On the platform, Lin Yue lay motionless, the collar of his gray martial arts attire blasted to shreds.

Beneath him, a shocking pool of blood slowly spread across the wooden boards, so dark a red it was nearly black.

The Silver Armor Captain cautiously checked for his breath, a barely perceptible gravity in his movements.

"This—"

Disbelief was written all over Yang Jing’s face.

Although Lin Yue was arrogant, there was no denying his strength.

He might not have reached the Peak of Dark Energy, but he wasn’t far from it.

Coupled with his natural talent and combat prowess, he was definitely top-tier among the younger generation. Even the Martial Arts Hall’s senior disciple, Xu Hong, was no match for him.

But now, this star pupil of the Martial Arts Hall had been defeated in a near-total rout, beaten unconscious and severely injured!

Just moments ago, Yang Jing had been focused on tending to his own injuries and hadn’t paid much attention to the fight. Now, the murmurs of the surrounding Martial Artists and spectators washed over him like a tide, trickling into his ears in fragmented pieces, and he quickly understood what had transpired.

Li Mengchao clearly possessed the strength to crush Lin Yue, just as Qin Yu had dominated him.

But Li Mengchao had deliberately hidden his power, luring Lin Yue into making a careless mistake.

The moment an opportunity arose, he unleashed his full strength. Caught completely off guard, Lin Yue took a palm strike to the chest and was now hovering between life and death.

Yang Jing took a deep breath to calm his turbulent emotions, but his throat tightened as his gaze fell upon the pool of blood.

He suddenly realized this ranking competition was far more brutal than he had imagined.

These opponents, who appeared so nonchalant, could be hiding deadly fangs. The slightest misstep could lead to utter ruin.

Watching the unconscious Lin Yue on the platform, Yang Jing slowly rose to his feet. He suppressed the tremor in his heart and walked onto the stage, one step at a time.

He stopped when he reached Lin Yue’s side.

Sunlight slanted through the gaps in the railing, illuminating Lin Yue’s chest. The faint golden handprint was especially glaring.

Its edges were bruised a dark blue, and the center was sunken in as if it had been branded into his very flesh. Even the surrounding fabric was scorched black from the force.

Yang Jing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He felt a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet, and his clenched fists grew clammy with sweat.

’What vicious methods.’

He sighed inwardly.

He could have won easily, yet he chose to hide his strength, waiting for his opponent to exhaust their energy and reveal a flaw before striking with overwhelming, ruthless force.

Such cunning and cruelty were even more fearsome than pure strength.

’If I really run into Li Mengchao in the next round,’ Yang Jing couldn’t help but think, ’my own meager skills will be no match. I’d have to forfeit beforehand.’

Having backbone was one thing, but there was no need to end up in the same state as Lin Yue.

Yang Jing was also confused.

Generally speaking, contestants in the tournament wouldn’t use such heavy-handed tactics unless there was a major feud.

Li Mengchao had also fought five matches yesterday, but there were no reports of him severely injuring anyone.

’How could this happen to Lin Yue... Did Lin Yue offend him? Or maybe the Li Family?’

Yang Jing suppressed his chaotic thoughts and squatted down, looking at Lin Yue’s deathly pale face.

Those eyes, which usually held a look of contempt, were now shut tight. His brows, however, were still knitted together, as if he were still fuming over his defeat even in unconsciousness.

Yang Jing pursed his lips. His opinion of the man hadn’t improved. Lin Yue always put on the airs of a genius, ordering everyone around and looking down on them. And now he had ended up like this.

Yang Jing took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and reached down to lift Lin Yue by the waist.

He was heavier than expected. Lin Yue was tall, and now that he was unconscious, his entire body was limp, his full weight pressing down on Yang Jing’s arms.

He tensed his waist slightly to lift. The fabric on Lin Yue’s chest brushed against his arm, leaving a sticky, wet sensation. It was blood.

Yang Jing frowned and quickened his pace, heading off the platform.

By the time he reached the railing, a circle of disciples from Sun’s Martial Arts Hall had already gathered outside. At their head, Sun Yong’s face was ashen as he gripped the railing tightly.

Seeing Yang Jing emerge with Lin Yue in his arms, Xu Hong was the first to leap forward, reaching over the railing. "Junior Brother Yang, let me take him!"

Yang Jing nodded and handed Lin Yue over.

As Xu Hong took Lin Yue, his hand brushed against the handprint, and he couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

Sun Yong, who was beside them, also hurried over.

When his fingers touched the faint golden palm print on Lin Yue’s chest, the stiff sensation at his fingertips made his heart sink.

He gently pressed it with the pad of his finger. Lin Yue’s body immediately convulsed, a faint groan escaping his throat as another trickle of black blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"Such overwhelming Palm Force..." Sun Yong’s voice was icy, his expression even uglier than when he was in the stands.

