What Would You Do If An Ugly Woman Asked You To Dual Cultivate?-Chapter 51: Breast Seeking Palm

The tournament continued, match after match whittling down the contenders. The midday sun cast long shadows over the coliseum's stone stage as another battle concluded, the defeated contestant staggering off while the victor basked in the roaring cheers.

Then, the referee's voice rang out.

"Eighty-third match of the elimination round: Yang Hao versus Luo Meiying!"

Yang Hao's gaze flicked toward his opponent as she stepped onto the stage.

Luo Meiying was tall and willowy, her long black hair tied in an elaborate braid that swung behind her as she moved. Her robes clung tightly to her slender frame, the dark silk patterned with intricate silver vines that shimmered under the light. But what caught his attention most was the faint, sickly green sheen coating the curved dagger in her hand.

Poison.

She wasn't hiding it either. She twirled the blade between her fingers with practiced ease, a confident smirk tugging at her lips. "You should surrender now," she called out, her voice a lilting melody. "A single cut, and you'll be convulsing on the ground in agony."

Yang Hao stepped onto the platform, hands still tucked in his pockets. His expression remained impassive.

Weapons, poisons, talismans, and pills are all allowed in this competition, As long as they're only Mortal Level, of course.

Knowing this, Yang Hao had already skimmed the list of approved items before the tournament began. Luo Meiying's poison might be dangerous to some, but to him, it was nothing more than an annoyance.

The gong sounded.

Luo Meiying struck first, her dagger a blur as she lunged forward. The faint, acrid scent of her poison filled the air as she aimed for his neck, a precise, lethal strike.

Yang Hao didn't even dodge.

His hand shot up and pinched the tip of the poisoned blade between his fingers. Luo Meiying's eyes widened in shock as she tried to yank it free—but his grip was unyielding.

"Poison?" Yang Hao murmured, tilting his head as if inspecting a dull blade. "Is this supposed to impress me?"

With a flick of his wrist, he wrenched the weapon from her grasp and casually flung it behind him. The dagger clattered against the stone floor, its poison useless without a wielder.

Luo Meiying took a step back, stunned.

The crowd murmured in disbelief.

Yang Hao vanished.

In the next instant, he reappeared behind her. Before she could react, his palm smacked the back of her head—not hard enough to injure, but just enough to make her stumble forward like a scolded child.

Gasps echoed through the stadium. Laughter followed.

Luo Meiying whipped around, humiliated, her face burning red.

"You—!"

A foot hooked behind her ankle.

With a slight push to her shoulder, Yang Hao sent her toppling backward. She landed hard on the stage, her breath leaving her in a pained wheeze. Before she could scramble up, Yang Hao casually planted his foot on her chest, holding her down with the least amount of effort possible.

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, many amused by the sheer disrespect.

"Winner: Yang Hao!" The referee's voice cut through the noise.

Yang Hao lifted his foot and turned away without a second glance. Luo Meiying scrambled to her feet, her fists clenched in frustration. But she couldn't say anything—he had defeated her without even trying.

As he stepped off the stage, Yu Ruyi hummed in amusement.

Yu Ruyi's voice rang out in his mind, teasing as ever.

"Say, do you have a fetish for ending fights by touching a girl's chest?"

Yang Hao ignored her. He felt embarassed when he thought about it.

"First, you punched Jiang Chenxue's. Then, you fell face-first into Xu Qingyan's. And now, you're stepping on this poor girl's chest? Tsk, tsk... I didn't take you for a man of such refined tastes."

He flicked the dust off his sleeve, stepping off the stage.

"If this keeps up, I might start believing it's not just a coincidence."

Yang Hao sighed. "Hey? I know okay? I won't do it next time."

Yu Ruyi hummed in amusement.

"Oh? You won't do it next time?" She dragged out the words, clearly unconvinced. "That's what a repeat offender would say."

Yang Hao exhaled through his nose, but she wasn't done.

"You know, at this rate, you should just accept it. Own it. Maybe even make it your signature move—'Breast-Seeking Palm? '? 'Heavenly Soft Landing Fist'?"

She let out a dramatic sigh.

"Honestly, if I didn't know you, I'd think you were doing it on purpose."

Navrita's calm voice suddenly cut in.

"Breast-Seeking Palm does exist."

Yang Hao stopped mid-step. Yu Ruyi, who had been about to tease him again, fell silent.

"...What?" Yang Hao finally spoke, thinking he had misheard.

Navrita continued in her usual emotionless tone.

"It was created by a rogue cultivator three thousand years ago. He specialized in pressure point strikes and soft-body martial arts. The technique was designed to target the acupoints on a woman's chest, disrupting her qi flow and rendering her unable to fight back."

Yu Ruyi burst into laughter. "Hahaha! So it's a real thing?! And here I thought I was just messing with you! But wow, Yang Hao, you're this close to inheriting an ancient perverted art!"

Yang Hao's eye twitched. "That's ridiculous."

Navrita, as calm as ever, added, "He was eventually hunted down and killed by a sect of female cultivators. His legacy was lost... until now."

A heavy silence hung between them.

Yu Ruyi snickered. "So, Yang Hao, planning to revive a lost art?"

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Yang Hao rubbed his temples. "...I hate both of you."