Chapter 21: The Commencement of the Monthly Tournament

Opening the porcelain bottle, Zhang Ji poured out a pill that looked like a sugar candy and swallowed it. Before long, he felt his energy and spirit significantly restored.

Practicing the "Dragon Form Fist" was far more difficult than the "Iron Cloth Shirt," especially the process of refining primordial qi. Each time he refined the energy, he felt exhausted both mentally and physically.

After resting briefly, Zhang Ji condensed his combat skills into crystals and essences, stored them within his spatial boundary, and resumed his "Iron Cloth Shirt" training. He had a very clear understanding of himself: he was still weak, and in such a complex world, only by constantly striving and improving his strength could he earn the right to stand firm.

"Thwack, thwack, thwack!"

Under the rhythmic striking of the wooden mallet, Zhang Ji felt something different this time. Following the pain, a tingling sensation and a surge of warmth flowed through the affected areas.

Primordial qi!

Zhang Ji had a moment of realization. This bio-energy had many functions, but its universal effect was to nourish the body and heal internal injuries. Since it was energy extracted from his own body, applying it back had excellent results.

Within the True Self School, practitioners of the Primordial Qi faction might not necessarily have the highest raw combat power, but their health-preserving techniques were undoubtedly the best. As long as one did not practice incorrectly or over-extract the energy, there was no risk of physical deterioration. On the contrary, the older one got, the more profound their primordial qi cultivation became, leading to a better physical state and greater combat effectiveness.

It took quite some effort this time for Zhang Ji to beat his body until it was flushed red. The primordial qi quickly repaired the damage, forcing him to strike for several dozen minutes more than usual to achieve the same result. He could have hit harder, but he was not yet confident in gauging the limit and did not want to be reckless.

After soaking in the medicinal bath, he clearly felt the changes within his body. This session was easily equivalent to three days of work; once the medicine was fully absorbed, he would certainly be able to condense an essence.

In other words, by dual-cultivating the "Dragon Form Fist," his training efficiency had actually increased rather than decreased. Zhang Ji mused on this. He had originally intended to switch entirely to the "Iron Cloth Shirt" and shelve the "Dragon Form Fist," but at this rate, he could obtain six "Iron Cloth Shirt" combat skill crystals two months ahead of schedule.

However, this increased his demand for Essence Pills. Zhang Ji could clearly feel his body weakening after such an intense session. One pill a day used to be sufficient, but now he felt he would need about two. Looking at the Essence Pills available in the Five Forms Sect's online store, he grew increasingly focused on the upcoming inner sect monthly competition.

***

The next day, the machine Zhang Ji ordered was delivered to his courtyard. Yes, he lived in an independent courtyard—one of the perks of being a direct disciple. As long as he lived, this place was his.

A drone dropped the wooden crate into the yard. After opening it, Zhang Ji found a folding iron cube about a meter square.

"Connect to Wi-Fi and launch via the app?"

Zhang Ji operated his phone and clicked start. The iron cube began to hum, its indicator lights flashing as it unfolded into a structure resembling a wooden dummy. This was not a wooden dummy, but a customized training post for the "Iron Cloth Shirt." It could strike with high-frequency vibrations, allowed for adjustable force levels, and a single charge lasted several days. It was much easier than his own manual hammering.

He immediately put it to use.

"Hum!"

The device buzzed, and the small, padded fists on the iron dummy began to strike rapidly. Zhang Ji stepped inside, and in an instant, his entire body was being pelted from all sides. It was far more convenient than having to strike one spot at a time himself.

Less than half an hour later, Zhang Ji was flushed red all over. The efficiency was at least five times higher than his own! He still had energy to spare, meaning he could practice the "Dragon Form Fist" after his medicinal bath.

Looking back at the iron post, Zhang Ji sighed, "A combination of the ancient and the modern, indeed."

Over the next few days, Zhang Ji stuck to this routine: "Iron Cloth Shirt" followed by "Dragon Form Fist," then an Essence Pill. He discovered that his primordial qi extraction was most effective when he was in his peak state—that is, when all his "Iron Cloth Shirt" combat skill crystals were integrated into his body. In this state, his physique was stronger, he could extract more energy, and his absorption rate for the Essence Pills was optimal.

