Chapter Thirty-Five: The Flow of Birds

The moment Zhao Ziyang unleashed his full source power, Ye Ran knew there was no choice left but to fight for his life. Zhao Ziyang, too, had no way out. He was the great hope of the Zhao family, and a rising star in the Sixth Divine Hall—his status far surpassed Ye Ran’s. If he lost here, he would find it hard to ever lift his head again.

Ye Ran bowed his head, gripping a blood-soaked strip of cloth between his teeth as he tied it around his wrist. With his free hand, he turned his palm up in a gesture of invitation and said quietly, “Please, make your move.”

In the next instant, the wind rose. A light breeze was swept into the searing heat as Ye Ran’s body flickered and vanished from where he stood. Suddenly, a surge of spiritual pressure crashed behind Zhao Ziyang. He frowned. This was not merely the force of energy, but the momentum honed through countless brushes with death—a blood-soaked aura. He had met silver-ranked champions who had trained in the Land of Repose, and only those warriors could forge such presence. Yet Ye Ran’s aura carried the unyielding resolve of one with nothing to lose. Even though Zhao Ziyang’s own energy was five levels higher, he felt tremendous pressure.

A short, heavy fist came crashing down. Zhao Ziyang blocked with his elbow. His speed was no match for Ye Ran’s, but his defensive stillness was unshakable. Yet as Ye Ran’s fist pressed against his elbow, something astonishing happened.

The flames enveloping him roared as a powerful current slammed into him, sending both his hair and the fire streaming backward.

Ye Ran, whose energy was only at level two, unleashed a force no less than a level six. In a single blow, it was as if two tempests collided atop the dueling stage. The spectators below felt the shockwave of their clashing energies.

“What’s going on? How did Ye Ran’s energy suddenly surge so much?”

“Yes, it seems he’s able to stand toe-to-toe with Zhao Ziyang now…”

The crowd buzzed with astonishment and excitement at Ye Ran’s sudden transformation. It was the first time they had seen a commoner facing a temple elite head-on. Even Yamo could not help but feel his heart race.

“What is this? This energy…”

Even with their keen eyes, Wang Li and Lin Yuan could not discern how Ye Ran had accomplished it. Lu Yanhhe, however, rose slowly, excitement glinting in his gaze.

“It’s the Avian Flow body technique,” he said.

“Oh, so it is… I haven’t seen anyone use a technique at this level in ages,” Xises adjusted his rimless glasses. “The principle behind a bird’s flight lies in the wings and the air currents, the entire body’s arc merging with the flow. Birds are far more attuned to and skilled at manipulating air currents than humans. That’s why the Avian Flow is so named. Watch his movements—each punch and palm strike is completely different from his earlier, sharp, linear attacks. Now his movements are supple and expansive—he’s guiding the currents,” Lu Yanhhe explained.

Xises nodded, then shook his head. “But the strain the Avian Flow places on the body is immense. Can he withstand it?”

The duel platform was now engulfed by howling wind. Zhao Ziyang felt the pressure mounting. Every blow from Ye Ran, empowered by the Avian Flow, was crushing. At first, he lowered his center of gravity, taking a purely defensive stance, waiting for the storm to pass before counterattacking. But soon he realized Ye Ran had no intention of relenting, and under Ye Ran’s relentless assault, his defense quickly unraveled—he was struck several times.

With a roar, Zhao Ziyang abandoned defense. As Ye Ran lunged in, he stepped forward, unleashing a barrage of punches, channeling his entire force toward Ye Ran as flames exploded before him.

Ye Ran darted aside, slipping past the flames, pivoted, and drove a foot into Zhao Ziyang’s chest. But Zhao Ziyang was equally unyielding—he twisted his body, sprinted forward, and channeled his energy to his chest for a direct clash.

The energies collided again. Ye Ran braced himself, flipped backward off Zhao Ziyang’s body.

When Zhao Ziyang was on defense, Ye Ran could fully unleash the Avian Flow. But if he tried to endure a head-on collision using the same technique, his body might not survive.

In truth, it was already hard to endure.

Blood seeped from every inch of his body, staining his snow-white shirt—his hands, arms, legs…

Had it only been the Avian Flow, he might not have suffered so, but the wounds inflicted earlier by the Godhunter clan had made things worse.

The crowd’s mouths fell open, eyes wide, unable to tear their gaze away.

Zhao Ziyang, poised to pursue his advantage, faltered.

Was he wounded?

Or was this the terrible cost of channeling air with that body technique?

Either way, he no longer wished to continue.

“You are strong, but you’ve reached your limit. Even if you stop here, you’ll have earned everyone’s respect.”

In just this brief exchange, Zhao Ziyang had developed genuine admiration for Ye Ran.

Ye Ran kept his arm extended, voice calm. “The one who falls is the one at his limit.”

Zhao Ziyang’s brows knit as he said gravely, “This is just a martial examination. Is it worth risking your life? A true warrior must have the courage to die, but to die for a competition like this seems foolish to me.”

Ye Ran chuckled softly. “Yes, for you, even if you lose, it means little. There are plenty of academies in Torrent City, and more gods beyond its walls. But if you stood in my place, you’d know—every desperate struggle isn’t because it’s worth it, not because I don’t value my own life, but because… there is no other choice.”

The tempests of life never arrive as expected, and fate’s choices are seldom kind. Those above will never understand what it means for someone at the very bottom to struggle just to survive.

Zhao Ziyang could not comprehend why the man before him, standing amid the flames like iron, would stake everything on a mere martial contest.

Blood dripped into the fire, evaporating with a persistent hiss that echoed around Ye Ran. He was losing too much blood—his vision began to blur, and for some reason, Fu Ruiya’s delicate face floated through his mind.

He smiled softly, watching her face fade away.

That purple aura seemed to well up from within him again, power surging forth—but before it could fully emerge, Ye Ran’s cold voice cut it off: “Stand down. I don’t need your strength.”

The commanding tone made the consciousness within him pause. The power neither receded nor intensified, but simply remained.

Ye Ran stepped forward, his foot tracing an arc on the ground. Looking at Zhao Ziyang, he said, “Betting life and death on victory here is unfair to you. A duel is a duel—let it be fought with honor, with no regrets in defeat or victory.

“I have one last move. If you still stand after this, the match is yours.”