Chapter 41: Forcing My Hand

On the arena, two figures moved as swiftly as lightning. Under the sunlight, their long swords reflected blinding rays, shimmering with a chilling gleam. A fierce wind roared, sword energy surged, and the metallic clangor was incessant.

Yin Tianfang and Liu Feng attacked with equal swiftness, leaving behind fading afterimages.

“Clang!”

“Bang!”

Their swords collided, palms clashed, and both men’s bodies shuddered as they simultaneously retreated. All around the arena, the onlookers stared in stunned silence at the scene before them. In just a few brief moments, the two had exchanged a hundred blows, evenly matched at every turn!

“Gravity Art!” Liu Feng struck out with his palm, shaking the very air. An enormous, invisible hand crashed down toward Yin Tianfang. The Gravity Art was originally intended for controlling flying swords, but in Liu Feng’s hands, it had become a weapon. One had to admit, Liu Feng possessed extraordinary talent in cultivation.

The formless hand, brimming with overwhelming force, raced toward Yin Tianfang, stirring up a fierce storm. Yet Yin Tianfang remained calm, raising his hand and unleashing a palm strike of his own. Instantly, a thunderous boom erupted in the void between them, as if something had exploded. The surging force rippled outward in a ring, rocking the very platform with its intensity.

On the stands, the heads of many clans and the elders of the Daoist Sect watched the fierce battle, keen light flashing in their eyes. The strength of these two, among all the outer disciples of the Daoist Sect, was undoubtedly among the very best.

“This boy is truly formidable,” some of the elders inwardly marveled. Yin Tianfang’s youth was obvious to all, yet he wielded such powerful cultivation—truly, his potential was terrifying. Elder Xuan Yin, however, remained impassive. Yin Tianfang’s true cultivation was masked by a secret art, revealing only the third stage of the Qi Condensation Realm.

This secret art had been passed down by Elder Xuan Yin himself. Even the many elders of the Daoist Sect and the assembled clan heads could not discern Yin Tianfang’s true strength.

“This boy went into seclusion recently, likely so he could display greater cultivation in public without arousing suspicion. But if he truly is only at the third stage of Qi Condensation, surpassing Liu Feng will be difficult,” Elder Xuan Yin thought to himself, his gaze flickering.

Just then, Liu Feng let out a clear cry. His sword flew from his grasp, transforming into a streak of light that shot straight toward Yin Tianfang. At the same time, Liu Feng formed a series of hand seals, and a massive water dragon materialized. The dragon roared, ferocious and terrifying, radiating an astonishing aura.

As the flying sword and water dragon surged toward Yin Tianfang, several fireballs blazed after them like meteors.

In a split second, Liu Feng unleashed three consecutive attacks, each more ferocious than the last, sealing off all hope of retreat. The audience stared in awe; such an assault was so overwhelming that few, even among inner disciples at the fourth stage of Qi Condensation, could hope to withstand it unscathed.

“Yield, quickly!” Nuo Lan cried out in alarm.

On the stands, the elders of the Daoist Sect tensed, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. Their discerning eyes saw clearly how savage these attacks were. They did not believe Yin Tianfang could withstand them, and waited only for the assault to land and for him to be injured before stepping in to rescue him.

The sharp sword light, the fearsome water dragon, the searing fireballs—all rushed toward Yin Tianfang, the immense pressure finally bringing a hint of gravity to his expression.

Drawing a deep breath, Yin Tianfang looked across at Liu Feng, who wore a sinister grin. Slowly raising his hands, Yin Tianfang’s immense spiritual power surged forth. His palms came together with a sudden clap, making the air itself tremble as if two giant hands had slammed together. The roaring dragon and fireballs shattered instantly, and even the sword, gleaming with cold light, halted in its tracks.

“What formidable cultivation!” the Daoist Sect elders exclaimed with surprise. This was a masterful application of the Gravity Art, and such power clearly indicated a vast reserve of spiritual energy within. For one at the third stage of Qi Condensation to be so robust—such talent was truly astounding.

“Elder Xuan Yin, is this boy your disciple?” several elders inquired, turning to him.

“He is not,” Xuan Yin replied coolly, his gaze never leaving the platform, unaffected by their questions. The other elders, unoffended, exchanged meaningful glances, each with thoughts of their own.

The flying sword returned to Liu Feng’s hand. He regarded Yin Tianfang coldly. Though Yin Tianfang still projected the appearance of being at the third stage of Qi Condensation, his spiritual power was far denser than Liu Feng’s.

“I admit, in a contest of equals, I am no match for you. Your spiritual energy surpasses mine,” Liu Feng said calmly, unfazed that his attack had been broken.

“But,” he continued, his voice ringing out across the training ground, “do you think that alone is enough to defeat me?”

With a thunderous boom, the spiritual energy of the world surged. A new, even stronger aura erupted from Liu Feng—he had broken through to the fourth stage of Qi Condensation right there on the spot!

Vast spiritual power poured down, saturating Liu Feng, his aura soaring far beyond his earlier level. The force swept outward in wild gales. Liu Feng’s black hair whipped about, his eyes shone with brilliance, and he stood tall with newfound vigor. He stamped his foot and shouted coldly, “I may be weaker at the same level, but now I stand a stage above you. Can you still defeat me?”

His icy snort echoed through the air as he raised his hand. Droplets of water floated in mid-air, then, with a flurry of hand seals, countless drops transformed into deadly icicles. In the sunlight they sparkled with rainbow hues—beautiful, yet brimming with peril.

“Go!” With a wave, the icicles rained toward Yin Tianfang like a deadly storm. Yin Tianfang raised his hand, mind focused, and once more employed the Gravity Art.

But this time, the countless icicles easily pierced through the art’s restraints, speeding relentlessly toward him.

If even a fraction of those icicles struck, Yin Tianfang would be riddled with holes in an instant. Many of the Daoist Sect disciples in the crowd turned their heads away, unwilling to witness the impending carnage.

“Yield, quickly!” Nuo Lan cried, her face pale with worry, rushing to the edge of the stage and calling out to Yin Tianfang, nearly leaping onto the arena herself. Hearing her anxious voice, Yin Tianfang turned, smiled reassuringly at her, and said, “Don’t worry.” He turned back to face the barrage, exhaled softly, and murmured, “So you’re forcing me to use my full strength.”

Standing nearby, Nuo Lan heard his words clearly. Her anxious expression froze for an instant.

Boom! An aura no less powerful than Liu Feng’s erupted from Yin Tianfang, shaking the arena to its core.