The stone slabs of the mountain path, battered repeatedly by the back of Wang Lie's skull, had been smashed into a small pit of crushed stone—it was a testament to the sheer force and ferocity of Zhang Yan's strikes.
By the end, Wang Lie was barely clinging to life, his gasps weak and frail. Even then, Zhang Yan, unwilling to leave anything to chance, dislocated the joints of Wang Lie's four limbs before slowly rising to his feet. Only then did he notice the sweat soaking through his heavy garments, despite the briefness of their clash.
Witnessing this series of events, Ai Zhongwen stood wide-eyed and speechless. Zhang Yan, usually the picture of grace and sophistication, had transformed into an embodiment of ruthless savagery—a beast pouncing on its prey. Even as a spectator, Ai Zhongwen found his body stiff and his cold sweat trickling down. Looking at Wang Lie, unconscious and utterly defeated, Ai Zhongwen couldn't resist stammering out in a trembling voice: "Brother Zhang, we're merely sparring as fellow disciples, was this truly necessary?"
Zhang Yan replied indifferently, "Brother Ai, you must understand—if you don't kill the tiger, it'll turn around and devour you! If I didn't harm him today, he would surely harm me tomorrow!"
From his previous life in an apocalyptic world, Zhang Yan had seen endless examples of foes near death staging miraculous comebacks, all because of a single moment of carelessness. How could he afford to be heedless now? He'd rather exert himself further than leave a shred of an opportunity for his opponent.
Ai Zhongwen reluctantly accepted Zhang Yan's explanation, yet the savage image of Zhang Yan's earlier outburst still left him unsettled.
Zhang Yan glanced at Wang Lie lying on the ground, his face smeared with blood, barely breathing. A silent sigh of relief escaped Zhang Yan's heart.
Wang Lie's true strength far exceeded his own; the disparity between their capabilities wasn't exaggerated in the slightest. A formidable opponent like this would indeed be difficult to handle. However, Zhang Yan's experience in killing was boundless, and his resolve was unyielding; he wouldn't panic at the prospect of a strong adversary. Instead, he tirelessly sought an opening.
It was Wang Lie's words earlier that had exposed a crack in his armor. Zhang Yan had discerned that his opponent lacked steadfast determination, had no intention of securing victory, and was likely sent by someone else, burdened with apprehension of combat and injury.
Steeped in the bloodied art of battle, Zhang Yan immediately employed provoking words to unsettle Wang Lie. As he silently gathered every ounce of strength within himself, he prepared for his strike in secret. Sure enough, after a few phrases, Wang Lie grew visibly agitated, his breathing became uneven—a subtle yet critical shift that Zhang Yan seized upon without hesitation, striking swiftly to secure his victory.
Yet, defeating a formidable foe wasn't all he had gained.
As he delivered the decisive blow, he distinctly felt his Dan Acupoint abruptly open and close. The Primordial Qi surged within him, rushing like a torrent, an unstoppable tide that seemed ready to break free from his body. Fortunately, in the repetitive sequence of punches that followed, the force gradually dissipated. To his surprise and delight, even though much of the Qi dispersed, the final traces left behind were noticeably more refined and concentrated than before.
It felt as though he had stumbled upon the true method for tempering Primordial Qi.
After entering the stage of Yuan Condensation, Primordial Qi was locked deep within the Dan Acupoint, beyond the control of Divine Intent, making even the slightest extraction a monumental challenge. Refining the Qi was practically impossible—but in that razor-thin moment between life and death, his Dan Acupoint had opened on its own.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps this was the same technique Chen Feng had discovered long ago. Chen Feng had repeatedly challenged fellow disciples, seemingly seeking to trigger the opening of his Dan Acupoint under extreme external pressure and then condense the Qi through his breathing and Divine Intent, thus refining it into a purer form.
It seemed that the more intense the life-and-death struggle, the greater the likelihood of stimulating the Dan Acupoint's opening. What had initially appeared to be an unrefined, troublesome ordeal now felt far from mysterious after his own harrowing experience.
Ai Zhongwen stepped forward, pulling out a vial of elixir pills from his sleeve and placing it in Zhang Yan's hand. "Brother Zhang, after fighting several battles in a single day, you should take these pills to recover through breathing adjustments; there's no telling what challenges tomorrow may bring."
Zhang Yan held the pills in his hand but did not immediately consume them. Instead, he sank into deep contemplation.
The Guangyuan Sect had sent such a formidable figure overnight, which clearly indicated their lack of intention for prolonged campaigning—they had formulated a plan for swift, decisive strikes.
This was not a favorable signal.
He could defeat one Wang Lie, but there was no guarantee he could handle two or three. Chen Feng had never faced many strong opponents during his time at the Nanhua Sect; that didn't mean such situations couldn't happen.
This made Zhang Yan waver briefly.
Standing at the Mountain Gate to intercept disciples from the two sects carried immense risk. Now that he had discovered the correct path and obtained the Broken Jade, he was confident that he could refine his Primordial Qi without resorting to life-and-death strife. There was no longer any need for him to remain here and clash with the disciples of both sects.
But wasn't his very purpose in joining the Dharma Assembly to make his name known? Such a prime opportunity couldn't simply be let go.
Although it was common wisdom that one couldn't have both the fish and the bear's paw, Zhang Yan refused to give up either.
At this thought, a faint, cold smile crept across his lips. Since the Guangyuan Sect aimed for rapid battles, then he would play right into their hands.
"Brother Ai, deliver the challenge on my behalf. Tell them that Zhang Yan of the Nanhua Sect invites the Guangyuan Sect to a duel three days from now—to contest the Star Tablet!"
Ai Zhongwen's eyes widened sharply in astonishment. After a long pause, he finally regained his composure, grabbing Zhang Yan's sleeve urgently. "Brother Zhang, have you gone mad? Please reconsider—be prudent!"
The Star Tablet was originally inscribed by virtuous sages to record the tracks of heavenly stars. It was written entirely in Erosion Text, consisting of nine tablets in total. It was said that within the texts lay profound mysteries of Heavenly Mechanism and cosmic transformation. Six of the tablets had been interpreted and deciphered by people in the current age, but the mutable nature of starlines meant that individual interpretations varied greatly.
These six tablets served as the Sealing Steles of the Xuanwen Conference, entrusted to the East Master for safekeeping during the Dharma Assembly.
The tablet inscriptions were exceptionally peculiar; while deciphering them, one's own breath would spontaneously align with the shifting paths of the stars. If one grasped the method, it would yield immense benefits. However, a single misstep—if one's alignment clashed with the star track—would result in chaos of breath, damaged meridians, or even worse: harm to the Divine Soul and complete destruction of the Dao Foundation. In such a contest, it was not simply about interpreting Xuanwen—it was a battle of life and death.
Zhang Yan remained calm and steadfast, his voice steady as he replied, "Brother Ai, would you rather stay here and wait for the Guangyuan Sect to come for us, or would you prefer to take the initiative? It's better to end this in one decisive battle!"