Chapter 250 - 239: Iron Fist and Turtle Shell
Chapter 250: Chapter 239: Iron Fist and Turtle Shell
The second day of the Martial Arts Assembly.
The top thirty-two tournament.
The elimination rounds were more important and had fewer matches, so only the four arenas—East, South, West, and North—were in use, with four matches proceeding simultaneously.
The top four in fist power—Basang, Zhao Lin, Bolta, and Mai Kun—were pitted against the disciples ranked from thirty-second to twenty-ninth, respectively.
"These four matches are the most predictable. Why don’t we guess which one will end first?"
In the Great Yue spectator stands, a mature-looking disciple said casually.
"It should be Basang. The attack power of his Thunder Blade Fist is too strong. Anyone with a fist power below four hundred can’t possibly block more than a few punches."
The disciple beside him said with certainty.
"I think it’ll be Bolta. His fist power is just as heavy, and with the boost from his Gathering Body Skill, his opponent won’t even have a place to dodge."
Another person offered a different opinion.
"Why isn’t anyone mentioning Senior Brother Zhao? His fist power is just as impressive, and his Body Technique is faster. If you ask me, Senior Brother Zhao’s match will end first."
"Senior Brother Zhao is formidable, but we haven’t seen him fight in the last six months. Who knows what level his cultivation has reached..."
Similar discussions were taking place in all the spectator stands. In the center of the field, the eight competitors walked onto their respective arenas, waiting only for the gong to signal the start of the battles.
Facing Zhao Lin was a disciple from Uche. Although he had carefully studied Zhao Lin’s skills the day before, the intelligence he had gathered was frustratingly limited. He only knew that Zhao Lin’s fist power was exceptional, his Body Technique was swift, and he possessed combat experience far beyond his years.
After studying him for half a day, he couldn’t find a path to victory. The final strategy he decided on was to focus on defense and wait for Zhao Lin to make a mistake, hoping for a slim chance to win.
Zhao Lin was also sizing up his opponent. Though confident in his ability to win, his first thought was how to secure a position where he couldn’t lose.
He had seen plenty of examples of upsets in major competitions, and without exception, they were all caused by underestimating the opponent. He absolutely could not make that kind of mistake.
Elder Ruan of the Lotus Sect stood in the center of the training grounds. He glanced at the sundial at the edge of the field; its shadow fell on the mark for the Hour of the Serpent. He nodded slightly and pressed his hands down, signaling for the crowd to be quiet.
"Everyone, the time has come. Let the matches begin!"
This time, there was no need for an arbitrating elder to count down. The moment his voice fell, all eight people on the arenas moved at once.
Zhao Lin tapped his left foot on the ground and shot forward diagonally. The Uche disciple froze for a second, thinking, ’Why isn’t he attacking down the middle?’
But then Zhao Lin tapped his right foot, suddenly changed direction, and moved in a zigzag pattern.
The Uche disciple’s vision blurred, and Zhao Lin was already upon him, striking out with a palm in a WHOOSH.
As the saying goes, brute force overcomes all techniques. Zhao Lin had many methods of attack, but since his advantage in strength was obvious, overwhelming his opponent with power was the safest option.
The Uche disciple was already on guard. He dropped into a low lunge, sank his shoulder, and met the palm strike with one of his own.
Their palms met. The Uche disciple was forced back seven or eight steps, his arm aching and numb, unable to muster any strength.
Zhao Lin only swayed slightly before stepping forward again, sending out another palm strike.
The Uche disciple knew he couldn’t match his opponent’s strength. He threw a feigned palm strike, shifted his center of gravity backward, and prepared to use the opponent’s force to evade.
When Zhao Lin saw that his opponent’s palm strike held its power back, he knew his intention. ’You want to borrow my force?’ he thought. ’Fine, I’ll let you borrow a little extra!’
He flipped his wrist and pushed sideways instead.
The Uche disciple instantly felt a great force transmit through his palm, but it was coming from the side.
He had originally planned to dodge diagonally, but with this added force, his entire body was sent flying toward the side of the arena.
Zhao Lin suddenly accelerated, rushing forward and throwing a punch before the Uche disciple could land.
The Uche disciple cried out in his heart—this was bad. The punch was full of power and timed perfectly for that awkward moment when his old momentum was spent and new strength had yet to be generated. He could only cross his palms to protect his body and grit his teeth to endure the blow.
