At the referee's signal, Zhang Luowei moved, charging straight toward Shi Feng.
Unlike an ordinary person who would rush forward in a straight line, Zhang Luowei did nothing of the sort. A direct attack was far too predictable. Instead, he darted left and surged right, his footwork shifting and flickering like an ape, swift as a gale. His form was impossible to pin down as he closed the distance to Shi Feng with breathtaking speed.
An ordinary person wouldn't even know how to respond before that elusive footwork brought him into striking range.
The Arhat Fist was a style that emphasized footwork above all, and its strikes were fast, precise, and ruthless — savagely powerful. If you failed to block in time and took a blow to the chest, the fight was over.
For a modern man with a professional fighter's physique, the force behind each blow would be at least two hundred jin. A direct hit to the chest was no different from being struck with an iron hammer. The human body was no block of iron, and even iron would be beaten into scrap after dozens of hammer blows, let alone flesh and bone. With Zhang Luowei's constitution, his striking force was surely well above that threshold. A single clean hit could shatter most of the ribs, and being sent flying a meter or two would be entirely expected.
But Shi Feng was no ordinary person. Instead of retreating, he advanced, his feet flowing into the Wandering Dragon Steps. It was as if there were no friction between him and the ground at all — he slid forward toward Zhang Luowei in a single fluid motion. Zhang Luowei was caught completely off guard. He had never imagined that Shi Feng would possess such agile and versatile closing footwork. There was no way to cut inside and strike his chest.
Shi Feng had spent ten years battling in the Divine Realm. His combat experience far exceeded anything an ordinary person could imagine. He had faced martial arts masters in abundance, and even more fearsome high-level bosses beyond their level. Compared to Shi Feng, Zhang Luowei didn't even amount to one one-thousandth. Although Shi Feng's physical constitution couldn't match Zhang Luowei's and he couldn't trade blows head-on, Shi Feng was far more agile, his reflexes and awareness far sharper. In battles against bosses, the slightest mistake could mean instant death. More often than not, judgment calls were no longer made by the eyes — they came from the body's own instinctive reactions.
This kind of instinctive response existed in a completely unconscious state. To reach this level required an enormous amount of combat, an existence perpetually balanced on the razor's edge between life and death. Even professional fighters in the real world conditions like this, because when you truly faced a life-or-death moment, the most likely outcome was simply dying — you wouldn't survive long enough for the next fight.
The Divine Realm, however, made it possible. Countless battles, and even death was no permanent end. This was what had captivated so many professional fighters about the game.
The threshold between life and death was the moment when potential exploded most violently. As long as you survived, the insight gained from combat would elevate your strength by a significant margin.
Why did so many masters train on the edge of cliff?
It was to experience that feeling of hanging by a thread — using the specter of death to unlock their potential. But this was extraordinarily dangerous. Generally, only true masters dared attempt it. If an ordinary person tried, it would be a guaranteed death sentence.
In the Divine Realm's battles, however, even death meant you could simply resurrect.
The saying "a hundred-battle master" meant that after a hundred fights, even an ordinary person would become a combat expert. For someone like Shi Feng, whose battles were too numerous to count, even a pig would have become a spirit. And Shi Feng had studied numerous martial arts to boot — he was a peak Sword King, only a single step away from the fourth-tier Sword Emperor.
The only reason he hadn't become a Sword Emperor was no longer a matter of technique. His combat skills had long since reached perfection. Every technique came effortlessly to hand, unconstrained by rigid forms.
Zhang Luowei's footwork, though nimble, was clearly a tier below Shi Feng's. He attacked again and again, punch after punch — charges, chops, hammering strikes. His Cannon Hammer technique was especially savage; even a bull would be brought down by a single blow. Yet every strike Zhang Luowei threw grazed past Shi Feng's clothes by a hair's breadth.
After more than a dozen exchanges, Shi Feng drifted around Zhang Luowei like an elusive specter, as though he were a true dragon circling around him. No matter how Zhang Luowei moved, he could never escape Shi Feng's shadow.
