"Dark Energy..." Zhao Kui’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His heart felt heavy.

He was only at the Peak of Mingjin, separated from Dark Energy by a vast chasm. This Yang Jing looked young, but he was already a Dark Energy master. Facing Yang Jing now, Zhao Kui couldn’t help but feel his stomach churning with anxiety.

He secretly glanced at Yang Jing. The young man’s expression was calm, his eyes holding no trace of condescension. But it was precisely this placid demeanor that intensified Zhao Kui’s pressure. The composure of an expert was often more intimidating than deliberate arrogance.

Hah! Zhao Kui took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

Fortunately, his opponent was Yang Jing.

’I’m lucky,’ he thought to himself. If he had run into Shen Lie, Qian Feng, or Chen Wu—those three long-established Dark Energy masters—he probably wouldn’t even have had the courage to step onto the stage. Their techniques were ruthless and seasoned. Dealing with someone at the Peak of Mingjin would be child’s play for them.

But Yang Jing was different. He’d heard that Yang Jing had only recently emerged and didn’t have a big reputation. ’Could it be that he just broke through to Dark Energy and his foundation isn’t solid yet?’

A faint glimmer of hope ignited in Zhao Kui’s heart. He clenched his fists, his ten fingers curling as he meticulously assumed the stance for the Iron Claw Skill.

Standing on this stage, even with just a sliver of hope, he was determined to give it his all.

Yang Jing stood firm in the center of the ring, his gaze falling on Zhao Kui’s tense shoulders and faintly trembling fingertips. He could tell his opponent was under immense pressure.

He didn’t take the initiative to attack, merely waiting quietly as Dark Energy circulated slowly within his Dantian, ready to respond at any moment.

The Official retreated to the edge of the stage and shouted, "The match begins!"

The moment the Official’s word "begins" fell, Zhao Kui moved.

He stomped his foot hard, making the green brick floor tremble slightly. His body shot forward like a poised leopard pouncing on Yang Jing, his hands formed into hooks. With a sharp sound of tearing air, he aimed straight for Yang Jing’s shoulders. This was the Iron Claw Skill’s killing move, "Tendon-Splitter, Bone-Breaker," a vicious technique designed specifically to destroy joints.

Yang Jing’s eyes narrowed. His opponent’s lunge was full of power. Though also at the Peak of Mingjin, his presence was a cut above the likes of Zhao Meng and Qian Bao. No wonder he’d made it to the third round.

He neither dodged nor retreated. As Zhao Kui’s claws were about to arrive, Yang Jing’s right foot slid back half a step. With a slight twist of his waist, he raised his hand in a deceptively slow motion, the edge of his palm like a knife, and precisely chopped at the pressure point on the inside of Zhao Kui’s wrist.

With a sharp CRACK, Zhao Kui felt his wrist go numb, and the momentum of his claw attack immediately faltered.

Alarmed, he hadn’t expected Yang Jing to react so quickly. He hurriedly changed his move, pulling his left claw back to guard his chest while turning his right claw into a fist, sending it whistling toward Yang Jing’s ribs.

This punch contained the full force of his Mingjin, the surface of his fist seeming to glow with a faint white sheen.

Even without using his Raging Wave Kicks, a Dark Energy Martial Artist’s Body Technique and speed were on another level compared to a Mingjin Martial Artist’s. Facing a Mingjin Martial Artist, Yang Jing’s advantage in movement wasn’t so great that it would draw too much attention.

Now, his footwork shifted. He dodged the fist as if taking a leisurely stroll, simultaneously reaching out with his left hand. He brought his index and middle fingers together and lightly tapped the back of Zhao Kui’s fist.

The tap seemed weightless, yet it carried a clever force, striking precisely at the point where Zhao Kui was exerting his power.

Zhao Kui felt the power in his fist instantly dissipate. His entire arm grew sore and numb, as if the bones were about to fall apart.

"Such fast Body Technique!"

Zhao Kui was horrified. He abruptly dropped his stance, his claws flashing in an alternating flurry. Shadows of his claws multiplied as he pushed his Iron Claw Skill to its absolute limit. For a moment, it was as if a foul wind had swept across the stage, the gusts from his claws blanketing all of Yang Jing’s vital points.

Yang Jing remained composed. He deliberately restrained the force of his Dark Energy, using only fifty or sixty percent of his power to respond as he weaved nimbly through the claw shadows. He occasionally raised a hand to block, each contact precisely deflecting his opponent’s force.

On the third move, he seized the opening when Zhao Kui’s old force was spent and new force had yet to be generated. The wind from his palm strike swept out and slapped Zhao Kui’s elbow.

