Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter 132: Counter-Mohism

For a moment, Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu couldn't even believe his eyes. Two months ago, when the Sanyuan Temple plan had just unfolded, Chen Chang'an was still a criminal headed for the executioner's block—a blind son-in-law who couldn't see a thing. Yet now, he had stepped into the martial path and leaped straight to the third rank.

This meant that in a mere sixty days or so, he had traversed a long and arduous road that would take a genius monster half a year, and an ordinary person several years.

The once unremarkable rookie had now evolved into the key obstacle to the failure of his grand ambitions. Moreover, judging by the surging qi and vigor revolving around Chen Chang'an's body, the Primordial Art he had awakened was undoubtedly of a high grade.

"Absurd..."

Bai Jinghu spat out a curse and unleashed his own burst of vital energy. However, it lacked the terrifying, oppressive might of his previous Eighth-Rank Post-Mystic level, peaking at best around the Fifth-Rank Bone Forging. Yet, he possessed absolute confidence: a chasm of four whole ranks lay between Art Initiation and Bone Forging, a gap that could not be erased simply by awakening a Primordial Art.

"Chen Chang'an!"

Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu roared into midair, his voice echoing loudly. "You truly are a once-in-a-century martial arts prodigy, and quite resilient to boot, surviving even this. But so what if you've leaped to the third rank? So what if you've awakened a Primordial Art? Within my Spirit Prison, you are still going to die!"

*Boom!*

A massive wave of vital energy exploded with Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu at its center, surging outward for several thousand meters and kicking up rolling waves of snow several zhang high. Propelled by this formidable power, he shot straight up into the air, reaching the same altitude as Chen Chang'an.

"Go to hell!"

Bellowing fiercely, Bai Jinghu swept his sleeves. Countless ice shards and snowflakes shattered on the ground rose straight into the clouds, forming ten thousand cold arrows before him.

As Bai Jinghu thrust forward with all his might, the arrows blotted out the sky, surging forward majestically. Dragging behind them tails of steam formed from rapid friction and dissolution in the air, they hurtled toward Chen Chang'an, who was standing a few hundred meters away.

"Is that... all?"

Holding his weapon Caiming, Chen Chang'an remained suspended in the air without the slightest intention of dodging or parrying. He allowed the thousands of ice arrows to close in infinitely until they finally pierced into his body with a flurry of *crunching* sounds, penetrating his internal organs as blood splattered everywhere.

Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu hooked the corner of his mouth into a sneer. "Hmph, indeed, that is all. What use is stepping into the Third-Rank Art Initiation? This Prince can still..."

His proud and arrogant voice abruptly cut off. The smile frozen on Bai Jinghu's face gradually stiffened, finally shattering into a heavy, somber expression. For he sensed that as the ice arrows continuously pierced into Chen Chang'an's body, the opponent's vital signs, qi vortex, and vital essence showed no signs of injury, depletion, or exhaustion—instead, they were continuously growing stronger.

"How... could this be? Could his Primordial Art be—?" Prince Jing'an's expression suddenly turned stern.

At the same time, Chen Chang'an spread his arms, allowing his body to receive Bai Jinghu's attacks to the maximum extent possible, and roared at the top of his lungs: "Today, I'll let you witness the Sixth Primordial Art: Reverse Momentum!"

*Swish! Swish!*
*Splat!*
*Splat, splat!*

The ice arrows continued to pierce into his body, yet Chen Chang'an wore a rather comfortable and appreciative expression. It was clearly visible that his mental state, physical stamina, and blood-qi were continuously rising and surging.

This was the specific function of the Sixth Primordial Art: Reverse Momentum. It could reverse the objective effects inflicted upon the caster of the Primordial Art.

To put it in more numerical terms, if Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu's attack would normally deplete fifty percent of his health bar, the transformation through the Sixth Primordial Art: Reverse Momentum would instead add fifty percent to Chen Chang'an's health bar. Truly, it was a heaven-defying ability.

Of course, there was a limit—or rather, a bug. If the degree of damage received far exceeded the ultimate limit one could bear, such as being instantly obliterated at one hundred percent health, the conversion ability of Reverse Momentum would fail.

