Chapter 47: Yang Xingyong

Amongst warriors, close-quarters combat undeniably serves as a brutal crucible, testing fundamental reflexes and revealing the very bedrock of one's martial prowess.

The cultivators hailing from Three Mountains City, having spent their formative years leaping across peaks as easily as traversing a level plain, and having grappled with lions and tigers, were naturally formidable. Though engaging in such close-quarter brawls was indeed a gambit on his part, the cultivator from Three Mountains City harbored a measure of confidence.

However, the Four Spirits Refining Body Technique cultivated by Jiang Wang, a peerless method forged within the crucible of the military and perfected upon the Dao Platform of the Tai Xu Illusory Realm, stood at this juncture as a peak-tier body refinement technique.

Jiang Wang's musculature, while perhaps not exceeding the resilience of forged steel, was not far removed. The vast reserves of Qi and blood slumbered within each fiber, ordinarily not particularly conspicuous. Yet, in a confrontation like the present, they erupted with a ferocity heretofore unseen!

*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Fists met fists, legs clashed with legs, knees struck knees, and elbows slammed against elbows.

The impact of their fists striking each other echoed like the beat of a war drum.

This raw intensity of physical force was an experience Jiang Wang had never encountered before. In the throes of such a battle, he felt the Four Spirits Refining Body Technique gradually integrating itself into his very being. Though he had previously trained diligently, he was, after all, from the Dao Academy and lacked a true understanding of genuine body refinement.

In these direct collisions, he felt his Qi and blood surge with greater fullness, his body grow stronger, his Dao Yuan become more vibrant. And he also felt... his opponent's strength gradually wane.

*Boom!*

In the final, head-on collision, the cultivator from Three Mountains City staggered backward.

It wasn't a lack of desire to continue, but rather the inability to wring forth even a single additional ounce of strength.

The sheer magnitude of his effort, the desperation with which he fought, perhaps only Jiang Wang, his adversary in this struggle, truly comprehended.

On several occasions, Jiang Wang believed the battle was decided, only to be met by his opponent's relentless fists.

He keenly sensed the steel-like will of this cultivator from Three Mountains City.

He fought with every fiber of his being for victory.

They did not wish to be branded as barbarians!

Yet, the tragic irony was that the harder they fought in this manner, the more people would declare, "Look, this is how barbarians are; they have no regard for their own lives."

......

The referee raised the flag, signifying the end of the bout and the determination of victory and defeat.

A moment of silence fell over the surrounding spectators, which then erupted into a crescendo of cheers.

After all, this was Maple Forest City, Jiang Wang's home ground. Not to mention the few burly men hired by Zhao Rucheng who roared with all their might. For the generous reward, they could truly be said to have exerted their utmost. It seemed their passion even surpassed Jiang An'an's devotion to her brother.

Amidst the boiling cheers, Jiang Wang extended a hand and grasped his opponent, preventing him from falling to the ground.

"May I inquire your name?" Jiang Wang looked at this worthy opponent, expressing his respect.

In truth, before the competition commenced, the referee had announced the names of both contenders, but Jiang Wang hadn't paid heed.

Like many ordinary folk, though he did not display it overtly, he had been influenced since childhood and indeed held a degree of disdain for these so-called "mountain barbarians."

The cultivator from Three Mountains City stood swaying, nearly his entire weight supported by Jiang Wang's hand. His eyes were swollen and narrowed into mere slits.

"Yang Xingyong!" he exclaimed, a hint of joy in his voice. "My name is Yang Xingyong!"

......

Outside the arena, Jiang An'an was clapping for her brother when she suddenly heard the voice of her good friend, "An'an!"

Little Qingzhi leaped up from the crowd in the distance, excitedly squeezing her way towards Jiang An'an.

Beside her stood an elderly man, thin and hunched. Yet in such a dense throng, they navigated their way without any obstruction, seemingly not inconveniencing anyone.

Everyone's gaze was drawn to Jiang An'an's companions, particularly curious about the little girl who had vowed to pummel Jiang Wang.

Huang Azhan's perspective had always been unique, and his attention was immediately drawn to the hunched old man.

The old man's face... was rather peculiar. Despite his solemn expression, he inherently radiated a sense of... seediness.

Huang Azhan nudged Zhao Rucheng with his elbow. "Hey, look at that old man."

