Chapter Forty-Two: Then This Junior Will Not Hold Back

The illusionary world felt remarkably real, each piece seamlessly connected, and Xu Chen’s face was lit with eager anticipation.
“Don’t! I’ll tell you!” The disciple clamped his legs tightly shut.
“When you enter the illusion formation, any weapon you carry comes with you,” the man blurted out, panic flooding his features.
“Did you know this beforehand, or did you discover it by accident?”
“Of course I knew ahead of time. Most well-informed disciples are aware.”
Xu Chen sighed at this, then without hesitation, plunged his dagger into the man’s temple.
The corpse dissolved into a shimmer of spiritual light, and the number in Xu Chen’s palm changed from one to two.
“Still, it’s rather easy.”
“Pity the weapon can’t be kept.”
The dagger too vanished as spiritual light.
“I wonder how long this will last. I just need to collect ten points this time.”
Xu Chen stood atop a hill, gazing into the distance.
“Will there be team battles ahead?”
Far off, he saw a swarm of indistinct figures locked in combat.
“Something exciting!” Xu Chen’s interest was piqued, and he dashed toward the fray.
On the far side of the hill, he lay prone in the grass, quietly observing the distant battlefield.
Hundreds of disciples fought in a chaotic melee, representatives of various clans, corpses flashing into spiritual light now and then.
“Wow, a real free-for-all.”
There were no allies here, only adversaries.
Watching from the sidelines, Xu Chen’s heart surged with excitement, yearning to join in.
But his own blood energy, once unleashed in the melee, would mark him to all as easy prey—less than five tiger’s worth, just a small monster to be instantly slain, but even that small monster was worth a point.
“Maybe I can scavenge a leftover kill.”
Xu Chen hid himself, buried in the grass with only his eyes exposed.
The battle dwindled from hundreds to a dozen survivors.
The remaining disciples grew wary, slowly retreating from the field.
“It’s over, and I got nothing,” Xu Chen lamented.
He had no designs on the dozen who remained; anyone emerging from such chaos must be exceptional, and the odds of killing one were minuscule, the risk of failure enormous.
When the fight ended, Xu Chen shed his disguise and dusted off his clothes.
As he prepared to leave, a voice sounded behind him.
“I never expected to meet someone with the same passion for camouflage.”
Startled, Xu Chen turned.
Not more than a yard from where Xu Chen had hidden, a human-shaped patch of turf rose and then stood upright.
A man, slightly shorter than Xu Chen, removed his disguise and revealed himself.

Xu Chen stared at the man in shock, then leapt back several yards, taking up a defensive stance.
“No need for hostility. If I’d wished you harm, I would have struck when you were beside me,” the man said with a cheerful grin.
“Your camouflage is truly flawless, senior. I’m impressed.”
Xu Chen had watched for two hours from his hiding spot, yet never sensed the man breathing less than a yard away.
“It’s just a hobby. But you, junior, watching that distant melee with such weak blood energy and still looking eager—I suspect you’re more extraordinary than you seem.”
“Let’s be friends. My name’s Zong Changshou,” he said, bowing.
“Xu Chen.”
Though he spoke of friendship, Xu Chen kept his distance.
“After the trial, I’ll be sure to visit you.”
“Farewell.”
“Farewell.”
Watching Zong Changshou’s figure fade into the distance, Xu Chen’s lips curled into a slight smile.
“What an interesting fellow.”
“I must hurry and gather points.”
He looked toward a distant mountain, intending to climb and survey the battlefield.
On a rugged mountain path, Xu Chen stood atop a boulder, his gaze solemn as he sized up the disciple blocking his way, thoughts racing.
“Junior, let’s fight. Win, and you pass. Lose, and you become my points.”
The disciple blocking him was tall, both fists sheathed in iron gauntlets.
“Another well-informed disciple,” Xu Chen muttered, eyeing the gauntlets.
“Senior, this seems a bit unfair.”
“What’s unfair? You can kill me for points too.”
The tall man summoned all his blood energy, launching a punch at Xu Chen.
“In that case...”
Xu Chen met him head-on, then retreated several yards, channeling his energy to absorb the force.
“Then I won’t be polite.”
After exchanging blows, Xu Chen sensed his opponent’s strength was less than a dragon’s, and lacked the thick armor of the Golden Thunder Bull—he could handle this.
“Interesting. You seem confident, junior.” The man scoffed, fists poised.
Xu Chen said nothing, charging straight at him.
Half an hour later, as disbelief filled the man’s eyes, Xu Chen struck his crown with a palm, destroying his brain.
The corpse dissolved into spiritual light, and Xu Chen’s number rose to three.
“Thankfully he lacked combat experience, or he might have escaped,” Xu Chen said with relief.
After a few moves, the man had tried to flee, but Xu Chen’s relentless attacks trapped him.
When the force buried in the man’s body finally erupted, Xu Chen was able to kill him.
He looked toward the mountain peak but decided to stop halfway up, gazing into the distance.
“That silhouette looks like Senior Niu.”

The situation was dire.
A few miles away, several figures were besieging a golden figure.
Xu Chen couldn’t see the Golden Thunder Bull’s face clearly, but the familiar techniques confirmed his identity.
“It must be Senior Niu. I’ll help!”
Xu Chen sped down the mountain toward the battle.
“I’ll crush you all!”
Even before he reached the field, Niu Dali’s furious roar echoed.
Xu Chen observed four attackers surrounding Niu Dali, none particularly strong.
At the center, Niu Dali spotted Xu Chen, his joy uncontained.
“Xu Chen!”
“I’m here!”
Xu Chen joined the fray, fighting shoulder to shoulder with Niu Dali.
Niu Dali attacked while Xu Chen provided support.
“Mighty Waves!”
Xu Chen slammed his palm into one attacker, strange energy infiltrating and exploding within.
The disciple tried to counter, but a sudden sharp pain seized him.
Before he could react, a fist the size of a sandbag smashed into his face.
Bang!
A headless corpse fell.
The remaining three recoiled in terror, scrambling to escape.
Xu Chen darted to another, striking him with his palm.
Niu Dali followed closely, breaking the man’s legs with a well-timed blow.
“Xu Chen, this one’s yours.”
Xu Chen struck the man’s crown, shattering his brain—years of sparring with Niu Dali had forged their perfect teamwork.
“Two left. The stronger one’s yours, the weaker mine.”
The last two tried to flee in opposite directions; Xu Chen found the weakest.
Night fell, and the illusionary world glimmered with starlight.
Man and bull regrouped after chasing down their targets.
“Teaming up with you is always satisfying, Xu Chen.”
“I feel the same.”
Man and bull laughed heartily together.