The most insidious part of all was that this battle, once again, would take place on the Frost Ice Stage.
Even if Jiang Chen remained outwardly calm, he knew in his bones this had to be arranged deliberately. Back in the Mystic Spirit Zone, even a figure as upright and just as Lord Fang had manipulated the matches to deliberately sideline him, Jiang Chen.
Of course, Lord Fang's actions had been to protect him.
But in this current situation, to claim there was no human hand involved... Jiang Chen simply couldn't believe it.
Moreover, this manipulation wasn't meant to protect him. Quite the opposite—it was designed to suppress him.
Three consecutive challengers, all targeting him, giving him almost no time to rest, and every match set on the Frost Ice Stage.
What did this signify?
It meant the entire sequence was definitely orchestrated. The two powerful opponents before were merely appetizers, meant to wear Jiang Chen down.
This He Yan—he was the real threat.
Chapter 130: Contempt and Schemes A cold sneer surfaced in Jiang Chen's heart. He cast a meaningful, mocking glance toward Grandmaster Shuiyue's direction, the corner of his lips lifting slightly to form a sarcastic arc.
For a figure of her stature—a pillar of the sect and the one in charge of the entire Earth Spirit Region—to employ such shameless methods, it truly made Jiang Chen look down on her.
"That old woman. Quite the schemer. First, send two strong fighters to wear me down, then dispatch her prized disciple to challenge me. A war of attrition? Truly shameless."
Jiang Chen quickly saw through Grandmaster Shuiyue's plot.
In truth, it wasn't even a plot. It was a brazenly open strategy.
However, without proof, anyone could only guess and not actually accuse Grandmaster Shuiyue of anything.
Seeing her face, so stern and unapproachable, radiating an aura of sacred inviolability, Jiang Chen only found the woman indescribably hypocritical and utterly disgusting.
"You think you can take me down with this kind of trick?" The innate defiance in Jiang Chen's bones flared up. "The more you try to break me, the less I'll let you succeed. You want your precious disciple to crush me and make a name for himself? This young master will simply ensure your little abacus doesn't click."
In the previous two fights, because he was the one being challenged, Jiang Chen had deliberately held back his true strength, not employing any of his signature moves. The so-called "wear and tear" was negligible, and the fatigue he displayed was purely an act to mislead his opponents.
Sure enough, He Yan standing across the arena was absolutely convinced of this. A peculiar smile hung on his face as he swept his gaze over Jiang Chen with the rude, appraising look of a predator sizing up its prey.
It was the look of a beast pinning its quarry beneath its paws, deciding where to take the first bite.
"Who goes there? State your name. I, He Yan, do not kill nameless nobodies." He Yan let out a cold laugh and struck a grandiose pose.
He knew perfectly well who his opponent was. This whole affair had been arranged from the start.
Still, saying things like this was meant to boost his own morale while unsettling his opponent's mind. It was a tried-and-true tactic among sect disciples.
But to Jiang Chen, this little routine was about as stale as it gets.
He couldn't even be bothered to glance at He Yan. His tone was flat and indifferent: "Enough with the theatrics. Make your move. Let me see whether this so-called prized disciple has what it takes to make me use even a fraction of my real strength."
He Yan had worked hard to create an atmosphere of absolute dominance, but Jiang Chen doused him with a bucket of ice water so thoroughly that the entire mood was ruined.
"Country bumpkin — no manners at all." He Yan struggled to suppress his fury and bellowed, "Brat, now that you've set foot on this Frost Arena, let me craft you a coffin of ice!"
"As expected of a woman's disciple — chatty, long-winded, and shrill." Jiang Chen frowned.
This bucket of cold water was even worse than the last one, snuffing out He Yan's ambitions of building momentum a second time in one fell swoop.
He Yan gloomily realized that with this barbaric brute, all appeals to courtesy, propriety, honor, and shame were completely useless—the fellow was simply too uncivilized to be provoked by such things.
It seemed he had no choice but to beat the brat into submission with sheer force.
His brow furrowed. He Yan spread his arms wide, the five fingers on each hand swaying gently in a soft, rhythmic cadence.
Without warning, flecks of frost-white starlight bloomed around his palms, expanding outward in a ceaseless spread.
"Star-Plucking Hand — Condense!"
He Yan's twin palms shot forward, his body streaking ahead like a bolt of lightning. Trailing streaks of crystalline frost, his strike coalesced into a swirling mass of ice and rime that seemed to freeze the very air around him.
Jiang Chen could only watch as the air before him crystallized inch by inch, forming translucent, gem-like formations of ice.
In the next instant, He Yan's Star-Plucking Hand had already lunged toward Jiang Chen's chest.
Once the Star-Plucking Hand latched onto a target, even the slightest brush of contact would be enough to freeze a person's blood solid—and could very well turn them into an icicle on the spot.
He Yan was brimming with confidence in his Star-Plucking Hand—honed over a full decade of dedicated practice, this was no empty boasting.
Jiang Chen stood rooted in place as countless frost-white ice crystals rapidly formed on the ground from every direction, instantly spreading up to his feet. The transparent ice crept all the way to his knees.
"Haha, brat, you're done for!"
Seeing his ice crystals lock the other's feet in place, He Yan was absolutely elated.