdling Vessel) on both flanks. Leng Xue let out a wretched cry and, before he could counter, Ye Chen’s hands shot upward in a hugging motion, locking around his throat.

As he secured the throat lock, Ye Chen stabilized his stance and drove a knee sharply into Leng Xue’s lower back. A sharp crack echoed as Leng Xue’s lumbar vertebrae snapped clean in half. A searing, agonizing pain flooded Leng Xue’s brain.

"Ahhh…" A pig-slaughtering howl ripped across the entire venue.

Ye Chen casually flung Leng Xue’s body onto the ground and brought his foot down hard onto his ankle.

Crack!

Leng Xue's ankle was stomped out of its socket, bones shattering.

"Ahhh…" Cold sweat beaded on Leng Xue’s forehead. His eyes, fixed on Ye Chen, were filled with sheer terror. He dragged his elbows across the ground, attempting to crawl away. With one leg and both wrists disabled, and his spine broken, he was utterly useless. While his Level 10 physique prevented immediate death, any possibility of further combat was gone.

Ye Chen moved in a flash, appearing before Leng Xue. He grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head down onto the metallic floor with a thud. A patch of skin split open on his forehead, blood trickling down his cheek and dripping onto the battle stage.

"P-please, kill me…" Leng Xue saw the cruelty in Ye Chen's eyes and trembled, screaming hysterically.

Ye Chen replied coldly, "Didn't you want to torture me until I was exhausted?"

Leng Xue flinched internally. "I—I was joking…"

Joking?

The entire audience felt a sudden urge to die. How could that be considered a joke?

"How many times did you hit my sister? I will return it a hundredfold now!" A trace of ruthlessness entered Ye Chen’s eyes. He slapped down on Leng Xue's arm, shattering it, then seized his hand, gripping one of his fingers and crushing it ruthlessly.

One finger was reduced to bloody pulp.

Although the wrist was dislocated, the nerve endings still registered the sensation. Leng Xue let out a heart-rending, piercing shriek, nearly brought to tears by the agony. He tried to pull his hand back, but Ye Chen pinned him down completely, leaving him utterly immobilized.

"P-please, kill me!" Leng Xue wailed.

"Dying won't be that easy," Ye Chen stated coldly. "Why didn't you give my sister a quick death when you had the chance?"

Leng Xue trembled, "It was because she was too stubborn."

Ye Chen gave a cold laugh. He knew his sister’s temperament too well; she was like a bamboo shoot—unyielding. Since the beginning of the apocalypse, it had taken her only three or four days to fully internalize the world's drastic changes, proving how much silent effort and pressure she had endured.

Globally, which girl could manage dissecting zombies within three or four days? Forget women; even men lacked the courage to attempt it.

Yet Ye Zhu didn't need to attempt it; she could have simply hidden in a room.

But she had stubbornly followed along.

On the battle stage, as long as she hadn't lost consciousness, as long as she still drew breath, she would never concede defeat. Ye Chen was the same; as long as there was a sliver of life, he would never give up.

However, Ye Chen had noticed upon arrival that Leng Xue’s clothes were undamaged, while his sister was covered in wounds, showing Leng Xue clearly had the ability to knock his sister unconscious instantly or crush her throat to kill her quickly.

But he hadn't. All her injuries were superficial, none fatal.

"If you want sadism, then I'll give you sadism!" Ye Chen now appeared demonic, a chilling, heart-stopping arc bending his lips. He then grasped Leng Xue's other hand and proceeded to crush the fingers one by one. The inhuman, agonizing screams echoed toward the heavens, causing countless people below to feel their skin crawl with chilling dread.