Chapter Forty-Three: This Punch! For Wan'er!

Jiang Xiaotian did not regret his actions. Indeed, he had always been a coward, but that was out of necessity, forced by the harshness of life. Now, however, he possessed strength, and cowardice no longer had a place in his heart. Even knowing he was no match for Chen Yu, he did not shrink back. He never imagined, though, that the situation would be so one-sided. Having signed the death agreement, he was not even afforded the right to surrender.

Yet, at the final moment, what he felt most was anger—an overwhelming fury. He hated his own lack of talent, his inability to protect anyone. He had loudly declared he would avenge Ye Wan’er, only to throw his own life away in the process.

From afar, Zhao Yan watched Jiang Xiaotian, certain that death was imminent for the young man, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him. Suddenly, a strange aura surged from within Jiang Xiaotian, enveloping him. Ordinary people could not see it, and even Zhao Yan, a martial artist at the intermediate stage of inner power, could not discern its nature.

“So boring. I thought this arrogant brat might pose a challenge, but he’s nothing but a weakling,” Zhao Zheng yawned, ready to declare the match over.

But Zhao Yan suddenly cried out in terror, “Young master! This... this is impossible! This...” He stammered, unable to finish his sentence.

Zhao Zheng turned to him in confusion, about to inquire, when a commotion erupted from the stands. He looked back and was struck dumb, his brows knitting in disbelief, as though he had seen a ghost.

The Jiang Xiaotian who should have died was now struggling to his feet once more. The wounds that had covered his body were healing at a shocking rate, and the energy within him had returned to its original state.

“You! What kind of martial art have you practiced?” Chen Yu could no longer force a smile; shock was all that remained on his face. Why wouldn’t this man die?

Jiang Xiaotian said nothing, merely gasping for breath, his head slightly raised as he met Chen Yu’s gaze. In that instant, a flicker of fear flashed through Chen Yu’s eyes—not much, but enough to ignite a towering rage within him. How dare this talentless bastard look at him like that!

“Die!” Countless waves of inner power howled from Chen Yu’s body, surging toward Jiang Xiaotian, intent on shredding him to pieces. No mercy remained; he would end this wretch with a killing blow. Chen Yu’s face was as dark and forbidding as a thundercloud. To be pushed so far by a mere outer strength practitioner was intolerable! He would not rest until Jiang Xiaotian was torn limb from limb.

“You... you even dared to set your sights on Ling’er?” Jiang Xiaotian suddenly spoke, his voice low and thunderous, like an enraged bull. The murderous aura around him rose sharply. “This so-called Martial Arts Tournament—a bunch of spineless cowards!” Jiang Xiaotian’s roar reverberated across the arena, as forceful as a dragon’s cry.

No one understood how Jiang Xiaotian could still stand, or why he now exuded such terrifying pressure. But all knew that Chen Yu’s coming attack was unstoppable. Even ordinary people could sense the overwhelming force of the inner power—anyone caught in it would vanish in an instant.

Always dodging in the past, Jiang Xiaotian did not evade this time. With utter disregard for everything, as the inner power surged toward him, he simply extended a finger.

“Courting death!” Chen Yu snorted coldly, his eyes locked on his foe, unwilling to miss the moment Jiang Xiaotian was torn apart.

With a thunderous boom, the mighty force of inner power crashed down like a thousand-pound weight upon the diminutive Jiang Xiaotian. Yet Jiang Xiaotian showed not a trace of fear; he met the formless with the tangible.

At the very instant their powers clashed, a small flame flared to life at Jiang Xiaotian’s fingertip. Chen Yu’s pupils shrank, all color draining from his face—he recognized that flame! It was the very fire that had nearly claimed his life before. His deadly inner power, in the face of that spark, was as fragile as paper. It was ignited in an instant, leaving him no chance to resist.

“Break!” The fire conjured by Jiang Xiaotian seemed a beast long held in check, now ravenous as it devoured Chen Yu’s inner power. In mere seconds, the entire arena became a sea of fire.

Chen Yu’s hands trembled uncontrollably. He instinctively retreated a step, only to find the flames had already cut off all escape.

“Tricks! Do you think I’m afraid of you?” Chen Yu shouted, terror-stricken. He held nothing back, unleashing everything he had in a desperate bid to destroy Jiang Xiaotian.