He had been based in Yuhe County for over thirty years and had crossed paths with experts from the Li Family before. He’d long heard of the tyrannical power of the Vajra Hand Seal, but he never expected someone as young as Li Mengchao to have mastered it to such a degree.

The Palm Force had not only injured the flesh but had also sent a sinister, cold Inner Strength boring into his meridians. If this was left untreated for too long, forget his future in the Martial Dao—it was uncertain if he could even keep his life.

"Quick! Get him to a physician’s hall, now!"

Sun Yong shot his head up and barked at the disciples beside him.

Xu Hong and the others quickly complied, carefully carrying Lin Yue toward the exit of the training grounds.

Sun Yong followed a few steps behind them, then stopped abruptly and turned to look at Yang Jing, who was still standing by the railing.

In the sunlight, Yang Jing’s figure looked somewhat frail. His face still carried the lingering fatigue from his previous match. Only his eyes were fixed on him now.

Sun Yong sighed inwardly. He knew things hadn’t been easy for Yang Jing either; it was a stroke of luck that he’d escaped his fight with Qin Yu unscathed. But right now, he simply didn’t have the mental energy to worry about this disciple.

Lin Yue was the most promising genius among all the disciples of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall, the one with the best chance of achieving the next breakthrough. Only he himself knew how much effort he had poured into Lin Yue.

Forget the tournament; even if it meant losing the Martial Arts Hall’s reputation today, his priority was to save Lin Yue.

"Yang Jing."

Sun Yong walked over, his voice much lower. "Listen to me. In your upcoming matches, if you face an opponent you can’t beat, don’t try to tough it out. Forfeit immediately."

He paused, then added, "Saving yourself is what’s most important. Understand?"

The meaning behind his words couldn’t be clearer: he no longer held any expectations for Yang Jing.

Or rather, he no longer held any expectations for the Sun’s Martial Arts Hall’s performance in this year’s tournament.

Now that Lin Yue, their best hope for making the tournament rankings, was severely injured and unconscious, he was fated to have no chance of competing for a spot.

As for Yang Jing, his strength was ultimately insufficient. It was already a remarkable feat for him to have made it this far; it was nearly impossible for him to make the tournament rankings.

Yang Jing was stunned for a moment, then nodded. "This disciple understands."

Sun Yong then looked at Liu Maolin beside him. "The few of you, stay behind and look after Yang Jing."

With that, he didn’t linger, turning to hurry after the disciples carrying Lin Yue, his back a picture of haste.

Liu Maolin watched Sun Yong depart, then glanced at Yang Jing. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately swallowed his words.

He knew his master’s heart. In their master’s eyes, Lin Yue ultimately weighed more than anyone else—and certainly more than Yang Jing.

Yang Jing stood his ground, watching as Sun Yong and the others disappeared at the training ground’s entrance. He didn’t feel disappointed, exactly, just a bit empty.

He looked down at his hands, where the stain of blood from Lin Yue’s clothes seemed to linger.

From the central platform, the Silver Armor Captain’s voice rang out again. The uproar continued, but for Sun’s Martial Arts Hall, this year’s tournament seemed to have already come to an early end.

After Sun Yong left in a hurry with Lin Yue, the discussions on the training grounds surged like a tide for a moment before being drowned out by the gong signaling the next match.

The Silver Armor Captain announced in a loud, expressionless voice, "Match four! The Martial Artists who drew the ’Ding’ lots: He Han, the top fighter from Platform Six, versus Zhou Zhiqiang, the top fighter from Platform Eight. Both of you, to the stage!"

He Han from Platform Six and Zhou Zhiqiang from Platform Eight answered the call.

He Han’s expression was grave, as if he were still reeling from the miserable sight of Lin Yue being grievously wounded by Li Mengchao.

Zhou Zhiqiang, however, had a sharp gaze. He strode onto the platform with great purpose, his aura no less imposing than Li Mengchao’s had been.

They exchanged no more than thirty moves before Zhou Zhiqiang sent He Han stumbling back several steps with a ferocious swing, nearly knocking him off the platform.

He Han gritted his teeth and tried to stabilize himself, but Zhou Zhiqiang seized the opening, tripping him with a sweep kick. A barrage of Heavy Fists immediately followed. He Han retreated again and again, completely suppressed by Zhou Zhiqiang’s assault. The blows made his internal organs tremble, and in the end, he had no choice but to concede.

...

PS:

Let me explain something to everyone here.

I really did go out to eat yesterday, and yes, there were some god-tier authors there.

But it wasn’t Chen Dong, Tiancan Tadou, or I Eat Tomatoes, so don’t get your hopes up.

I’m not very close with them, so I didn’t invite them.

Once we get to know each other better and they treat me to a five-star hotel dinner with Maotai on the table, I’ll be sure to send you all a picture.