"Hah!"

He Han’s ferocity was ignited. He struck out with both palms, fully displaying the tearing, grabbing, chopping, and slapping motions of the Black Tiger Palm. The wind from his palms howled, kicking up debris from the arena floor.

His Inner Strength was a notch above Yang Jing’s, and his palm technique was fierce and powerful. In a direct clash, Yang Jing would be at a disadvantage.

But Yang Jing refused to meet him head-on. The footwork of his Surging Waves Leg Technique allowed him to evade the brunt of the palm strikes by a hair’s breadth, and the shadow of his Mountain-Shattering Fist would immediately follow like a phantom.

At times, he would use his footwork to glide a dozen feet away, avoiding He Han’s wild attacks. Then he would suddenly cut back, his right fist gathering all his strength to strike at his opponent’s opening.

The wind from their fists and palms intertwined on the arena stage. The sound of BANG! BANG! was incessant, and every collision made the air tremble.

He Han was gradually growing anxious.

His Black Tiger Palm excelled in ferocious power, requiring close-quarters combat to unleash its full potential. But Yang Jing’s footwork was too nimble, like a slippery fish, always landing a punch just as his Palm Force was about to be spent.

He tried to increase the speed of his palms, only to find that his opponent’s footwork sped up in response. The swiftness of the Surging Waves Leg Technique allowed Yang Jing to seize the initiative.

BANG!

Using the Surging Waves Leg Technique’s "Tumbling in the Waves" move, Yang Jing dodged He Han’s left palm. His right fist shot forward in the same motion, unleashing the full power of the Mountain-Shattering Fist’s "Stone-Splitting" stance. The fist, carrying the force to shatter boulders, grazed past He Han’s arm and slammed viciously into his shoulder.

He Han let out a muffled grunt. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, and his body swayed involuntarily.

Only then did he understand. Yang Jing’s leg technique seemed to lack offensive power, but it was like an invisible thread that controlled the entire flow of battle, making his already ferocious Mountain-Shattering Fist all the more deadly.

Yang Jing pressed his advantage, not giving an inch. The footwork of his Surging Waves Leg Technique shifted again as he closed the distance. He feinted with his left fist while his right gathered Inner Strength, aiming straight for He Han’s chest.

Before the fist even arrived, the wind it generated made his opponent’s collar flap wildly.

He Han hastily brought up a palm to block, but his injured shoulder slowed his movement by a fraction. The gust from the punch swept across his arm, forcing him back several steps and nearly sending him into the railings at the edge of the arena.

Wood splinters and stone chips flew across the arena. Yang Jing’s figure weaved around He Han, the agility of his Surging Waves Leg Technique and the ferocity of his Mountain-Shattering Fist intertwining. A web of fist-shadows closed in, pressing him with every step.

Although He Han’s Black Tiger Palm still had power, it was gradually being suppressed. He could only manage to parry, the veins on his forehead bulging. It was clear he was running out of steam.

Standing below the arena, the Silver Armor Captain nodded slightly, his gaze lingering on Yang Jing. ’This young man has combined his fist and leg techniques perfectly. The footwork creates openings for the fists, and the fists draw power from the steps. A perfect blend of hard and soft. He’s clearly a smart fighter who uses his head.’

Yang Jing spotted an opening. He tapped the ground lightly with his Surging Waves Leg Technique, his body abruptly rising half a foot to evade He Han’s sweeping right palm. At the same time, his right fist exploded forward like a clap of thunder, the unyielding power of the Mountain-Shattering Fist pouring out without reservation as he aimed straight for his opponent’s face.

The punch was both fast and heavy. He Han cried out in alarm and hastily leaned back to dodge, but the wind from the fist still grazed the tip of his nose. A stinging sensation surged through him, and his vision blurred for a moment.

Yang Jing seized the opportunity to press closer, his fists weaving another flurry of shadows. His assault was like a tidal wave. The tide of the battle had quietly turned.

With Yang Jing’s agile Body Technique and speed, once he took the lead, he never lost it.

The muffled thuds of fists meeting palms grew more rapid on the arena stage. Yang Jing’s figure moved around He Han, propelled by the agility of his Surging Waves Leg Technique. The wind from his Mountain-Shattering Fist followed like a shadow, each punch carrying the force to shake a mountain, forcing He Han to retreat again and again.

The veins on He Han’s forehead bulged. His palms were numb from the impacts, and the wound on his shoulder throbbed with a dull ache.

He knew he couldn’t retreat any further.

This fight was his last chance.

Sixth place, according to the rules of previous years, offered at least some hope of making it onto the Martial Trials roster.

But if he fell to seventh, it was tantamount to elimination. Yuhe County had almost never seen more than six people pass the Martial Trials.

’I’ll risk it all!’

