Chapter 88: The Challenge with Lingyin City’s representatives (Part-3)

Despite the grumbling, the crowd still raised their voices in support. This was still Fengyue’s arena. Pride demanded they cheer.

Meanwhile, Li Wujie had already stood up, shoulders squared.

He was about to leap when a hand settled lightly but firmly on his shoulder.

He turned to see Ryan, who gave him a small, almost gentle smile.

“Brother Wei?” Li Wujie blinked.

Ryan leaned in, voice so low only Li Wujie could hear it. “Don’t clash head-on. Don’t try to meet force with force.”

He paused.

“Move. Keep moving. Lure him. Tire him. Make him chase.”

Li Wujie stared for half a breath.

Then he nodded once—sharp, decisive without asking any question.

“Understood.”

With a powerful kick against the ground, Li Wujie vaulted onto the ring. He landed lightly, knees bending to absorb the impact, then straightened and faced his opponent.

Fang Tian watched him approach with the same bored sneer.

“You just finished a fight,” Li Wujie said, tone level and serious. “Do you need a moment to rest?”

Fang Tian barked a short, mocking laugh. “Rest? For a little kid from Fengyue? How old are you? 13? 14?”

He shook his head like he’d heard the funniest joke of the day.

“That Yuan Qiong earlier was already pathetic. And you…” His eyes slid up and down Li Wujie’s frame. “You look even weaker and more inexperienced. Don’t cry when you go flying in one hit.”

Li Wujie’s expression didn’t change.

He simply exhaled once through his nose. “Then stop talking,” he said coldly. “If you’re so sure, come prove it.”

Fang Tian grinned wider—teeth flashing. “Gladly, kid.”

He exploded forward.

Same movement as before.

Same casual, straight-line charge.

Same lazy right fist already rising for the simple, devastating punch.

Only this time…

Li Wujie didn’t meet him head-on.

The instant Fang Tian charged, Li Wujie slid sideways—sharp, sudden, like a fish darting through reeds. His body flickered low and to the right, aiming for Fang Tian’s exposed flank.

Fang Tian’s eyes narrowed as he caught that.

A tiny flicker of irritation crossed his face.

However, he didn’t slow down. Fang Tian kept charging.

He didn’t even glance sideways at the figure now flanking him. His eyes stayed locked on the empty patch of ring directly ahead, as though Li Wujie had never moved at all.

The entire arena seemed to hold its breath at the sheer strangeness of it.

Under normal circumstances, someone with Fang Tian’s explosive speed and battle sense should have pivoted instantly—shifted weight, adjusted trajectory, turned the charge into a sweeping arc to meet the threat. But he didn’t.

He simply… continued forward instead.

A runaway horse with no reins.

Li Wujie’s eyes suddenly sharpened. In that split second, everything clicked.

“So that’s what Brother Wei meant…”

The corners of his mouth lifted—just a little.

He planted his left foot hard, twisted from the waist like a drawn bow, muscles coiling and releasing in perfect sequence.

“Shipo Fist!”

The punch came out low and vicious, carrying the full weight of his body and the accumulated fury of the entire Fengyue crowd behind it.

It wasn’t the Li Clan’s most profound or elegant technique.

Shipo Fist was straightforward—brutal, direct, meant to shatter defenses and break bones. But Li Wujie had swallowed dozens of attribute pills like candy and was quietly switching to a higher-grade cultivation method. The raw power behind this one strike was far beyond what any ordinary nine-star Elite should possess.

Normally, against someone like Fang Tian, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Normally, the punch would have hit nothing but air.

But today was not normal.

Fang Tian’s eyes widened.

For the first time since stepping onto the ring, a real alarm flashed across his face—sharp, unmistakable panic.

He saw the fist coming.

He understood exactly where it would land.

And yet…

His body refused to obey.

Legs locked in forward momentum. Torso is unable to twist. The strange, surging energy coursing through his meridians had turned into chains, forcing him to keep rushing straight ahead like a mindless battering ram.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t turn.

He couldn’t even lean.

“BOOM——!”

The impact sounded like a wooden beam cracking under an axe.

Li Wujie’s fist smashed squarely into Fang Tian’s exposed right flank—ribs, kidney, liver—all in one devastating line.

Fang Tian’s tall, muscular frame was lifted clean off the ground.

He flew sideways, not backward this time, but in a graceless, tumbling arc. His arms flailed uselessly. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a fine mist before he even hit the stone.

He struck the ring hard, shoulder first, then skidded nearly ten meters, leaving a long smear of dust and a few crimson drops in his wake. When he finally stopped, he was on his side, curled slightly, one hand clutching his ribs, face pale and twisted in pain.

The arena went deathly quiet for one long heartbeat.

Then—

“What… the hell was that?”

“Did you see his face? He looked scared!”

“He didn’t even try to dodge. Not even a little!”

“This feels… familiar.”

“Yeah! It’s exactly like how Li Wei kept sending people flying before. They all just… froze up!”

“That guy looked like he was acting! Why didn’t he move?!”

“Who cares why! Li Wujie actually hit him! Hit him clean!”

“Hit him again! Smash that arrogant bastard!”

“Beat him! Beat him until he cries for his mother!”

The stands erupted once more—this time with savage, almost hysterical joy.

No one truly understood the mechanics of what just happened.

No one needed to.

The important thing was that the smug outsider from Lingyin City—the one who had mocked them, humiliated Yuan Qiong with one punch, and sneered at the entire city—was now lying on the ground, bleeding from the mouth, clutching his side like a wounded animal.

And it felt good.

Li Wujie exhaled slowly, fist still extended, feeling the pleasant ache in his knuckles and the rush of qi still singing in his veins.

So damn satisfying.

He glanced toward the high platform.

Ryan was watching with the faintest trace of a smile—calm, approving.

On the elder’s seat, Wang Zongyao leaned back slightly, fingers steepled under his chin. He gave a slow nod. Understanding had already dawned in his eyes.

It wasn’t carelessness.

It wasn’t arrogance either.

It was the fatal flaw hidden inside Fang Tian’s seemingly invincible charging style.

That bizarre amplification technique he relied on—it could only move in a straight line.

Once committed, no turns can be made.

No adjustments can be made.

And certainly, no retreat is possible.

It was like a spear thrust forward at full power… with no way to pull it back.

Wang Zongyao’s gaze drifted back to the ring.

Li Wujie was already moving again—light on his feet, circling wide, refusing to give Fang Tian a straight line to aim at.

Fang Tian coughed once, spat blood onto the stone, and slowly pushed himself up to one knee.

His face was no longer mocking.

It was dark.

Very dark.

“Your disciple isn’t bad,” Tang Wuying said with a relaxed smile as he watched Li Wujie land that punch, his tone calm and unhurried. “But if he wants to defeat Fang Tian, his strength is still lacking by quite a bit.”

He showed no anger at all over Fang Tian being struck.

Instead, he looked as though he were holding a winning hand, smiling lightly, not the least bit nervous. From beginning to end, Tang Wuying’s expression suggested absolute confidence in Fang Tian.

“Is that so?” Wang Zongyao replied evenly, without conceding the point. “Then I’ll wait and see just how strong this candidate of yours really is.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep