Xu Hong smiled and waved his hand, saying softly, "We’re fellow disciples, so there’s no need for formalities. Just be careful. I won’t disturb you any longer. You should prepare yourself; the competition is about to begin."

After speaking, Xu Hong turned to leave, but his steps faltered for a moment. He added another reminder, "If you run into those three I mentioned, be extremely careful. Don’t let your pride get the better of you. Even if you lose, Master and our martial brothers won’t laugh at you. This is your first time in the trials, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself."

With that, Xu Hong turned and walked back toward the eighth arena.

Yang Jing watched Xu Hong’s departing figure, a faint warmth spreading through his chest.

He had practically been invisible at the Martial Arts Hall, keeping a low profile. Even after reaching Mingjin and then the realm of Inner Strength, he had kept his head down and focused on training. Aside from Liu Maolin, he hadn’t formed deep friendships with any of the other disciples.

Furthermore, in Yang Jing’s experience, the few disciples who had attained Inner Strength were difficult to get along with. They seemed to resent and ostracize him, both openly and subtly. Perhaps it was because of his background, or because he had achieved Inner Strength despite his Lower-Grade Root Bone—which in their eyes was just a case of dumb luck—or perhaps it was for some other reason entirely.

Under the circumstances, Yang Jing had given up on the idea of trying to befriend these disciples with Inner Strength.

’But thinking about it now, while Eldest Brother hasn’t helped me much, he’s also rarely shown any resentment, exclusion, or disgust toward me.’

Yang Jing shook his head and took a deep breath, pushing the cluttered thoughts from his mind.

The most important thing right now was to face the trials. All other trivial matters had to be put on the back burner; he couldn’t let them affect his state of mind.

Once his mind was clear, Yang Jing began to ponder the fighting styles of the three individuals Xu Hong had mentioned. He focused especially on Shen Lie. ’For Eldest Brother Xu Hong to rank him first and admit to being no match for him... he must be an incredibly formidable opponent.’

Time ticked by. The wind on the training grounds gradually died down, and the sun-baked air seemed to grow thick and still. All that remained were faint shouts in the distance and the sound of breathing rising and falling from those nearby.

As time passed, a latent tension rose like the tide, making the atmosphere around the seventh arena increasingly heavy.

An incense stick’s worth of time slipped by. A middle-aged man in an Official’s uniform walked onto the seventh arena, and similar scenes unfolded on the other seven.

The middle-aged Official’s steps were steady as he came to a stop in the center of the arena. His gaze swept over the thirty-two Martial Artists below who were assigned to the seventh arena, and he announced in a clear voice, "Seventh Arena, first round, first match! Qian Feng of Lieyang Martial Arts Hall versus Zhao Hu of Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall!"

As his voice faded, the area below the stage fell silent, all eyes fixated on the arena.

The Martial Artist from Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall, Zhao Hu, stepped forward at the call. Built like an iron pagoda, he let out a low grunt, cupped his fist in salute, and leaped onto the arena. His expression, however, was grim.

On the other side, the black-clad young man, Qian Feng, ascended the stage at a slow pace. His build was average and his expression was calm, a stark contrast to Zhao Hu’s powerful physique and shout.

With both men in position, the first match of the first round officially began.

"Let’s see what you’ve got!" Zhao Hu barked, taking the initiative. His fist sliced through the air as he threw a punch straight at Qian Feng’s face.

The moment he moved, Yang Jing understood. ’No wonder Zhao Hu looked so grim when he heard he was fighting Qian Feng,’ he thought. ’He may have trained his Mingjin to its peak, but he never broke through the bottleneck to attain Inner Strength. He’s leagues below Qian Feng. Unless he has some heaven-defying power or Qian Feng is unlucky enough to have a qi deviation right here on the stage, his defeat is all but guaranteed.’

Numerous thoughts flashed through Yang Jing’s mind as he watched the two begin to fight.

However, he forced those thoughts down and focused intently on the battle. ’Before my own match, the more I can learn about others, the better my chances of defeating them later.’ This was especially true for an expert with Inner Strength like Qian Feng, whom even Eldest Brother Xu Hong had specifically warned him about.

