Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

Chapter 197: One Palm

After the words "The competition begins" were uttered, no one in the waiting area immediately stood up.

Everyone was still immersed in what had just happened.

The image of the vice president turning into a shooting star and disappearing into the horizon is still etched in everyone's mind.

The waiting area remained quiet for a long time.

Two rows behind Chen Ping, a dark-skinned young man lowered his head, his gaze fixed on an empty stone bench beside him.

He reached out and touched the edge of the stone bench, his fingertips lingering on the cold stone surface for a moment.

The person next to him asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

The man nodded, his voice very soft.

"He was from the same hometown as me. We entered Cangwu together. On the second night in Nanling, he covered my retreat and didn't escape."

He pulled his hand off the stone bench and clenched it into a fist.

He didn't say anything more.

In the waiting area, he wasn't the only one looking at the empty chairs.

......

The first round of elimination matches has begun.

The burly instructor stood beside the arena, with a bronze divination tube in front of him containing one hundred and twenty-seven bamboo sticks.

He reached into the divination tube, pulled out two sticks, unfolded them, and read them aloud in a deep voice.

"The first match is between Zhao Kun and Liu Changhe."

On the left side of the waiting area, a thin young man stood up, took a deep breath, and walked towards the ring.

On the right, a young man from a prominent family, dressed in a brocade robe, also stood up, straightened his clothes, and slowly stepped forward.

The two men stood on the platform, clasped their hands in greeting, and then began to fight.

The fight wasn't particularly exciting. The two students, both at the Transformation Realm, exchanged blows, attacking and defending, for about twenty moves. The skinny young man was kicked off the stage, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, but he managed to get up on his own.

The second match, the third match, and the fourth match.

"The second match is between Zhang Hu and Wang Yue."

"The third match..."

"The fourth match..."

One match after another, names were read out one after another.

The waiting area dwindled in number. Some who had won came back sitting up, panting; some who had lost walked out with crestfallen faces; and some were carried out.

Chen Ping closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the impact on the ring and the cheers from the audience, silently counting in his mind.

I don't know how many rounds have passed.

The burly instructor reached into the divination tube again.

Take out two bamboo sticks.

Unfold.

"The thirty-seventh scene."

His voice echoed around the arena.

"Chen Ping."

"Against Xue Yuanlang."

The atmosphere in the waiting area changed slightly.

Chen Ping opened his eyes and stood up.

Behind him, Zhang Tingwan whispered, "Brother Chen, be quick about it."

Chen Ping didn't turn around and strode towards the arena.

Across from them, in the waiting area on the right, a young man in his early twenties stood up.

His gaze fell on Chen Ping's towering figure, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his palms clenched sweat.

Xue Fengsheng sat beside him, glanced at him, and said in a low voice, "The family raised you just for this day."

"Go up there. I don't expect you to win. Just try to deplete as much of his trump cards and inner energy as possible. Remember, don't admit defeat until his arms and legs are broken."

The man nodded, gritted his teeth, and walked towards the arena.

Chen Ping went up to the ring first.

He climbed the six steps one by one, each step firm and steady, the bluestone steps making a dull thud under his feet.

The arena is very large.

It was bigger than he had imagined.

Standing in the center of the arena, he could feel the gazes coming from all directions, like countless threads simultaneously draped over him.

The breathing, discussions, and whispers of tens of thousands of people in the audience blended into a buzzing tide of sound.

He stood there with his hands behind his back, without drawing his sword.

On the other side, Xue Yuanlang stepped onto the stage.

He was in his early twenties, of medium build, with a fair complexion. He wore a dark gray outfit, and underneath, one could vaguely see a close-fitting armor with fine, dense scales that gleamed with a dull metallic sheen in the sunlight.

Precious armor.

He wore a long sword at his waist, the scabbard of which was engraved with the Xue family's emblem.

His qi and blood fluctuations were very strong, his internal energy transformation was perfected, and the aura of his internal energy could be faintly felt to be more than twenty, indicating that he was already on the verge of breaking through to the Yuan Gang level.

A deacon walked to the center of the arena, stood between the two, and repeated the rules.

"The game ends when someone concedes defeat. The winner may not pursue the opponent. The person who is knocked out of the ring is declared the loser. The person who holds back is disqualified."

He glanced at the two of them and stepped aside.

"start."

In the distance, the VIP section of the stands.

Cui Qingwei was leaning back in his chair, bored out of his mind. He was resting his chin on one hand and popping a candied fruit into his mouth with the other. He had watched more than thirty matches, most of which were duels between cultivators at the Transformation Realm, which was not very interesting.

Upon hearing the name "Chen Ping," he sat up straight, swallowed the candied fruit in his mouth in a few gulps, and craned his neck to look at the arena.

"Here it comes, here it comes."

He turned to look at Cui Qingyi beside him.

"Little sister, how many moves do you think that kid who's reached the peak of his internal energy cultivation can withstand? Will he just give up?"

Cui Qingyi sat upright the whole time, and she watched every single one of the previous thirty-plus matches.

