Chapter Fifty-Six: The Simpleton Takes the Field

The two brothers sprinted all the way, reaching the Eternal Watch Hall on Snowwind Peak from Pine Ridge Peak in less than half an hour.

When Lin Xiaobao appeared in the hall, the gazes of the disciples present were openly filled with fear. Although they agreed with what Lin Xiaobao had said the previous day, many had witnessed him kill with their own eyes—splitting a man in two. Now, just looking at Lin Xiaobao sent chills down their spines.

"You must be careful today," Cen Shuyah said, having arrived even earlier than they. "According to the information I’ve received, they intend to avenge Ye Jingming."

There was no need to specify who “they” referred to. Lin Xiaobao smiled faintly, replying, "That was to be expected. But only if they have the strength to do so."

"And Wang Dashan shouldn’t compete today," Cen Shuyah added, concern in her voice.

“No way. I promised Feiyan that I’d make it into the top five,” Wang Dashan insisted, glancing around before asking, “Why isn’t Feiyan here today?”

“She has something to attend to and might be a little late. Just be careful during the match.” Although Cen Shuyah spoke to Wang Dashan, her gaze lingered meaningfully on Lin Xiaobao.

The moment the hour struck, the Grand Elder appeared in the arena, holding a crystal orb. “After yesterday’s elimination, fifteen disciples remain in the competition. Pairings will be randomly assigned using the formation crystal. As for who will be lucky enough to advance without a match, that depends on your own fortune.” With that, the Grand Elder cast a spell upon the crystal. The fifteen names within began to spin rapidly, then shot out one by one.

In the end, one name remained in the crystal—Lin Xiaobao.

“This round, Lin Xiaobao advances directly to the top eight, the rest of you start your matches immediately!” the Grand Elder announced, his figure flashing as he returned to the stands.

Though he had a bye, Lin Xiaobao’s expression was grim. He had noticed that Wang Dashan’s opponent this round was Yu Yongming, a ninth-rank Xiantian cultivator. Judging from Ye Jingming’s strength the day before, Lin Xiaobao could guess Yu Yongming’s abilities. With Wang Dashan’s current seventh-rank Xiantian cultivation, victory would be difficult.

“Yu Yongming, eh? I’ve been itching to teach him a lesson. Xiaobao, come and watch me take him down!” With that, Wang Dashan seized the three-foot-long Coldiron Hammer from behind his back and strode onto the stage.

The Coldiron Hammer had been custom-forged for Wang Dashan by Lin Tian from a massive quantity of millennium-old coldiron. Usually, Wang Dashan seldom used it, but he must have realized that the battles ahead would only grow fiercer, so he had brought it along today.

“You’re unlucky, because you’ve befriended someone you shouldn’t have,” Yu Yongming sneered, his True Martial Sword drawn and its tip aimed straight at Wang Dashan’s nose.

“You’re unlucky too, because you’ve offended someone you shouldn’t have,” Wang Dashan mimicked Yu Yongming’s tone, though the effect was somewhat comical, drawing laughter from the watching disciples.

Even Yu Yongming struggled to keep a straight face. While Wang Dashan could be simple-minded, he wasn’t without cunning; seizing the moment, he shouted, stomped his feet, and lunged forward. When the gap between them was less than ten feet, he suddenly brought the Coldiron Hammer down hard toward Yu Yongming’s head.

The movement was simple, without flourish—merely a perfect manifestation of raw power.

As the wind howled, disdain flickered in Yu Yongming’s eyes. He stepped back, flicked his sword tip up, and struck at the weakest part of the hammer’s handle.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Yu Yongming’s sword tapped the same spot on the hammer’s handle several times in quick succession, sparks flying. Wang Dashan immediately felt his weapon nearly fly from his grasp. He stomped the ground, drew power from the earth, and forced the hammer down in a final, mighty blow.

The contempt in Yu Yongming’s eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by gravitas. He had confidence in his own strength; had it been any other seventh-rank Xiantian, their weapon would have been sent flying by his attacks. Yet this man not only kept his grip but completed his strike, powered by brute force. Yu Yongming realized he could no longer treat his opponent as just another seventh-rank cultivator.

Yu Yongming moved swiftly, narrowly dodging to the left of the hammer. Just as he evaded, Wang Dashan’s Coldiron Hammer defied the laws of inertia, abruptly changing from a downward strike to a sweeping blow, brushing past Yu Yongming’s body.

The wind was so fierce that Yu Yongming could feel his robe pressed tightly against his skin. A cold sweat broke out on his brow; though his cultivation surpassed his opponent’s by two full ranks, he knew all too well the consequences of being struck by that hammer.

He channeled spiritual power throughout his body, making himself lighter, and swept his True Martial Sword at the incoming hammer.

With a clang, the sword tip met the hammer, bending the blade. Simultaneously, a rebounding force numbed Yu Yongming’s arm, but he had no time to dwell on this. With a loud shout, he used the momentum to somersault twice in midair, widening the distance between himself and Wang Dashan.

Still cautious, he swung his sword repeatedly, sending out a flurry of sword streaks to deter Wang Dashan from pursuing.

The collision had left Wang Dashan’s arms numb as well. He had to admit, this opponent was the strongest he’d ever faced in terms of sheer force. Yet instead of fear, excitement blazed in Wang Dashan’s eyes. With a roar, he charged forward again.

Faced with Yu Yongming’s sword light, he simply swung his Coldiron Hammer with brute strength, smashing the attacks apart. There was no skill, only a contest of raw might.

Having lost the initiative, Yu Yongming was forced onto the defensive, constantly dodging Wang Dashan’s assaults. This style of combat was nothing like what Yu Yongming had imagined. His opponent seemed to have inexhaustible strength, and after a stick of incense’s time, Yu Yongming wisely chose to avoid direct clashes whenever possible.

Only when there was truly no way to dodge did he use his longsword to parry the hammer; otherwise, he evaded whenever he could.

This simple, wild fighting style thrilled the watching disciples, but Lin Xiaobao, standing nearby, frowned deeply.

Wang Dashan might be enjoying himself now, but he was expending much more energy than Yu Yongming. Once exhausted, he would stand no chance against any counterattack.

Sadly, Wang Dashan seemed intoxicated by the sheer joy of unleashing his strength, without a thought for the consequences.

“Your friend’s situation doesn’t look promising,” Cen Shuyah observed as well. Though Yu Yongming’s victory wouldn’t be absolute, at this rate, Wang Dashan’s defeat was inevitable.

As Lin Xiaobao turned his head, he saw that Nie Feiyan had arrived and was now standing beside Cen Shuyah. He glared at her, saying, “If anything happens to Dashan, I won’t forgive you!”

Startled by the threat—and remembering Lin Xiaobao’s ruthlessness from the previous day—Nie Feiyan paled, realizing he would show no mercy just because she was a woman. Still, she forced herself to retort, “What does it have to do with me? I didn’t make him go up there.”

As time passed, Wang Dashan’s movements began to slow, and Yu Yongming’s counterattacks only grew more frequent…