The morning sun rose over the Lin Clan’s main estate, casting a cold, brilliant light across the central martial arena.
Hundreds of disciples had gathered around the massive stone stage.
The air was thick with the hum of their voices.
The monthly outer arena trials were ruthless; those who failed would have their cultivation resources halved, while those who excelled could catch the eye of the inner sect elders sitting on the elevated pavilion.
Ye Chen stood in the crowd.
A basic iron sword hung from his waist.
He had spent the entire night in the bamboo grove, circulating his Qi backward through his meridians to master the first stance of the Shadow-Sunder Slash.
His body was fatigued, but his eyes were sharp—filled with a terrifyingly calm clarity.
“Next match!” the referee elder shouted from the center of the ring, his voice amplified by spiritual energy.
“Lin Hu versus Ye Chen!”
The crowd instantly fell silent.
A wave of hushed whispers and mocking chuckles followed.
“Ye Chen? The broken-root trash is actually participating?”
“Lin Hu is at the Second Layer of Qi Condensation. He’s going to break that boy into pieces.”
Lin Hu leaped onto the stone stage with a heavy thud.
His broad-shouldered frame radiated a confident, aggressive aura.
He drew his heavy steel broadsword, resting it casually over his shoulder as he looked down at Ye Chen with a predatory grin.
“Come up, trash! Let’s see if your tongue is as sharp as your fear!” Lin Hu barked.
Ye Chen didn’t reply.
He walked up the wooden steps with a measured, unhurried stride, stepping onto the cracked stone of the arena.
He stood twenty paces away, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his basic iron sword.
“Remember the rules,” the referee elder muttered, casting a brief, pitying glance at Ye Chen.
“No killing. No permanent crippling. Begin!”
“Die, waste!” Lin Hu roared.
Yellowish Qi flared around his legs as he channeled his Earth-Slam Step, lunging forward with incredible speed for a man of his size.
The heavy broadsword cut through the air, aimed directly at Ye Chen’s shoulder with enough force to shatter wood.
To the audience, Lin Hu’s strike was a terrifying blur.
But to Ye Chen, it was filled with openings.
Ye Chen didn’t draw his sword immediately.
He stood perfectly still until the broadsword was bare inches away from his neck.
The crowd gasped.
Some closed their eyes, expecting a bloodbath.
At the absolute last millisecond, Ye Chen’s body shifted.
It wasn’t a standard dodge; he utilized a minor footwork technique from his past life, sliding past the blade like a phantom slipping through a shadow.
The heavy broadsword hit nothing but empty air, its immense momentum forcing Lin Hu to stumble forward.
“What?!” Lin Hu gasped, his eyes widening in shock as his strike missed.
Before Lin Hu could recover his balance, Ye Chen’s right hand finally moved.
Clang.
The sound of his iron sword leaving the scabbard was faint, almost completely muted.
Ye Chen circulated the silver Qi within his veins backward, creating a brief, localized vacuum around his blade.
The Shadow-Sunder Slash lived up to its name; there was no wind, no warning, and no reflection of light.
To the audience, Ye Chen’s arm merely blurred for a fraction of a second.
Thwack.
The flat side of Ye Chen’s iron blade struck Lin Hu squarely across his chest.
A sickening crack echoed across the arena as Lin Hu’s ribs buckled under the impact.
Lin Hu let out an agonizing howl.
His knee twisted at a sickening angle, his heavy frame crashing face-first into the stone floor.
His broadsword clattered out of his hand, rolling away into the dirt.
Ye Chen stood over him.
His iron sword was already resting calmly back in its scabbard, as if he had never drawn it at all.
His expression remained entirely indifferent, his breathing perfectly steady.
“Get up,” Ye Chen said softly.
His voice carried an icy weight that chilled the marrow of everyone listening.
“You said you were going to break both of my arms. Stand up and try.”
Lin Hu clutched his shattered knee, groaning in agony.
Tears of pain and humiliation streamed down his face.
He couldn’t even stand, let alone fight.
The entire arena fell into a deathly, suffocating silence.
The outer disciples stared at Ye Chen as if he were a monster spawned from the abyss.
The broken-root waste had just defeated a Second Layer Qi Condensation enforcer in a single, unseen move.
On the high pavilion, one of the inner sect elders slowly stood up.
His sharp eyes locked onto Ye Chen with intense curiosity and suspicion.
The referee elder swallowed hard, clearing his throat before shouting, “W-Winner… Ye Chen!”
Ye Chen turned on his heel and walked off the stage.
He ignored the stunned stares of the crowd.
He knew this victory would draw the attention of the higher-ups, but that was exactly what he wanted.
To get the high-grade resources he needed, he had to force the Lin Clan to recognize his worth—or tear them apart trying.