"I concede!"

The words had barely fallen when Qin Yu, not even daring to glance back at Li Mengchao, turned and walked off the arena platform, his steps hurried and panicked.

Li Mengchao stared daggers at his retreating back, his hands clenched into tight fists and his chest heaving violently.

He wanted nothing more than to chase after Qin Yu and tear him to shreds, but his opponent had clearly and loudly conceded. The training ground trials had rules: no attacks were permitted after a fighter yielded.

The burning hatred and killing intent were trapped in his chest, threatening to make him explode. In the end, it could only erupt as a low, guttural roar that made the wooden planks of the platform buzz.

A dead silence fell over the spectator stands. Everyone could see just how incandescent Li Mengchao’s rage was.

Qin Yu may have lost the match, but he had used a vicious, underhanded move to utterly enrage this top-tier expert. The real trouble, it seemed, was only just beginning.

Qin Yu’s figure had just disappeared from the edge of the platform, but the dead silence on the training grounds had yet to dissipate.

All eyes were fixed on the arena.

Li Mengchao clutched the wound on his inner thigh. The vicious aura radiating from him was almost palpable. The gash, deep enough to show flesh, was still seeping blood, a constant reminder of the perilous moment just before. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

The Silver Armor Captain stood below the platform, his mouth slightly agape. He, too, was clearly stunned by Qin Yu’s venomous move.

He had presided over many training ground trials and even participated in the Jintai Prefecture examinations. He had seen ruthless techniques, but rarely had he witnessed a fighting style so utterly without scruples, aimed exclusively at vital points.

After a moment of shock, he took a deep breath and stepped onto the platform.

"Li Mengchao is the victor."

The Silver Armor Captain’s voice held a strange, almost imperceptible tone. As his gaze swept over Li Mengchao’s wound, he silently sighed in relief.

He shot a look at the soldiers beside him, signaling them to take Li Mengchao away for medical treatment. He also wanted them to check on him—it would be a huge problem if the direct heir of the Li Family was... permanently damaged. Once the arrangements were made, he turned to the entire field and announced, "Next match: Zhou Zhiqiang versus Zhou Tong! To the platform!"

The announcement shattered the silence. A low murmur of discussion rose from the spectator stands, but the topic remained fixed on the shocking scene that had just unfolded. Many people looked in the direction Qin Yu and Li Mengchao had departed, their expressions complex.

Inside the enclosure, Zhou Zhiqiang and Zhou Tong rose to their feet at almost the same time.

Zhou Zhiqiang’s face was still pale from the earlier clash with the Vajra Hand Seal, but his gaze was sharp. He straightened his robes and walked toward the arena platform.

Zhou Tong, on the other hand, rolled his shoulders. The injuries he’d sustained from his morning bout with Qin Yu made his movements a little stiff, but he had mostly recovered during the noon break. His steps were steady, each one planted firmly on the ground.

One after the other, they ascended the platform.

Zhou Zhiqiang stood on the east side, his hands loosely clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He had clearly already summoned his Inner Strength.

Zhou Tong took his position on the west side, sinking into a low horse stance. The muscles on his bronze-colored arms bulged as the aura of his hard-style technique began to spread out. It was as if he were enveloped in a suit of invisible armor.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting long shadows of the two men across the platform.

Zhou Zhiqiang gazed at Zhou Tong, his expression growing grave as he recalled his opponent’s stone-shattering defensive art.

Zhou Tong also watched Zhou Zhiqiang, knowing the man’s Heavy Fist was incomparably fierce. He didn’t dare let his guard down for a second.

At this stage of the competition, there were no weaklings left.

Even someone as powerful as Li Mengchao had nearly been castrated on the spot. Who would dare be careless now?

The Silver Armor Captain retreated to the edge of the platform. His gaze swept over the two fighters, and seeing they were both ready, he raised his arm slightly and declared in a deep voice, "Begin!"

The moment the word was spoken, Zhou Zhiqiang shot forward like an arrow from a bow. His right fist whistled through the air, aimed straight for Zhou Tong’s face.

Zhou Tong neither dodged nor retreated. He simply dipped his left shoulder slightly and took the punch head-on.

With a dull THUD, Zhou Zhiqiang felt as if his fist had struck an iron plate. The impact sent a numbing shock up his arm, yet Zhou Tong had only swayed slightly, his face showing no sign of pain.

’Such a powerful defensive technique!’

Zhou Zhiqiang was inwardly stunned, but his assault didn’t slow. He unleashed a furious storm of punches, each blow aimed at one of Zhou Tong’s vital points.

But Zhou Tong stood his ground like an iron tower. No matter how ferocious his opponent’s attacks, he simply met them with his defensive art, occasionally raising a hand to block. Every collision produced a deep, muffled boom that made the platform tremble.

The gazes of everyone on the training grounds refocused on the arena. The unease caused by Qin Yu’s underhanded move gradually subsided as everyone held their breath, watching this head-on clash.

One was an expert famed for his Heavy Fist; the other was a brute who had mastered his defensive art to its peak. This match was destined to be a collision of the most raw and direct power.

"This is getting interesting."

Zhou Tong grinned, a fierce look in his eyes. His bronze skin glistened in the sun. Pushing his defensive art to its limit, his entire body seemed to transform into a block of refined iron.

He took a step forward and threw a sweeping right hook at Zhou Zhiqiang’s ribs, carrying the force to shatter stone tablets. He was actually countering force with force.

Zhou Zhiqiang’s eyes narrowed. Instead of retreating, he advanced, using his left fist to parry the attack while charging up his right. He threw another punch, its force even more ferocious than before.

The two instantly clashed. A flurry of fists intertwined, and every impact let out a deafening thud that made the wooden planks of the platform CREAK and sent splinters raining down.

Zhou Zhiqiang’s fists were as fast as shooting stars, every blow ferocious.

Zhou Tong’s defensive art, however, was as steady as a boulder. He simply absorbed the brunt of his opponent’s attacks, and the occasional counterpunch he threw carried terrifying force.

For the first hundred or so exchanges, they traded blows back and forth, appearing to be evenly matched. Neither could gain a clear advantage.