Chapter 22: The Ultimate Victor

After taking his seat in the viewing area, Zhang Ji continued to observe the disciples' matches on the arena. While these inner disciples of the Five Forms Sect were by no means weak, very few posed any real threat to him.

By yesterday, Zhang Ji had already accumulated four crystals and eight essences of the "Iron Cloth Shirt." This was equivalent to possessing forty-eight percent of the skill's full potential. With this level of hard-body cultivation, many disciples could not even break his defense if he stood still and let them strike him.

Soon, the list for the next round was posted, and the matches were set. Zhang Ji’s second match ended just as quickly as the first—a single blow was all it took to win. His opponent, hailing from the Leopard Hall, possessed strength around the third professional rank. Though his movements were agile, they were insufficient against Zhang Ji. After his claws failed to leave a mark on Zhang Ji’s body, a single punch sent him flying off the stage, his sternum seemingly fractured.

Third match, fourth match... Zhang Ji remained victorious, rarely needing more than three moves. Whenever he stepped onto the ring, his opponents invariably left with injuries. This left the other Five Forms disciples looking on with surprise or indignation, and even the referee frowned. Zhang Ji, however, remained indifferent; he had no intention of holding back. In his view, these inner disciples were all professional martial artists; to lose due to underestimating an opponent would be the greatest failure of all.

...

Meanwhile, in a small courtyard, Li Long was drinking tea with the Sect Leader, Yan Ruifeng. Before them sat a tablet streaming the inner sect tournament.

"Did you tell him to participate?" Yan Ruifeng asked.

"I wanted him to make an appearance, to get his face known," Li Long replied.

"He seems to have the strength of a late-stage second-rate fighter. How old is he?"

"I checked his bone structure; he is only sixteen," Li Long said, sipping his tea.

"His talent is indeed extraordinary to reach such a level in that environment," Yan Ruifeng nodded, then added, "Though he is a bit ruthless."

"I actually think he is being quite restrained," Li Long paused, his teacup hovering. He had heard of Zhang Ji’s record on Shanli Island. To say he was a cold-blooded killer was no exaggeration; he had at least fifty lives on his hands, and that was a conservative estimate. If he truly fought without reservation, none of those who faced him in this tournament would have survived.

Yan Ruifeng didn't press the matter. He was getting old, and due to his own limited achievements, he had always maintained a conservative stance. The Five Forms Sect would eventually fall into Li Long’s hands, and the sect’s future direction depended on him. Seeing Li Long's drive was something Yan Ruifeng welcomed; after all, he had always believed his disciple was no ordinary man and was destined to soar.

...

By the end of the day, Zhang Ji had fought his way into the finals. Among this group of inner disciples, there were truly few who could fight. While some might rival him in sheer power, none could compare to his practical combat experience. When Zhang Ji employed a "trade damage for damage" tactic, they were caught off guard, allowing him to easily defeat the two opponents who possessed fourth-rank professional strength. If your strikes don't affect me, but my strikes affect you, that is the advantage of specializing in hard-body combat techniques.

On the final stage, Zhang Ji faced a man wearing the uniform of the Tiger Hall.

"We are all fellow disciples; is there any need to be so ruthless?" Huai Wen'an asked.

"I have not broken the rules. I have not struck vital points, nor have I used lethal moves. I have been very restrained," Zhang Ji said coolly.

"But your strength is superior; you need not be so vicious. Leaving them crippled requires months of recovery, which causes them to miss so much training," Huai Wen'an stared at him.

Zhang Ji scoffed. "If you truly encountered such a situation outside, would a strong person hold back against the weak?"

"But this is a sect competition!" Huai Wen'an shouted.

"Which is precisely why they are still alive!" Zhang Ji retorted. By his usual standards, those who challenged him would be dead. The path he had to walk could not be blocked.

"It seems I must uphold justice for my fellow disciples," Huai Wen'an narrowed his eyes.

"Justice?" Zhang Ji appeared disdainful. He didn't bother to explain, simply saying, "Let’s see if you are qualified."

The referee had allowed the conversation to continue, clearly harboring his own dissatisfaction with Zhang Ji’s brutality—perhaps one of his favorite students had been injured. Only when the tension reached its peak did he give the signal.

"Disciples, bow!"

"Begin!"

After a brief salute, Zhang Ji and Huai Wen'an charged at each other simultaneously. Tiger Fist was a style of fierce, explosive power, and the Iron Cloth Shirt was hardly a delicate art. Both walked the path of head-on collisions; there was no room for maneuvering or feints.

*Whoosh!*

With a gust of wind, Huai Wen'an struck toward Zhang Ji’s chest with a curved palm. Zhang Ji raised his left arm to intercept.