He learned to switch between states: practicing the "Iron Cloth Shirt" in his normal state, and "Dragon Form Fist" and pill consumption in his full state. Martial arts often complement each other, especially within the same school. Just like the five master-level fist techniques of the Five Forms Sect, they were mutually beneficial.

Time quickly arrived for the day of the Five Forms Sect's inner sect monthly competition. In the training arena, five hundred inner disciples stood in formation, wearing their sect uniforms. The Five Forms Sect was divided into five halls based on their respective fist techniques, with uniforms color-coded and patterned accordingly: Snake was green, Crane was white, Leopard was yellow, Tiger was brown, and Dragon was blue.

Though no one in the current Five Forms Sect trained in the "Dragon Form Fist" from the basics, there was one person on the field wearing the blue Dragon Form uniform: Zhang Ji.

Standing beside him was Tan Honglang, a core disciple and a professional seventh-dan expert overseeing the competition. In the Five Forms Sect, only those who reached professional fifth-dan by twenty and seventh-dan by thirty could become core disciples, serving as the backbone of the sect's administration.

"Direct Disciple Zhang, please take your place," Tan Honglang said with a bow. Zhang Ji nodded and moved to the end of the line. Many people were eyeing him; his sudden participation in the monthly competition while wearing the long-defunct Dragon Hall uniform invited speculation. Yet, no one whispered, as the sect's discipline was strict.

After Tan Honglang finished his generic, morale-boosting speech, the competition began. Five hundred people were divided into ten groups to fight in rounds. The rules were simple: bare-knuckle combat, no striking vital points, and victory was achieved by knocking the opponent out of the ring, keeping them down for ten seconds, or forcing a forfeit.

Zhang Ji checked his phone to see he was in the fourth match of the first round on the fifth arena. He began to observe the others. The inner disciples were of professional fighting caliber, and the matches were intense. Even without striking vital points, broken bones and flesh wounds were common. Only here could they practice such realistic combat. The sect's pharmaceutical technology was good enough that, barring catastrophic injury, most fractures healed within a month.

This was exactly the kind of ruthlessness the sect wanted to cultivate. They did not want disciples who lacked backbone and would only flee when facing trouble outside. Zhang Ji felt the headache this caused the authorities—it was no wonder the East Pole Nation tried so hard to stifle these sects. Their martial power was simply too high, posing a threat to social stability.

However, from Zhang Ji's perspective, the world was always ruled by the strong. If the authorities couldn't govern the country well, why not replace them? If they lacked the ability, the Five Forms Sect could always field a candidate for parliament!

He cast these thoughts aside and focused on the matches. These disciples were already practicing the four master-level techniques of Snake, Crane, Leopard, and Tiger, which were far superior to the basics. Each had its advantages, almost forming a cycle of mutual restraint. If one could master all four, they would have almost no weaknesses.

He thought of Li Long, who had displayed profound mastery of all five forms on Shanli Island. His moves had the ferocity of a tiger, the explosive speed of a leopard, the agility of a crane, and the grappling and deflection skills of a snake, not to mention his advanced mastery of the Dragon Form's primordial qi attacks. Most shocking was his age—only twenty-six.

In the later versions of the game he remembered, there was no such NPC. He could only assume that something had changed.

Just then, the fourth match at the fifth arena ended. Zhang Ji received the notification and walked toward the ring. After showing his registration number, he stepped up. Another man approached—a slender figure who leaped onto the four-meter-high platform with a light tap of his toes. Seeing the white crane embroidered on his uniform, Zhang Ji knew which hall he was from.

"Both sides, salute," the referee commanded.

"Crane Hall, Xiao Xuan," the man said, bowing.

"Zhang Ji," he replied, returning the gesture.

"Begin!"

*Bang!*

In an instant, Xiao Xuan was sent flying out of the ring. The speed was so great that many spectators didn't even react. Zhang Ji never underestimated his opponents; facing a Crane Hall disciple specialized in movement, he unleashed his full power immediately with a shoulder-check. The man was sent crashing eight meters away.

Medical staff quickly moved to carry him off, and the referee declared Zhang Ji the winner. Zhang Ji didn't care whether the man lived or died; his expression remained unchanged. If you want to compete, you must be prepared to pay the price. That is an eternal truth.