BANG!
The Uche disciple tumbled to the ground with half a foot already off the edge of the arena. Seeing Zhao Lin rushing at him again, he threw up his hand and shouted, "I forfeit!"
At the same time, two thuds—BANG! BANG!—rang out from the southern and northern arenas.
Zhao Lin halted and turned his head to see Basang and Bolta knocking their opponents off their respective arenas at the exact same moment.
The crowd in the stands was dumbfounded. In the blink of an eye, three of the matches were already over.
"A good match."
Zhao Lin cupped his fist to the Uche disciple, then stepped off the arena and walked to the sidelines to watch the other fights.
He learned from the other disciples that Basang and Bolta had also defeated their opponents within five moves. The process was even identical: they forced their opponents into a corner with a few punches, then knocked them off the arena with a final one.
Only Mai Kun on the eastern arena was still entangled with his opponent, but he already had a firm upper hand. It looked like the match would be decided any moment.
Next, Li Taiqing, He Liancheng, Muheli, Su Mu, and the others took to the arenas one after another, facing the lower-ranked disciples.
As it turned out, the strength gap between the top eight in fist power and the bottom eight was enormous. Not only did all the top-ranked disciples win, but every match ended within the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea.
Most of the subsequent matches were also won by the one with superior fist power, with the sole exception of Yao Chong, who lost to a disciple ranked lower than himself.
It wasn’t until the fifteenth-ranked Jiang Pu and eighteenth-ranked Helian took the stage that the top-thirty-two tournament truly saw an evenly matched confrontation.
Jiang Pu, who claimed to have mastered over a dozen Cultivation Techniques and a hundred Fist Skills, immediately unleashed his Star-Splitting Fist Force. He combined it with a medley of seven or eight different Fist Skills to launch a fierce assault on Helian.
At first, Helian tried to counter move for move. But he soon discovered that he was no match for Jiang Pu in terms of fist and leg techniques. So, he simply stopped dodging and evading. Activating his Iron Armor Force, a ripple-like ward would appear wherever Jiang Pu attacked.
With a series of splashing sounds, Jiang Pu’s Star-Splitting Fist Force was deflected, leaving Helian completely unharmed.
Zhao Lin watched, clicking his tongue in amazement.
Most armor-type Cultivation Techniques formed a half-body or even full-body shell. They covered a large area but also consumed an extreme amount of energy.
Helian’s Iron Armor Force, however, was unique. It could shrink to the size of a fist and was even divided into inner and outer layers, which both conserved energy and provided excellent defense.
Seeing that his Star-Splitting Fist Force was ineffective, Jiang Pu switched tactics, successively using the Moon Shattering Palm, Silver Whip Leg, Golden Dragon Claw... he cycled through a variety of Cultivation Technique moves in his attack.
Ripples of light flared up across Helian’s body. No matter what technique Jiang Pu used, he defended against it all. He even managed to land a few surprise counterattacks, which threw Jiang Pu into a flustered panic.
Jiang Pu was getting a massive headache. Facing Helian was like a mouse trying to eat a turtle—he couldn’t find a place to start.
He knew he would face the second-ranked Zhao Lin in the round of sixteen. If he exhausted all his stamina here, there would be no point in even fighting the next match; he might as well just forfeit.
At this thought, Jiang Pu let out a sharp exhale and pushed his energy to its absolute limit. A dense layer of power immediately swirled around his fists.
It churned and roiled like a surging tide.
He threw a punch. Helian raised his arm to block it and his body swayed.
He threw a second punch. Helian took a step back.
With the third punch, Helian was forced back several steps, and his expression changed.
Zhao Lin could see what was happening. Jiang Pu’s fist force was something like a combination of the Overlapping Waves Palm and the Mountain Shattering Fist, with each punch stronger than the last. It looked like he was trying to smash Helian’s "turtle shell" to pieces.
Helian also sensed that something was wrong. Seeing Jiang Pu’s fourth punch coming, he immediately crossed his arms in front of his chest. He released his energy, forming three layers of watery ripples on the outside of his forearms.
Jiang Pu’s fourth punch landed. The watery ripples surged, sending out layer after layer of waves, but Helian remained as unshakable as a mountain.