A vicious glint flashed in He Han’s eyes. With a sudden, low roar, he pushed his Inner Strength to its absolute limit.

He unleashed the Black Tiger Palm’s "Fierce Tiger Rips Out the Heart" with all his might. His palms formed into claws, lunging straight for Yang Jing’s chest with a sharp whistle that tore through the air. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing attack that completely disregarded his own defense.

His Inner Strength was already a sliver stronger than Yang Jing’s. Now, with everything on the line, the wind from his palms instantly turned savage, as if a real black tiger were pouncing with a roar.

Yang Jing’s eyes narrowed. The footwork of his Surging Waves Leg Technique changed abruptly. He executed the "Crashing Wave Gyration," spinning like a top for a dozen feet and narrowly, so narrowly, evading the killing blow.

He Han’s palms grazed past his collar, the wind from the strike making his chest feel tight. But Yang Jing immediately used the momentum to twist his body, his right fist gathering all his strength. The Stone-Splitting stance of his Mountain-Shattering Fist, accompanied by a whistling wind, slammed toward He Han’s ribs from an unbelievable angle.

The punch came too quickly. He Han’s old force was spent, and new force had yet to be generated. He had no time to defend.

POW!

The fist landed solidly on his soft ribs. He Han felt a piercing agony, and his Inner Strength instantly dissipated. His body flew backward like a kite with a snapped string.

CRACK!

He crashed heavily into the railings at the edge of the arena. The wooden barrier let out a groan as if unable to bear the weight, bending outward from the impact.

If he gave He Han even a moment to catch his breath, the man would dare to continue the fight. In the end, regardless of victory or defeat, it would only be detrimental to Yang Jing, with no benefit whatsoever!

He Han slid to the ground, clutching his side and curling up. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and every breath brought a tearing pain.

Yang Jing did not press the attack. He simply stood in place, catching his breath. The continuous exertion of the Mountain-Shattering Fist had consumed a great deal of his Inner Strength, and his back was soaked with sweat.

He looked at He Han on the ground, knowing his opponent couldn’t continue.

He Han struggled to get up, but as soon as he lifted his head, the sharp pain in his side made his vision go black.

He looked at Yang Jing’s calm eyes, then at the gazes of the officials on the main stage. The last shred of hope in his heart was extinguished.

He knew that he had lost this fight, lost completely and utterly.

"I... concede."

He Han’s voice was hoarse, filled with an indescribable bitterness.

As he spoke those two words, it was as if all the strength had been drained from his body. He collapsed limply to the ground, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.

Seventh place. In the end, this was his fate, destined to miss out on this year’s Martial Trials roster.

The arena instantly fell silent, with only the sound of their two ragged breaths echoing in the air.

Watching He Han’s devastated expression, Yang Jing couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

’If this He Han had stubbornly insisted on fighting, I would have had no choice but to knock him out cold, just like Lin Yue.’

But He Han wasn’t like yesterday’s opponent, Shen Lie. Unless it was the last resort, Yang Jing was unwilling to go that far.

At that moment, the Silver Armor Captain walked onto the arena with steady steps, the plates of his armor clinking crisply.

His gaze swept over the area below the stage, and his voice boomed like a bell. "Group Two, first match! The winner is Yang Jing!"

As his voice fell, a wave of fierce cheers erupted from below the arena.

The Silver Armor Captain bent down to check He Han’s injuries, then motioned to the soldiers beside him. The two of them carefully carried He Han away.

Yang Jing took a deep breath, suppressing the roiling qi and blood in his body, and walked steadily off the stage.

His back was drenched in cold sweat. Although his all-out strike with the Mountain-Shattering Fist had defeated his opponent, it also left his right arm throbbing with a dull pain. Moreover, he had consumed more than half of his Inner Strength.

Arriving at the rest area below the main stage, he found a spacious, empty corner and sat down, quickly pulling a small jade vial from his robes.

He uncorked the stopper, and a clean, medicinal fragrance instantly filled the air. Inside was the very Rejuvenation Pill that Liu Maolin had given him the day before.

He tipped out a lustrous, smooth Elixir Pill and tilted his head back to swallow it.

The Elixir dissolved the moment it entered his mouth, transforming into a gentle, warm current that slid down his throat and slowly flowed through his meridians.

His once-stagnant Inner Strength seemed to be revitalized, and it began to circulate slowly once more.

The soreness in his right arm gradually subsided, and the tightness in his chest also dissipated significantly.

Yang Jing closed his eyes and focused on regulating his breath, guiding the Elixir’s medicinal power to circulate through his body, striving to recover his condition in the shortest time possible.

The surrounding clamor seemed to be shut out as he focused solely on recovering his Inner Strength.

After all, the coming matches would only be more difficult. He had to return to his peak condition as quickly as possible if he wanted any chance of advancing further.

...