Chapter 39: The Victory Came So Easily

"You actually have 373 unused points... Well, well, well!" Zhou Yuanlong's eyes lit up, gleaming like a hungry wolf spotting a lamb.

"Hold on!"

Qingxi extended a hand and said, "If you want to compete with me, show your own points first. Otherwise, are you hoping to get something for nothing?"

A flicker of anger crossed Zhou Yuanlong's eyes, but he still took out his Inner Sect disciple token, infused it with energy, and two sets of numbers appeared—one white, one red.

The white number was "612," the red "103."

The white represented total points, the red, points available for exchange.

This meant Zhou Yuanlong had spent the majority of his points on pills, weapons, and other items, leaving only a sixth of his points available for exchange.

Seeing the pitiful 103 exchangeable points, Qingxi pursed his lips and said with obvious disdain, "A seasoned Inner Sect disciple, and you only have a little over a hundred points left? How poor!"

For the first time, Zhou Yuanlong found himself openly ridiculed. His face flushed with anger. "What do you want?"

Qingxi's eyes darted. "Since you only have a bit over a hundred points, I'll match your stake. If you win, the 103 points are yours; if you lose, all your exchangeable points go to me."

"Wait!" Zhou Yuanlong glanced around, found several acquaintances, borrowed points from each, and managed to gather a round four hundred. He looked proudly at Qingxi. "I’ll use four hundred points. Is that enough?"

Qingxi nodded in satisfaction. "Alright. Since the formalities are complete, let’s hurry and fight. Time is precious, after all."

He rubbed his hands together, eager to begin.

Zhou Yuanlong looked into Qingxi’s fierce, wolfish gaze and suddenly felt as if he were the lamb after all. He quickly shook his head to clear the absurd notion and regained his icy composure.

On an open space a hundred meters from the Mission Hall, the two stood ten meters apart, facing each other.

Nearby, a crowd had gathered to spectate.

"How many moves do you think Zhou Yuanlong will need to win?"

"How many? He’ll finish it in one!"

"Exactly! Why even ask about such an easy match..."

Most sneered, clearly not expecting much from Qingxi.

Though Qingxi had never revealed his cultivation, he looked like a boy of fifteen or sixteen—how powerful could he be? In contrast, Zhou Yuanlong was a seasoned disciple with experience hunting mid-grade human-level beasts alone—his reputation was well-earned.

Some rubbed their eyes and murmured, "That boy looks familiar... Where have I seen him before?"

"Wait, isn’t he the one who mastered over a hundred martial arts in two days? Even Elder Lei Yao couldn’t do anything about him!"

"That’s right, I remember now! I think his cultivation is at the fifteenth stage of Qi Refinement?"

"What? With only the fifteenth stage and he dares accept Zhou Yuanlong’s challenge? Is he out of his mind?" Some stared at Qingxi with pity.

Mastering many techniques certainly strengthens one’s abilities, but only when fighting peers. Against someone ten stages ahead, even perfect mastery is useless.

As chatter buzzed, the situation in the arena shifted.

"So you’re that genius who mastered a hundred martial arts. Too bad, fifteenth stage—are you looking for a beating?" Zhou Yuanlong laughed, full of disdain.

He waved Qingxi over. "I’ll give you a chance to strike first, so you can’t claim I bullied the weak later."

Qingxi scoffed, left hand behind his back. "Only the twenty-sixth stage of Qi Refinement? Today, I’ll defeat you with just one hand."

"You insolent brat, courting death!"

Zhou Yuanlong was incensed. He unleashed a perfected King Kong Fist, so swift and powerful that it tore through the air with a fierce whistle.

Qingxi’s eyes narrowed, and he employed spatial interference. Though the affected area was only the size of a fist, it was enough to create a subtle deviation in Zhou Yuanlong’s attack.

Yet, Zhou Yuanlong, absorbed in his rapid assault, failed to notice this slight change.

He stepped forward, quickly closing the distance. His golden fist sliced through the air.

"Spatial Interference!"

Qingxi used the technique again and again, subtly diverting Zhou Yuanlong’s strikes.

To everyone’s surprise, the blow meant for Qingxi’s face landed off target.

"What’s going on?"

"Is Zhou Yuanlong holding back?"

The crowd craned their necks, eyes wide, watching the strange scene unfold.

Zhou Yuanlong was dumbfounded. His fist should have struck Qingxi squarely—how had it missed?

Prepared for this, Qingxi seized the opportunity, landing a powerful Giant Rock Palm on Zhou Yuanlong’s chest, sending him flying several meters, crashing down in a heap.

The crowd was stunned.

"Zhou Yuanlong, did you skip breakfast? Where are you aiming? Right here!" Qingxi still kept his left hand behind his back, pointing with his right to his handsome face.

"I’m so furious!"

Zhou Yuanlong slammed his hands to the ground, using the rebound to launch himself at Qingxi, unleashing a Whirlwind Kick.

Qingxi smirked, standing his ground, seamlessly employing spatial interference. Zhou Yuanlong found his kick, which should have swept toward Qingxi’s face, inexplicably veering upward.

He missed again.

"What the—what’s happening?"

Zhou Yuanlong was terrified. He tried to retract his leg, but too late.

Qingxi grabbed Zhou Yuanlong’s leg, swinging him like a sandbag and slamming him face down onto the ground. The dull thud made everyone wince.

Dazed and dirty, Zhou Yuanlong lay there, stars spinning in his vision.

For a moment, he forgot to attack, pondering why this was happening.

Had his frequent visits to the Clear Moon Pavilion lately left him weak?

But that couldn’t be! He’d been taking third-grade Strengthening Pills—he shouldn’t be lacking in vitality!

While Zhou Yuanlong questioned his life choices, Qingxi stepped back five meters and beckoned, "Zhou Yuanlong, are you feeling weak? If so, you should replenish yourself."

"No, I’m not weak!"

Zhou Yuanlong roared instinctively, eyes bloodshot, vowing to drag Qingxi down and grind him into the dirt.

Yet, with horror, he saw his fist miss again.

Bang!

Zhou Yuanlong was knocked to the ground with a palm strike.

Still, he leapt up with a roar, launched another Whirlwind Kick, but once more missed, only to be felled by Qingxi’s timely punch.

Over and over, this repeated a dozen times. Zhou Yuanlong finally wilted, collapsed, bruised and battered, staring up at the sky, doubting his existence.

"I am weak… I really am weak!"

"From now on, I’ll never visit Clear Moon Pavilion again!"

Zhou Yuanlong wailed, forced to accept this bitter reality.

The crowd was stupefied. No one expected Zhou Yuanlong to say such a thing, but seeing him miss every time, they began to believe he truly was weak.

Otherwise, how could he miss so consistently?

Qingxi, watching the sobbing Zhou Yuanlong on the ground, clicked his tongue. "That was an easy win."