“So this is how spiritual energy works,” Jiang Xiaotian murmured, feeling the vast and surging power within him. With a thought, every one of Chen Yu’s attacks was blocked and incinerated by the sea of flames.

The sudden turn left the crowd in shock—no one could comprehend what had just happened. All exchanged bewildered, disbelieving glances.

Zhao Zheng too was dumbfounded. “Zhao Yan, what...”

“Young master, this one cannot be allowed to live...” Zhao Yan’s throat was dry; even he felt an inexplicable fear of the flames. This was the furious fire of the dragon clan, a sea of flames above all else! The pressure of bloodline compelled all to submit.

Chen Yu’s heart pounded wildly, his gaze darting about in search of an escape route. None of his attacks worked; Jiang Xiaotian’s strangeness had surpassed all imagination. Now, only escape could save his life.

But how could Jiang Xiaotian let him slip away?

“Trying to run?” Jiang Xiaotian laughed, taking just two strides to close the gap.

Chen Yu, frantic, struck back at once. Jiang Xiaotian answered in kind, his iron fist wreathed in pale blue fire. Chen Yu never even touched him—he shot backward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Blood welled in Chen Yu’s throat; he clutched his mouth, spit blood, eyes wide with disbelief. “How... how is this possible?”

He refused to accept that this wretch could wound him. But before he could react, Jiang Xiaotian was at his back, grabbing his collar and hurling him high, then smashing him brutally to the ground.

With a crash, even the specially reinforced arena cracked beneath the impact. Chen Yu clutched his chest, terror writ large in his eyes.

“Aren’t you the number one in Linhai? Get up!” Jiang Xiaotian kicked him midair, sending him tumbling like a ragdoll until the guardrail stopped him.

The once arrogant, supremely confident Chen Yu now sat slumped against the railing like a defeated cur. His hands trembled as he weakly gestured for Jiang Xiaotian to stop.

Yet in the next instant, Jiang Xiaotian, wild as an unbridled steed, crashed into him bodily—flesh against flesh.

With a clang, the railing snapped in two, and Chen Yu collapsed to the ground, blood flowing freely.

“Jiang Xiaotian! Have you gone mad? You dare kill him!” A furious voice rang out from the stands.

Jiang Xiaotian looked up indifferently to see Zhao Zheng glaring at him as if he wanted to tear him apart.

“What, does the death agreement mean nothing now?”

“Damn your death agreement! If I, Zhao Zheng, want to protect Chen Yu, who would dare oppose me?” he bellowed.

The thing Zhao Zheng valued most was his reputation. If Jiang Xiaotian killed Chen Yu before him, what face would he have left? This was true shamelessness, but no one present dared contradict him. The Zhao family’s power was simply too overwhelming.

Jiang Xiaotian ignored him, merely chuckling as he strolled to Chen Yu and placed a foot on his wrist.

“Tell me, which hand did you use to drain Wan’er’s martial force?”

Chen Yu screamed in agony, but his voice was weak. Though he was a master of inner power, all his strength had been stolen from others; he had never trained his body. Jiang Xiaotian, meanwhile, fought like a man possessed, and with the blessing of spiritual energy, Chen Yu could not withstand much longer.

“If you won’t say, I’ll take this one as your answer!” Jiang Xiaotian stomped down, crushing Chen Yu’s hand. His fingers twisted grotesquely, his howl of pain filled with despair.

Jiang Xiaotian gave him no respite, smashing his nose to one side with a punch. “This is for Ling’er.”

Then another blow to the other side. “This is for every girl you have ever harmed!”

“Jiang Xiaotian! You dare ignore me? If you touch him again, my Zhao family will see you dead!” Zhao Zheng’s voice shook with rage—never had anyone defied him so openly.

Jiang Xiaotian paused. A murmur ran through the crowd; all believed he had finally been cowed by the Zhao family. Truly, the Zhao family was invincible.

Seeing him stop, Zhao Zheng breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll remember you.”

Chen Yu, too, relaxed, thinking he had narrowly escaped death.

But Jiang Xiaotian merely glanced impassively at Zhao Zheng, then once more encased his fist in fire. To the horror of all, he drove it through Chen Yu’s chest.

“This punch is for Wan’er!”