She spoke calmly, "This person is from a collateral branch of the Xue family; he shouldn't admit defeat."

Her gaze fell on Xue Yuanlang and paused for a moment.

"However, I observe that he has more than twenty internal energy cores. He should be able to withstand three moves from Chen Ping."

Cui Qingwei chuckled and shook his head.

I don't think so.

He gestured towards the ring with his lip.

"Look at that person, he's wearing a precious armor. With that armor protecting him, he should be able to withstand ten attacks."

Cui Qingyi glanced at her brother, but didn't reply. Her gaze returned to the arena.

......

On the stage.

The butler had barely finished saying "Begin" when

Xue Yuanlang gritted his teeth and no longer hesitated.

We must seize the initiative!

The longsword was drawn, its cold light flashing, and the tip pierced straight for Chen Ping's throat.

The first sword strike was swift.

The second sword strike was even faster.

The third sword strike came from the side, taking a tricky route, and aimed straight for Chen Ping's ribs.

His swordsmanship had reached its peak; his moves were sharp and fluid, flowing like water.

But Chen Ping could tell at a glance that although this person's swordsmanship was highly accomplished, there was a momentary pause between the transitions of his moves.

It's so short that the average person can't tell.

But in his eyes, it was like a door opening a crack.

Chen Ping did not draw his sword.

He raised his hand during the brief interval between Xue Yuanlang's third and fourth sword strikes.

A casual snapshot.

It's like swatting a mosquito that's landed on your shoulder.

He patted Xue Yuanlang's chest lightly.

boom.

A dull thud.

Xue Yuanlang's body left the ground like a leaf blown away by the wind, flying backward from the center of the arena, over the edge of the arena, over the steps, and landing on the ground several hundred steps away.

In mid-air, the edges of his armor cracked inch by inch under the immense force, and several fragments fell off in mid-air, clattering and tinkling as they landed on the arena.

Xue Yuanlang crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust, and lay there motionless.

It happened in no more than two breaths.

Before the steward who was reading the rules could even step off the stage, Xue Yuanlang had already done so.

The steward stood frozen on the steps, looking down at Xue Yuanlang lying in the distance, then looking up at Chen Ping standing in the center of the arena with his hands behind his back.

After a moment of stunned silence, he smiled, turned around, and walked back to the center of the arena.

He reached out and lifted Chen Ping's right hand.

"The thirty-seventh match!"

"Chen Ping wins!"

The audience erupted in cheers.

"Is it really that easy to reach the peak of the Yuan Gang realm and achieve the Hua Jin realm?"

"He didn't even draw his weapon!"

"That guy was wearing armor, and you just slapped him away?"

"The armor is all shattered! Look, there are even a few pieces lying on the arena!"

A cacophony of voices rose and fell.

Front row of the VIP area.

Cui Qingwei's mouth was open, and he couldn't close it for a long time.

He turned to look at Cui Qingyi, pointed to the arena, then to Xue Yuanlang lying in the distance. His lips moved several times before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.

You say three moves, I'll say ten.

He swallowed hard.

"And then he slapped me."

Cui Qingyi didn't look at him; her gaze remained fixed on Chen Ping, never wavering from the moment he struck out with his palm.

Her lips twitched slightly, it was hard to tell whether she was smiling or thinking about something.

After a long pause, she said softly.

"interesting."

A cacophony of voices rose and fell.

Right side of the waiting area.

The Xue family members looked ashen-faced.

Xue Fengsheng was stunned for a moment, then turned to look at Xiao Shan beside him, his voice very low.

"How many moves did Yuen Long escape from your hands yesterday?"

Xiao Shan pondered for a moment before speaking.

"Four moves."

Xue Fengsheng swallowed hard as he looked at Xue Yuanlang, who lay outside the arena with his armor shattered.

"What kind of martial art is that? How could it shatter such a precious armor?"

Xiao Shan shook his head, his gaze fixed intently on Chen Ping's back on the platform.

"It's not martial arts."

He paused for a moment.

"It is pure power."

Xue Fengsheng's face paled even more.

At the far end of the waiting area, Wang Zhaoyao sat with his eyes closed, as if he hadn't seen anything.

But his hands, resting on his knees, clenched tightly.

Chen Ping stepped down from the ring, returned to the waiting area, and sat back down in his seat.

Close your eyes.

It was as if nothing had happened.

......

in the audience.

The front row of the VIP section.

Master Fushan opened his eyes at some point.

His gaze passed through the crowd and landed on the young man in black sitting with his eyes closed in the waiting area, lingering for a few moments.

Then, he took a folded piece of paper from his sleeve, unfolded it, and laid it on his knees.

The paper was already covered with writing, all of which were the names of the students from today's competition and brief annotations.

He picked up his pen and wrote two words in the blank space at the bottom.

Chen Ping.

The pen paused for a moment.

Then, eight characters were added after the name.

He possesses immense natural strength and remarkable comprehension.

He looked at the eight characters, his lips twitched slightly, then he folded the paper and put it back in his sleeve.

I closed my eyes again and leaned back in my chair.

It looks like she's fallen asleep again.