Zhao Kui staggered back three steps, unable to lift his left arm.

On the fourth move, Yang Jing pressed forward. His fist seemed to move slowly, yet it arrived first, landing squarely on Zhao Kui’s chest.

The punch only used fifty or sixty percent of his strength, but Zhao Kui felt as if he’d been struck by a sledgehammer. He let out a muffled grunt and stumbled back repeatedly until he slammed into the ring’s ropes and railings.

Yang Jing didn’t pursue, simply standing his ground and watching the pale-faced Zhao Kui.

Zhao Kui clutched his chest. Looking at Yang Jing’s calm eyes, he knew that continuing to fight would only be asking for more humiliation.

He took a deep breath, shook his head with a bitter smile, and cupped his fist. "I surrender."

His voice held a mix of relief and reluctance. In the end, he was a full realm weaker. The gap between Mingjin and Dark Energy was simply too vast.

"You let me win," Yang Jing replied, cupping his fist in return. His tone was level.

Zhao Kui looked at Yang Jing, knowing in his heart that there was no shame in being defeated within five moves by an expert of this caliber.

As for himself, he had already reached his limit just by making it this far.

Yang Jing slowly relaxed his stance. ’I’m not deliberately suppressing my strength. I just don’t want to be too ostentatious before I face a real opponent. It’s best to make them underestimate me. After all, the real show is yet to come.’

The middle-aged man in the Official’s uniform walked onto the stage, holding a record book. He cleared his throat and announced loudly, "Third round, first match: Yang Jing of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall is the winner!"

As soon as the announcement was made, Yang Jing gave Zhao Kui a slight nod, then turned and walked off the stage.

Zhao Kui clutched his chest, his steps a little unsteady. He cupped his fist toward Yang Jing one more time before also getting off the stage.

Among the Martial Artists watching below, Shen Lie was toying with the Jade Pendant at his waist. The corner of his eye caught Yang Jing’s retreating back, and his lips curved into a barely perceptible smile.

’That Zhao Kui is only at the Peak of Mingjin. Beating him is nothing special.’

He thought to himself, his fingertips tracing the patterns on the Jade Pendant as the aura of a Dark Energy Martial Artist faintly pulsed around him. ’If he really ran into a tough opponent, he wouldn’t be able to maintain that effortless posture.’

In his view, while Yang Jing’s dodges had been nimble, his strikes were too shallow. He hadn’t even revealed the fierce power of Dark Energy. At best, he was a fledgling who had just broken through.

Chen Wu and Qian Feng exchanged a glance, each seeing the calm in the other’s eyes.

To them, Yang Jing had clearly just broken through to Dark Energy and was not a real competitor. The top spot on Ring Seven would be decided between the two of them and Shen Lie.

...

The third round of matches continued, one after another. The sounds of gongs and clashing fists rose and fell, but they were much more sparse than before.

After each match, a Martial Artist would leave dejectedly. The number of figures inside the training ground’s enclosure visibly dwindled. The once-packed open space gradually began to look sparse.

When the final match concluded and the middle-aged Official loudly announced the results of Ring Seven’s quarter-finals, only a handful of people remained inside the enclosure.

Shen Lie, Qian Feng, Chen Wu, and Yang Jing—the four Dark Energy Martial Artists—stood in their respective corners. Though separated by some distance, they seemed locked in an invisible standoff.

The same was true for the surrounding rings. Those who remained were the elite, filtered out as if by great waves washing away sand. It was rare to see a Mingjin Martial Artist anymore.

The weak had long since been eliminated, moving outside the enclosure to watch the proceedings with either frustration or relief.

Every single person who remained radiated an aura that could not be underestimated.

The air inside the enclosure felt compressed, so heavy it was hard to breathe. Even the wind seemed to carry a sense of tension.

The murmurs that could be heard earlier had all but vanished. Most of the Martial Artists either had their eyes closed to regulate their breathing or were sharply scanning their potential opponents, their own breathing much lighter.

Everyone understood that the upcoming semi-finals were the true life-and-death struggle. Every single move could determine who stayed and who left. There was no room for luck.

Finally, the middle-aged man in the Official’s uniform once again walked up to the high platform, the roster in his hand noticeably thinner than before.

He cleared his throat, his voice ringing out with unquestionable authority in the silent arena. "Ring Seven, fourth round, semi-finals. Begin now."

Outside the enclosure, pairs of eyes peered through the wooden railings, fixated on the four people beside Ring Seven.

The competition had reached its most critical moment.

Yang Jing didn’t notice that his senior sister, Sun Ningxiang, had arrived at some point and was now watching him quietly from behind the enclosure.

...