*Splat!*
*Splat, splat!*

For a full two minutes or so, the ice prisms emitted by Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu completely pierced through his body, providing reverse nourishment.

Bai Jinghu cursed aloud: "Damn it all! How could it be Reverse Momentum?!"

The direct effect caused by this type of Primordial Art was not fatal, but its indirect impact was truly a headache. After all, every attack launched would provide nourishment to the opponent, making them stronger the more they fought...

Chen Chang'an looked at Prince Jing'an a hundred meters away, who was sporting an expression as if he had just eaten shit, lifted Caiming, and said with a wicked smile, "Since Your Highness doesn't dare to attack anymore, please forgive my offense!"

With that, he transformed into a blurry afterimage and dashed out rapidly, tearing through the air with a series of whistling sounds. He abruptly stopped midway between them, scratched his head, and said, "Apologies, Your Highness, but I feel the damage you just gave me wasn't quite enough!"

As he spoke, he raised the short blade Caiming and mercilessly stabbed it into his own chest repeatedly, *stab, stab, stab*. Anyone unaware would have thought he was committing self-harm. In the blink of an eye, numerous intersecting holes appeared, blood flowing in steady streams. Yet, far from looking injured, he appeared even more excited than someone injected with a stimulant, laughing heartily and roaring toward the heavens as his blood-qi and spirit surged in a multiplicative burst.

Bai Jinghu: "..."

"Alright!"

Until he pulled the thirteenth blade out from his chest, Chen Chang'an nodded with satisfaction. "Utterly perfect!"

*Whoosh!*

Then, the whistling sound of tearing air rang out once more as he rapidly closed in on Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu.

With a ferocious expression and his entire body's vital aura surging, Bai Jinghu rushed forward as well. The two transformed into two dazzling lines of light, intersecting at a point two-thirds of the distance between them.

Chen Chang'an brought his blade down in a slash. Bai Jinghu sidestepped to dodge, then threw a heavy, vicious punch right into Chen Chang'an's chest. Although his subconscious mind knew that the opponent currently possessed the blessing of the Sixth Primordial Art: Reverse Momentum, where attacks were equivalent to purification and recovery, the momentum of a person in a combat state was simply like this—there was no help for it.

Damage was equivalent to nourishment, and nourishment was equivalent to damage. He couldn't exactly pull him into his arms and comfort him, could he? They were in the middle of a brawl, not playing around.

True to form, Chen Chang'an puffed out his chest as comfortably as if he had just been healed a few times by Cai Yan, and said, "Come on, Your Highness, hit right here!"

Bai Jinghu: "..."

"Ah!"

He let out an indignant roar—filled with despair, a mental breakdown, anger, and utter speechlessness.

...
...
...

At the entrance of Prince Jing'an's Manor, Cao Wu sighed incessantly, repeatedly praying toward the phantom manifestation of her 15th Primordial Art, World-Pitying, and chanting over and over: "Pitying the sufferings of the world, may it be pitied, may it be blessed, may it be as wished!"

"Pitying the sufferings of the world, may it be pitied, may it be blessed, may it be as wished!"

Cheng Mulong rested his chin in his hand and complained, "Sigh... this wish is not going as wished at all."

Ruan Jingchu and Ye Lin exchanged worried glances, speechless. Silence spoke louder than words. After a long while, Ruan Jingchu sighed, "If my realm were a bit higher, perhaps I could have used the 55th Primordial Art, Origin-Return, to remedy the situation. Sigh!"

Ye Lin comforted her, saying, "The protagonist of just now was a phantom manifestation derived from the Eighth-Rank Post-Mystic realm. Even if you activated Origin-Return, it would be impossible to pull things back to their original state. Besides... none of us knew that Prince Jing'an was going to unleash a Spirit Prison on Chen Chang'an!"

"Sigh!"

Sighs echoed from time to time among the crowd. Only Song Jiu curved the corner of his mouth into a slight smile, wishing nothing more than for Chen Chang'an to die in Prince Jing'an's Spirit Prison and never return. He deeply despised this person who had overshadowed him everywhere ever since the examinations began.

Even though returning alive from Ganquan Village last time was likely largely thanks to Chen Chang'an, it didn't affect his inner decision in the slightest.