"What's wrong?" Zhao Rucheng inquired.

Huang Azhan lowered his voice. "Don't you think his head... looks a lot like... a lot like..."

"Looks like what?"

Huang Azhan remained silent, merely casting a glance downward towards his crotch.

Zhao Rucheng's initial reaction was one of vigilance. "What are you looking at!"

Then, comprehending the implication, he too glanced in that direction and stroked his chin. "Hey! It is a bit like..."

Their whispers here, unexpectedly, caused the hunched old man to suddenly raise his head and glare at them. Clearly, he had overheard their conversation.

"Don't talk, don't talk, watch the match," Huang Azhan awkwardly turned his head, attempting to appear as if he were solely focused on the arena.

"Cough, cough." Zhao Rucheng cleared his throat twice, reached out, and lifted Jiang An'an from Linghe's shoulders, placing her on his own. "An'an, your Brother Linghe is tired, sit on my shoulders for a while."

He mused that this old man, being so aged, surely wouldn't resort to assaulting him while he was holding a child.

Jiang An'an, now quite familiar with Zhao Rucheng, didn't care whose shoulders she was on, and happily chatted with Qingzhi.

"My brother just won, he's amazing!"

......

Yang Xingyong was finally carried away.

The other two battles had concluded long before. The other cultivator from Three Mountains City had defeated his opponent from Wangjiang City with overwhelming force, and Lin Zhenglie from Wangjiang City had effortlessly vanquished another first-year student from Maple Forest City.

But the attention of the audience was clearly captivated by the battle between Jiang Wang and Yang Xingyong, owing to the sheer intensity of their fist-to-flesh confrontation.

"Merely the pecking of weaklings. Maple Forest City is truly, even the common folk are so lacking in vision," Lin Zhenglie sneered at the other victor, likely seeking some form of camaraderie.

However, the victor from Three Mountains City was clearly unimpressed.

He responded coldly, "Please respect your opponent."

In his view, Lin Zhenglie's words were not only disrespectful to Jiang Wang but also to Yang Xingyong, a cultivator from Three Mountains City.

Lin Zhenglie was met with a cold shoulder, and his heart grew even more displeased. "Heh, barbarian."

The eyes of the Three Mountains City cultivator immediately seemed to blaze with fire, but he said no more.

The first round was complete, with one victor remaining from each of the three cities, resulting in a stalemate. The next stage was the round-robin phase, with the order determined by drawing lots. Luck would play a significant role in this round.

The referee from the County Academy was responsible for drawing the lots, a procedure that undoubtedly ensured the utmost fairness.

He drew a slip from the tube, examined it, and announced, "Jiang Wang!"

Linghe and Zhao Rucheng in the audience breathed a sigh of relief. This meant that the first match would be between Lin Zhenglie and the cultivator from Three Mountains City, and then Jiang Wang would face both of them separately. It was undoubtedly a fortuitous draw.

Jiang Wang retreated to the side of the arena, leaving the central space for the two combatants about to engage.

As they passed each other, Lin Zhenglie chuckled, "You are quite lucky, you can rest for another round."

The implication was that when the second round of the round-robin commenced, Jiang Wang would be beaten so severely that he would be unable to continue, and his tone was full of contempt.

Jiang Wang smiled. "I hope your luck can also be a little better, and you can still meet me later."

His meaning was that Lin Zhenglie might not even survive the first match to face him, and would be crippled in the initial bout.

In terms of verbal sparring, he was, after all, influenced by Zhao Rucheng, and not entirely without the ability to retort.

It was just that he didn't quite understand the source of Lin Zhenglie's animosity towards him. Was it simply because the slogans that Zhao Rucheng had people chant were a bit too flamboyant?

Looking at this individual, he didn't seem like a straightforward person. A cultivator who had received a formal education from a Dao Academy, and was even sent to represent the Wangjiang City Dao Academy as an elite disciple, would he be so impatient?

Jiang Wang was actually quite interested in the answer behind this.

As for fighting, he was truly fearless.

Compared to the frivolous and irritable behavior displayed by Lin Zhenglie, the cultivator from Three Mountains City remained perpetually silent, merely observing his opponent.

For this battle, the attitude he demonstrated was undoubtedly far more appropriate.

It also revealed a stronger desire for the outcome of the confrontation.