Since Qian Feng was fighting in the very first match, Yang Jing naturally watched him with rapt attention.

Zhao Hu was at the Peak of Mingjin, and his punches were ferocious. He was one of the top fighters among those at his level; any Martial Artist of the same rank who tried to block his fist head-on would likely pay a heavy price.

Faced with Zhao Hu’s ferocious punch, Qian Feng remained unhurried. He shifted his body just enough to evade the blow, and at the same time, his right hand formed a palm. With a light flick of his wrist, a sharp energy traveled along the edge of his hand, slicing toward Zhao Hu’s ribs. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

The palm strike looked deceptively light, but it carried a cunning, twisting force—the very essence of the Wind-Splitting Palm.

Zhao Hu brought his fist back to block. The instant his fist met the edge of the palm, he felt a piercing force travel up his arm, causing his qi and blood to stagnate.

Before he could regain his footing, Qian Feng’s palm struck again, swift as a fleeting shadow. It was a typically ferocious palm art, yet he executed it with a nimble speed that was utterly fluid.

Zhao Hu swung his fist to block again, only to feel an overwhelming force transmit from the seemingly gentle palm. He was driven back, THUD THUD THUD, taking seven or eight steps to disperse the impact. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

Zhao Hu stood frozen in place, a complex expression on his face as he looked at Qian Feng. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he cupped his fist and said, "Thank you for going easy on me."

The gap between Mingjin and Inner Strength was immense.

He might be one of the best Martial Artists at the Peak of Mingjin, but Qian Feng was no ordinary practitioner of Inner Strength. The fact that he had lasted three moves was only because Qian Feng had shown him mercy.

"You fought well."

Qian Feng withdrew his palm and stood tall, his breathing even, as if he had just done something utterly insignificant.

The Official stepped forward and announced, "Qian Feng is victorious!"

A low murmur rippled through the crowd below.

Standing in the crowd, Yang Jing’s eyes narrowed, committing every detail of Qian Feng’s movements to memory.

He noticed that when Qian Feng struck, he must have been channeling his Inner Strength to the edge of his palm, making it exceptionally sharp—like a blade.

Furthermore, Qian Feng’s footwork was incredibly agile. He was always able to evade his opponent’s attacks by a hair’s breadth, and his timing was extremely precise.

’He might have trained in a Body Technique as well.’

Yang Jing thought to himself, comparing the Body Technique Qian Feng displayed to his own Raging Wave Kicks.

Qian Feng’s Body Technique and speed were impressive, but there was still a huge gap compared to his own Raging Wave Kicks, which had already reached the Mingjin stage.

Yang Jing guessed that Qian Feng was primarily training in the *Wind-Splitting Palm* while simultaneously cultivating a Body Technique.

However, perhaps due to limited energy or insufficient training time, his Body Technique was stuck at a bottleneck; he hadn’t yet developed Mingjin with it.

After all, for a Martial Artist, the difference between having developed Inner Strength and not was enormous.

Aside from his Body Technique, Yang Jing also silently compared the characteristics of Qian Feng’s moves with his own Mountain-Shattering Fist, mentally devising countermeasures.

Know your enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. This first round of the competition was the perfect opportunity for him to observe his opponents.

However, Yang Jing also considered that others might be thinking the same thing. He made up his mind. ’I won’t use my full strength until a critical moment. I especially need to hide my Body Technique for as long as possible. I’ll keep it as a trump card; it might have a miraculous effect when I finally use it.’

「Time passed slowly.」

On the arena, match after match began and ended.

Soon, three matches had passed. Winners and losers were decided on the stage, but the tension in the air only grew thicker.

The middle-aged man in the Official’s uniform walked onto the arena again, a list of names in his hand. He cleared his throat, announced the result of the previous match, then let his gaze sweep over the crowd below before slowly reading out the names for the next duel. "Seventh Arena, fourth match! Disciple Yang Jing of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall versus Li Yumang!"

Yang Jing took a deep breath, straightened his robes, and walked steadily onto the arena.

Yang Jing was a little surprised when the middle-aged Official called his name. ’So my first-round opponent is an Independent Martial Artist.’