Volume Three: Rising Fame Chapter Five: An Easy Victory

"Impossible—how can he be this strong?" Qing Tiangan was dumbfounded. It had merely been a probing move, yet he’d been struck back with such force that he hadn’t even had the chance to resist.

His armor rang out repeatedly under the heavy blows.

If not for this armor, he would have been defeated already.

Each strike was absorbed, the force dissipated considerably, and by the time it reached him, it was only fifty or sixty percent of its original strength. Yet even so, he felt a sweetness in his throat, the taste of blood rising.

"Strength isn’t something you boast about," Li Yu said, seizing an opening to land a heavy blow straight on the breastplate, sending Qing Tiangan flying.

This scene was captured by the light screen; everyone in the arena saw the events on the platform, and an uproar broke out.

"Is this for real? Is the Thunderblood lineage really this strong?"

"I’ve been watching this platform the whole time—trust me, it’s incredible. He’s got Qing Tiangan completely suppressed."

"I think Qing Tiangan just got caught off guard—he’s about to turn things around!"

...

On the dueling stage, a sudden and powerful surge of spiritual energy burst from Qing Tiangan, forcing Li Yu back a few steps.

"Brute strength is nothing—among us Divine Dao cultivators, it’s spiritual power that counts!" Qing Tiangan panted, roaring.

"But..." Li Yu flipped lightly, easily dodging the blast wave and reminded him, "I’m a sixth-grade cultivator. You’re only seventh-grade."

And he wielded thunder-natured spiritual power, something unmatched by most peers.

...

The air grew tense and still.

Qing Tiangan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

He knew Li Yu’s background, had read his records: in just a few months, Li Yu had cultivated from a mere mortal to the sixth grade. That alone spoke volumes of his terrifying talent.

Qing Tiangan had thought his only hope lay in leveraging his years of military experience—his reactions and hand-to-hand combat skills—to defeat his opponent. His initial strategy was to avoid Li Yu’s overwhelming strength; since he lagged in cultivation, he would rely on quick reflexes. That was why he’d closed in for close combat.

What he hadn’t expected was that this so-called ordinary person, in just a few months, had reached the sixth grade and still found time to master martial arts manuals. How could he possibly have had so much time?

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Qing Tiangan declared, "I don’t believe it. In just a few months, you could possibly master so many secret techniques!"

Channeling spiritual power through specific meridians could double the effects of one’s skills.

With a flick of his wrist, his broadsword flared with green light, thorns glinting along its edge.

Two fifth-grade referees were stationed nearby, and hearing Qing Tiangan’s words, they exchanged a knowing, almost odd glance.

They had both taught Li Yu themselves. When it came to Li Yu’s mastery of secret manuals, they were the ultimate authorities. Teaching Li Yu had given them the uncanny feeling that he was some kind of beast in human skin—his learning speed was simply too monstrous. Watch once, try once, and he had it down.

"I have swung this blade three hundred times a day since I first picked it up," Qing Tiangan said solemnly, fixing his gaze on Li Yu. "If you can take this strike, I concede defeat."

If Li Yu could withstand this blow, there was nothing else Qing Tiangan could do.

As a Divine Dao cultivator, Qing Tiangan’s status was not low; he had practiced many techniques and honed his body since before the sixth grade.

But in the end, his physical strength still relied on spiritual power, and compared to Li Yu, his only real edge was those years on the battlefield, surviving countless life-and-death struggles.

Beyond that, he had nothing left.

"Come, then!" Li Yu’s expression grew serious—he neither underestimated his opponent nor himself. He spread his palm, crackling with lightning, and finally a longsword of pure thunder-natured spiritual power formed in his grip.

In truth, the only reason Qing Tiangan resented him was because Li Yu had taken the ‘Seed’ status that might have been his. While Li Yu would not give up that honor, he could understand the resentment it provoked.

So if Qing Tiangan wanted to settle the match in a single blow, Li Yu was happy to oblige.

"Look at the purple stage—this is it!"

"Qing Tiangan’s about to unleash his trump card. Looks like Li Yu’s going to meet him head-on!"

"Who do you think will win?"

"How should I know?"

...

All eyes in the arena turned nervously to the purple platform. On one side stood the son of an elder, who had left in anger years ago after failing to receive the Seed status, seeking to temper himself in the outside world.

On the other stood Li Yu, newly arrived in the clan, who had become a Seed candidate without any achievements.

A clash over the Seed status was inevitable. But who would prevail?

Many members of the Qing clan were drawn in, even Qing Heng watched the light screen intently.

"A longsword of pure spiritual power... Such refined energy—could he be on the verge of breaking through to the fifth grade?" Qing Heng mused.

On the stage:

"Here I come!"

Dragging his broadsword, Qing Tiangan accelerated swiftly, leaving afterimages behind him. Amid the green radiance, the blade slashed down with all his might.

In the next instant, his body froze.

Li Yu had not moved at all; he’d merely bent slightly, and his longsword pierced straight through the armor, emerging from Qing Tiangan’s back.

On the light screen, it looked as though Li Yu had simply assumed a stance, and Qing Tiangan had charged directly into it.

"Li Yu, victory!"

The two referees tensed. At Li Yu’s signal, they appeared in a flash at Qing Tiangan’s side, checked his injuries, and declared the winner.

"You’re truly remarkable," one referee praised.

That thrust had split Qing Tiangan’s armor—had he aimed for the throat, it would have been fatal. Yet Li Yu had only incapacitated his opponent, causing some bleeding but not even a serious injury, carefully avoiding all vital points.

The referees knew this was deliberate; one of them served directly under the Third Elder, and this deed greatly improved his opinion of Li Yu.

"Indeed, truly outstanding!" the Third Elder declared. When he saw the sword emerge from Qing Tiangan’s back, his own body tensed, but seeing the referee’s calm, he knew all was well.

He turned to the middle-aged man at his side, eyes burning with excitement.

"More talented than anyone in the Qing clan! And he’s only been cultivating for a few months!"

Qing Heng nodded in satisfaction. "He exploited Tiangan’s opening to defeat him. In every respect—a genius!"

His gaze was keen; at a glance, he saw through Li Yu’s technique.

Mere cultivation was useless; high bloodline alone meant sitting in meditation and absorbing spiritual energy, stacking spiritual resources until you broke through—anyone could do that.

But those who could both cultivate and fight were far more valuable to the Qing clan. This was not just for Li Yu—even the clan’s own children were trained by the same principle.

The Qing clan counted over a million members. Though there were only seven Seed candidates, those with high-grade bloodlines numbered more than a few dozen.

Too many monks, too little gruel—the scarcity bred competition. If everyone was cultivated equally, who would cherish it?

The purple stage’s light screen gradually faded.

Only then did Qing Heng turn his gaze to the green platform, his eyes growing cold.