*Clang!*

It sounded as if metal had struck metal. The force was absorbed by the muscles and bones of Zhang Ji's arm. With a twist of his torso, Zhang Ji retaliated with a straight punch from his right.

*Bang!*

Huai Wen'an blocked the strike. As they traded blows, the sounds of metallic clashing filled the air. This was the first time Zhang Ji’s true style had been fully revealed. The spectators were baffled.

"Is that Dragon Form Fist?"
"Why does it look like a hard-body technique?"
"Is he dual-cultivating? And what about his Dragon Form?"

Many were confused, and some began inquiring about Zhang Ji's background. However, aside from a select few, the other inner disciples knew nothing. Zhang Ji’s path to becoming a direct disciple had been kept quiet. Li Long had simplified the process to avoid a spectacle, as Zhang Ji's current strength was not yet enough to fully justify the title. As Li Long had noted, at his age, one usually needed the strength of a peak second-rate fighter—equivalent to a sixth-rank professional—to be a direct disciple. Zhang Ji was at most a fifth-rank, perhaps even fourth-rank, professional. A high-profile announcement would only invite unnecessary trouble.

On stage, after dozens of rounds, Zhang Ji was surprised to find he could not gain a decisive advantage. In terms of explosive power, Huai Wen'an was actually stronger. Zhang Ji had to rely on his ability to absorb and rebound force to keep the match even.

*Bang, bang, bang! Clang, clang, clang!*

The exchange grew fiercer. Huai Wen'an fought like a blacksmith, and Zhang Ji like an indestructible statue. Neither dodged. Zhang Ji had always enjoyed such opponents, but today, his mood was subtle. He wasn't winning.

*Clang! Bang!*

After trading kicks, the two separated. Huai Wen'an curled his palms, feet positioned for the Tiger Fist opening stance. Zhang Ji narrowed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and suddenly, his fingers curled into claws.

"Dragon Claws?" a spectator exclaimed.

Dragon Form Fist included claw techniques, but Zhang Ji only knew the entry-level "Raccoon Claw." However, bolstered by his forty-eight percent Iron Cloth Shirt, even this basic technique could be unleashed with the power of a master. This was the crushing weight of superior stats!

*Swish, swish, swish!*

Zhang Ji lunged. This time, Huai Wen'an was cautious, using technique to parry the claws. But with a flick of his wrist, Zhang Ji nimbly hooked Huai Wen'an’s sleeve.

*Rip!*

The sleeve of Huai Wen'an’s left arm was torn away, leaving white marks on his skin. Zhang Ji thought to himself: *As expected.* To maintain such explosive power, the opponent's defense had to be excellent. But if that strike had landed fully, it should have drawn blood.

Huai Wen'an felt the sting and grew wary. He dared not let Zhang Ji’s claws land again, and his courageous spirit faltered. Zhang Ji, however, was fully committed to trading damage. He was betting that his Iron Cloth Shirt was tougher than his opponent’s body.

As one grew bolder and the other grew hesitant, the scales of victory began to tip. When the Tiger Form loses its courage, it is worse than a dog. Zhang Ji began to weave more claw techniques into his strikes, flowing with increasing ease.

*Slash!*

Two fingers swept across Huai Wen'an’s chest, leaving two shallow bloodstains. Huai Wen'an managed to land a palm strike on Zhang Ji in return.

*Hum!*

The sound rang out. Zhang Ji absorbed almost all the force, rebounding a portion back into Huai Wen'an’s palm, numbing it. No one else could train the Iron Cloth Shirt to forty-eight percent, and the pinnacle martial arts of the Diamond Sect were never meant to be mere defensive poses. The Iron Cloth Shirt, derived from these roots, possessed mysteries that Zhang Ji was only beginning to tap into. Dealing with such an opponent was a nightmare.

*Swish-swish! Hum-hum!*

Huai Wen'an struck him repeatedly, but Zhang Ji didn't bother to guard, seeking only to claw his opponent in return. Before long, Huai Wen'an’s hands were red from the vibrations, and his body and arms were covered in bloody claw marks, staining his brown robes red. Zhang Ji was not unscathed—he felt the pain of the strikes—but his injuries were far lighter.

Gradually, Huai Wen'an was pushed to the edge of the ring. Zhang Ji surged forward, channeling power from his waist and spine into a final Dragon Punch.

*Bang!*

Huai Wen'an blocked with both arms but was still sent flying, caught by the teacher waiting at the edge of the stage. His arms trembled, his palms a bruised, angry red. He had never felt more frustrated. In the past, no one dared to take his hits head-on; they always dodged. This was the first time someone had treated him like a punching bag while he himself was afraid to strike back. A literal thorny turtle!

"Teacher, it is time to announce the winner," Zhang Ji said to the referee.

The referee, maintaining his professionalism, made the declaration.

"The winner of this month’s tournament is Zhang Ji!"