Surrounded by numerous elite Black-Clothed Guards, Bai Wan occasionally let his gaze wander between his cousin Prince Jing'an Bai Jinghu and Chen Chang'an, deep in thought. An emperor's mind was always difficult to guess.

As the captain of the Qinghua Eunuch Guards and himself a Seventh-Rank Life-and-Death realm expert, Ying Hong looked thoughtful, but his mood did not seem particularly gloomy, forming a stark contrast with the people around him.

He waved his hand to dismiss the Judge phantom manifestation that had been standing beside the clock tower. Yawning, he walked lazily over to Cao Wu and Cheng Mulong and said, "Rest assured, the person who walks out alive will definitely be Chen Chang'an!"

Cheng Mulong did not answer him, his thick brows still tightly furrowed!

Cao Wu responded with a faint smile, as if to say thank you for the comforting, well-intentioned lie.

"Sigh, you guys..."

Ying Hong shot them a look of disdain and said, "Given the actual gap between Chen Chang'an and Prince Jing'an, the outcome should have been decided within three moves. But look at now—so much time has passed, and the cage of the Spirit Prison still hasn't dissipated. That means there are variables at play."

"That's right!"

Cao Wu and Cheng Mulong's eyes lit up instantly.

Right at that moment, Chen Chang'an's body, which had been frozen in a stiff state, began to tremble as if struck by lightning. After lasting for some thirty-odd seconds, his eyes snapped open. Immediately following that, popping sounds of exploding qi erupted continuously. Numerous holes and wounds appeared across his chest—some were shallow grazes scraping off flesh, while others went deep into the bone marrow, with blood splashing everywhere.

All the injuries suffered within the Spirit Prison cage manifested concretely.

"Holy shit!"

With his soul and consciousness returning to his body, Chen Chang'an commanded his handsome mouth to spit out a string of curses before collapsing heavily onto the ground.

"Ah, Chen Chang'an..."

Cao Wu and Cheng Mulong rushed forward first, closely followed by Ye Lin, Ruan Jingchu, three Black-Clothed Guards of the Xuan rank, and others who were concerned and worried. With emotional expressions, they glanced at Chen Chang'an, whose chest was heaving as he breathed, and then turned their gazes toward the entrance of Prince Jing'an's Manor. Seeing Bai Jinghu still standing rigidly with a blank, expressionless, and vacant stare, everyone knew that Chen Chang'an had won!

To defeat a pseudo-eighth-rank Post-Mystic expert at the second-rank Soul-Cultivation realm after having stepped onto the martial path for only two months—it was simply a miracle.

Had they not witnessed it with their own eyes, probably no one would have believed it.

"Haha, I knew for sure the one who would come back alive would be Chen Chang'an!"

Cheng Mulong was overjoyed and hurriedly pressed both hands onto Chen Chang'an's shoulders, channeling a steady stream of vital energy into his body to heal his injuries, pushing his output to the maximum.

"What the heck?"

After a moment, Cheng Mulong looked bewildered. "Why is it that the more I try to heal him, the more severe his injuries seem to get? How very strange."

"What use are you? Let me!"

Showing her disdain, Cao Wu shoved Cheng Mulong aside and pressed both hands onto Chen Chang'an's shoulders in the same manner to channel vital energy. Compared to the former's vigorous and robust style, hers leaned toward gentleness and softness.

*Crack! Crack, crack!* Before the channeled vital energy could even reach the dantian, Chen Chang'an began to cough violently, displaying the classic symptoms of an approaching demise.

"Hah, you're even more useless!"

Never missing an opportunity to put down Cao Wu, Cheng Mulong flicked his sleeve, puffed out his chest, walked back over, and squatted down. Pulling out a blue-and-white porcelain bottle from his bosom with a proud air, he said, "Better let my ancestral divine medicine save him!"

Saying this, he shook two pills out of the bottle, held them between his middle and index fingers, and offered them toward Chen Chang'an's mouth.

Just as they were about to touch his lips, a lingering, on-the-verge-of-death Chen Chang'an used his last bit of strength to raise a hand and stop him, saying weakly, "Don't do it, brother. You're trying to kill me!"

Cheng Mulong: "..."