The more they fought, the more alarmed Zhang Luowei became. He hadn't expected Shi Feng to be a martial arts master as well. Those Wandering Dragon Steps were truly extraordinary — advancing and retreating at will, roaming freely as though traversing the heavens. But he also knew that Shi Feng didn't dare trade blows head-on. However, a relentless barrage of punches would eventually exhaust anyone's stamina. If this continued, he would lose.
"Scram!"
Zhang Luowei hardened his heart and decided to unleash his killing move. He lunged at Shi Feng with the Tiger Pouncing on Prey technique. Shi Feng simply shifted his feet and dodged with a blur of movement. Seizing the opening, Zhang Luowei spun around, planted one foot firmly on the ground, pivoted both fists, and struck at Shi Feng's exposed side with Twin Peaks Piercing Clouds.
Both fists launched forward, the wind whistling with terrifying force. Even the spectators more than ten meters away could hear it clearly. If this move connected, death or crippling injury was guaranteed.
But Shi Feng remained unhurried. A faint smile crossed his lips. He rose onto his toes, spun his body midair, and executed the Wandering Dragon Grinding Strike. Zhang Luowei's twin-fist force was redirected entirely by Shi Feng's body rotation, slamming into empty air. In the same instant, Shi Feng used the centrifugal momentum of the spin to transform his fist into a palm, slashing like a keen blade across the carotid artery at the side of Zhang Luowei's neck.
Before Zhang Luowei could even react, he felt a chill at his throat. His breathing suddenly became labored, and his brain, starved of blood, triggered a brief paralysis in his limbs. But Zhang Luowei was no ordinary man either. Realizing he'd been hit and that his limbs were slowing down, he lunged headfirst at Shi Feng's wide-open center, going for a mutual destruction gamble. If Shi Feng wanted to attack, he would have to bear the full force of Zhang Luowei's body slam.
"Good!" Shi Feng started with surprise, then broke into a grin.
He was delighted precisely because of Zhang Luowei's savage determination — the willingness to shatter like jade rather than survive as pottery. But Shi Feng didn't back off to give Zhang Luowei a chance to recover. Instead, he extended his hand and executed the Coiling Dragon Hand, smoothly hooking around Zhang Luowei's neck and lifting upward. Every ounce of force behind Zhang Luowei's full-body charge was diverted, and combined with the spinning momentum, Zhang Luowei's body whirled through the air uncontrollably, like a spinning arrow loosed from a bow. Then Shi Feng's palm slid to Zhang Luowei's chest and pressed down with a single burst of penetrating force. Zhang Luowei crashed heavily to the ground, and the marble floor instantly shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.
There lay Zhang Luowei, flat on his back, blood trickling from his mouth. Several ribs were broken. His eyes were filled with shock, but he had no strength left to speak. His eyes rolled back, and he passed out.
This entire chain of complex movements had looked slow and deliberate, yet it had taken place in a single heartbeat.
The entire arena fell dead silent. Every mouth hung open, every eye wide with stunned disbelief.
Just moments ago, the fight had been dead even — perfectly matched.
Before anyone could process what had happened, they found Zhang Luowei sprawled on the ground, unable to move. They hadn't even seen why Zhang Luowei had gone spinning through the air, nor had they caught how Shi Feng had struck. And just like that, Zhang Luowei was defeated.
"He actually beat Zhang Luowei? Don't tell me I'm seeing things." Zhao Jianhua rubbed his eyes, certain he was hallucinating. But Zhang Luowei, lying motionless on the ground, proved otherwise. This was no dream.
A completely unremarkable person with not a shred of a master's aura had actually defeated a combat prodigy. Who would ever believe that?
"Second Uncle, how was Shi Feng's performance?" Zhao Ruoxi watched Shi Feng's victory as though it were her own, beaming proudly beside Zhao Jianhua.
"Incredible. Truly incredible. But something feels... off. I'm a martial artist myself, and I couldn't even tell what style Shi Feng used to put Zhang Luowei down." Zhao Jianhua was filled with questions. "Hall Master Chen, do you recognize what fighting technique he was using?"
(To be continued...)