Chapter 297: Battle of Mengshan

As his wooden sword pierced, He Lingchuan pressed a hand against Meng Shan's shoulder armor, using the recoil to spring upward. Meng Shan, embracing empty air, couldn't help but roar.

He Lingchuan performed a backflip, landing behind Meng Shan, and struck again with his blade! This time, he aimed for Meng Shan's back of the neck, a spot unprotected by his leather armor. Even without a sharp edge, a hit to this vital point could make the opponent's vision go black.

Below the stage, Sun Fuling subtly frowned and gently shook her head.

Meng Shan quickly ducked, avoiding the wooden sword. After his roar, his movements were noticeably quicker, and his physique seemed to shrink by a full yard. He then executed a forward spin with an agility unbefitting his size, striking He Lingchuan's upper body directly with his mace, fiercely and swiftly.

From the wooden studs on the mace, a thick red light erupted. These weapons were plain wooden, possessing no inherent properties. The sudden glow could only signify that Meng Shan was employing his true power, unleashing his ultimate technique.

He Lingchuan, airborne and unable to evade, took the full force of the blow and was sent flying three zhang away! He narrowly avoided falling off the stage.

Meng Shan followed like a shadow, moving with astonishing speed, catching up to He Lingchuan in two strides. The spectators saw only a blur of mace shadows, unaware that he had furiously delivered three powerful blows in three directions within half a second. However, the wind from the mace disheveled the hair of the commoners leaning on the railing.

He Lingchuan, with no way to dodge, had to channel strength into his arms, gripping his sword to block the attack. Each block felt like being struck by a giant hammer, numbing his arms and splitting the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Even more terrifying, with each strike, Meng Shan's aura intensified, eventually building into a surging tide of momentum that threatened to overwhelm him.

He Lingchuan felt his entire body locked down, as if Meng Shan's power was pressing in from all sides, pinning him to the spot, unable to move. That's how the wild boar had fallen earlier. He Lingchuan had been defeated by Meng Shan in this manner at least twice in previous challenges.

Meng Shan's three heavy blows grew stronger with each successive strike, the final one a ferociously powerful overhead swing aimed at the crown of the head. His posture resembled a relentlessly pounding pile driver. Honestly, at that moment, it made no difference whether he used an iron mace or a wooden one; the victim would have their head shattered by a single blow. The Great Wind soldiers watching felt a chill run down their spines, wondering how they would counter such an attack.

However, He Lingchuan dodged the third strike. To be precise, he braced a hand on the ground and performed a rolling tumble, sliding past Meng Shan's waist. It was as if he had been squeezed out.

Xiao Maoliang let out a long "Oh!", and Hu Min rubbed his eyes. He Lingchuan's movements were like a fish in water, contorting with tricky yet agile angles, almost instantly springing away by leveraging his waist and back. He managed to find a small gap in that all-encompassing, seemingly inescapable pressure. In that split second, he seized the opportunity.

Sun Fuling, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes. She noticed He Lingchuan's wooden sword taking the opportunity to stab Meng Shan's side, like a needle prick. But that area was protected by leather armor, and the wooden sword couldn't penetrate. And with a "clank", the weapon actually shattered on impact.

The next second, Meng Shan's hand shield arrived, smashing towards He Lingchuan's temple. The commoners below the stage gasped. In their eyes, He Lingchuan had attempted a counterattack but failed to even break through his opponent's defense, only to have his own weapon shatter. The thin man let out a sigh and clenched his fist tightly. How was this different from their previous battles? Everyone knew that if this continued, Meng Shan would be the winner again.

Though He Lingchuan's footwork was agile and varied, and his fighting style impressive, Meng Shan was not afraid of agile opponents; he simply needed to counter skill with brute force. One mistake from He Lingchuan would be irreversible. Who doesn't make mistakes? Time was on Meng Shan's side.

Fortunately, He Lingchuan remained undisturbed and didn't linger in combat; he grabbed the remaining wooden sword hilt and moved, narrowly dodging the shield strike at the last second, and rolled five feet away with the momentum. Meng Shan's hand shield struck empty air.

The wooden sword, having endured three powerful blows from Meng Shan, had reached the end of its lifespan, regardless of its initial quality. It was precisely because He Lingchuan saw the visible cracks on the blade and felt its fragility, knowing it couldn't withstand another strike, that he desperately dodged Meng Shan's overhead mace blow. A martial artist must have a clear judgment of their weapon's condition.

After Meng Shan's miss, he immediately followed with a powerful stomp, then a sweeping mace attack after a forward lunge. The stage floor trembled like an 8 or 9 magnitude earthquake. Xiao Maoliang and other Great Wind soldiers who witnessed this move felt a strong sense of familiarity. Half a year prior, in the Battle of Yanhe Valley, Meng Shan had toppled many people in the same way. His timing was excellent; He Lingchuan had just gotten to his feet and was unstable. If he fell, he certainly wouldn't be able to withstand the subsequent mace wind. The long mace swept across, its wind extending over two zhang, creating a sharp "whoosh" in the air and a powerful sense of oppression. Though invisible, being hit by it would certainly not end well. This single move was enough for Meng Shan to be counted among the martial generals. It was clear that He Lingchuan wasn't the only one who had improved over the past half-year.

Those with discerning eyes in the audience erupted in cheers. However, the moment He Lingchuan saw Meng Shan raise his knee, he knew what he intended. As the enemy's large foot landed on the stage, he pushed off with one hand and leaped backward, precisely dodging the stomp's impact, and jumped behind the weapon rack. This rack was firmly nailed to the edge of the arena, and it took the full force of the mace wind in his stead.

With a clatter, the rack broke in two from the middle, and the weapons on top scattered chaotically. He Lingchuan casually grabbed a few wooden throwing knives and flung them at Meng Shan's eyes and throat. Meng Shan raised his shield and charged forward; all the throwing knives struck the shield. The distance between them was only about two zhang, and with his height and long legs, he covered it in two strides. He Lingchuan, however, grabbed another wooden long sword and engaged him in combat. Within moments, they exchanged more than a dozen blows.

Hu Min watched intently. "This kid with the broken sword, he's really something," he commented. Facing an opponent who dominated with sheer force, He Lingchuan consistently dodged in the nick of time, even taking direct hits on a few occasions. He clearly understood Meng Shan's attack patterns, appearing increasingly at ease.

One powerful, one agile, the duel was extremely captivating. The surrounding soldiers and civilians applauded continuously, feeling they had truly gotten their fill of excitement. However, both combatants had entered a state of complete focus, intent only on victory or death!

Xiao Maoliang suddenly said, "Meng Shan is slowing down." Those watching outside Ring No. 7 weren't entirely clear, but discerning eyes could notice that Meng Shan's attack speed, turns, strikes, and even his offensive and evasive footwork were at least half a beat slower than before. With a decrease in speed, the profound, mountain-like oppressive feeling diminished by at least half. Looking at Meng Shan, his facial muscles were contorted, and veins throbbed at his temples.

Sun Fuling suddenly said, "Meng Shan's internal injuries are not light." Her voice was very soft, heard only by Commander Xiao, who subtly frowned. He Lingchuan's earlier attacks had taken effect.

Meng Shan was indeed injured. Every time he turned, there was a sharp pain where the wooden sword had struck his side; with each breath, his diaphragm felt a piercing irritation, as if stabbed. He Lingchuan's previous two strikes had seemed not to break his defense, yet a surge of true power had permeated through, wreaking havoc internally and lingering persistently. Others didn't know, but Meng Shan himself felt it; his liver, gallbladder, and lungs were likely injured. His vision had blurred several times, and he felt an urge to vomit.

"No, I must end this quickly!" Meng Shan, who had always dominated the ring, defeating opponents with a cat-and-mouse approach, finally, for the first time, found the time on the stage too long. His eyes darted; he deliberately staggered, leaving his chest wide open. Such an opportunity was rare, and his opponent naturally wouldn't miss it. He Lingchuan's blade tip spun, aiming directly for his throat. Meng Shan endured the intense pain, puffed out his chest and abdomen, and unleashed a roar directly at the enemy in front of him!

The sound was like a lion's roar in one's ear, shattering courage and spirit. He still had his back facing outward, but several commoners near the edge of the stage collapsed at the sound, unconscious. Meanwhile, He Lingchuan, directly in front of him, faced the powerful sonic attack; the shockwave was ten times more explosive than thunder, even pushing his entire body backward! Meng Shan's roar used all his strength, causing blood to spray from his lungs. Finally catching He Lingchuan, he wouldn't miss this last chance; his right hand swept the large mace, finally striking his opponent!

However, as He Lingchuan was struck and sent flying, his long sword also flew from his grasp, and Meng Shan leaned back, avoiding the blade tip. Yet, there was still an invisible aura, a foot long, extending from the blade tip, precisely striking his Adam's apple!

Amidst the crowd's gasps, He Lingchuan was swept a zhang away, rolled twice on landing, spat out a large mouthful of blood, and failed to get up despite two attempts to push himself off the ground. Meng Shan, opposite him, remained motionless. The wooden sword fell to the ground, rolling half a turn.

Sun Fuling uttered silently: "He won."

The arena was silent for several seconds, then Meng Shan suddenly coughed up blood. Once he started, it was uncontrollable; blood gushed like a fountain, and he toppled like a collapsing mountain, falling heavily to his knees. He felt his internal organs churning, as if two blades of ice and fire were scraping them in turn. His mind was completely dizzy, and he saw multiple blurred images of He Lingchuan rushing towards him.

A gasp swept through the audience. Most people didn't understand what had happened; they only knew that He Lingchuan had been knocked down by Meng Shan's mace, yet Meng Shan appeared more severely injured, unable even to stand. It was truly baffling.

He Lingchuan reached Meng Shan in two steps and gently touched his temple with a fingertip. Meng Shan couldn't even withstand this slight touch and toppled over. Silence fell around Ring No. 7, and disbelief filled everyone's eyes. They naturally didn't know that Meng Shan had already been struggling due to the force of the first two sword strikes, with his accumulated internal injuries gradually worsening. At that moment, combined with the damage from He Lingchuan's third sword strike, all his injuries burst forth! This was the effect of repeated, persistent blows. In contrast, He Lingchuan had only suffered superficial injuries from beginning to end. Indeed, time was on his side.

He Lingchuan clutched his left arm and shouted into the yard, "Someone! He needs medical attention!" A Luo rushed onto the stage with a medicine box, ordering two soldiers to turn Meng Shan over. They saw blood flowing from all seven of his orifices, his eyes staring blankly. It was then that the audience's excitement finally erupted, with thunderous applause and cheers filling the air.

A Luo, busy at work, couldn't help but ask, "How did you do this to him?" He hadn't seen clearly what had just happened.

"I got lucky."

"Your shoulder injury is also severe; let me treat it!" After all, He Lingchuan was one of their own, and A Luo's heart had been biased from the start. As for Meng Shan, he could wait.