Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

Chapter 198: This is Comprehension

The inner courtyard of Cangwu, the medical hall.

Xue Yuanlang slowly awoke from his coma.

The first feeling I had when I opened my eyes was pain.

My whole body aches.

The worst pain was in my chest, as if I had been hit by a mountain, and my ribs creaked with every breath.

With my back pressed against the hard wooden bed, the slightest movement sent waves of pain through my flesh and bones.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt as dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand.

A middle-aged steward dressed in Xue family attire sat by the bed. Seeing that he had woken up, he brought him a bowl of water and helped him drink a couple of sips.

The warm, clear water flowed slowly down his parched throat, slightly easing the tearing sensation.

The deacon put down his bowl, looked at him, and spoke.

"How exactly did you lose?"

Xue Yuanlang lay on the bed, staring blankly at the yellowish ceiling.

There was a silence that lasted for several breaths.

The image of that palm strike is still vivid in my mind.

As he thrust out his third sword and was about to unleash his fourth, the slightest gap between them—a gap he himself felt was extremely short—was met with a palm strike from the other person, as if the other had known all along.

He didn't even see how the hand was raised.

I only felt a heaviness in my chest, then the world spun around me, and I knew nothing more.

Xue Yuanlang spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse.

"He seized the opening between my third and fourth sword strikes."

He swallowed hard.

"He must have studied the 'Chasing Wind Sword Technique,' otherwise he wouldn't be so clear about the gap between sword moves."

After hearing this, the steward nodded, asked no further questions, and got up to leave the clinic.

......

The arena, waiting area.

Xue Fengsheng walked back from outside and sat down on his stone bench.

Xiao Shan glanced at him: "How is it? Has Xue Yuanlang woken up?"

Xue Fengsheng nodded, his gaze fixed on the arena.

"He said Chen Ping had studied swordsmanship and seized the gap between the third and fourth moves to deliver that palm strike."

Xiao Shan frowned: "You mean he also took the time to learn the 'Chasing Wind Sword Technique'?"

Wang Zhaoyao did not turn around, his voice calm.

"This is not surprising. His instructor, Qin Ya, is proficient in many weapons. A good teacher produces a good student, and he can do the same."

After listening, Xiao Shan fell into a brief silence.

A moment later, as if he had grasped something, he suddenly asked a question in return.

"But don't forget."

"How long has he been hospitalized?"

He looked at Xue Fengsheng.

"We investigated his past thoroughly; he was a lowly canal worker who carried sandbags at the Qingkou Town dock! He might not even be fully literate!"

Upon hearing this, everyone fell silent.

Chen Ping's expertise lies in swordsmanship. It's understandable that a canal worker who has been in the academy for less than a year would possess such profound swordsmanship skills.

But he could see even the gaps between the sword techniques.

This cannot be explained by diligence alone.

This is comprehension.

Wang Zhaoyao closed his eyes and did not reply.

But his grip on the teacup tightened even more.

......

the next day.

Sixty-four advances to thirty-two.

The number of people in the waiting area was half that of yesterday.

Chen Ping glanced at his left and right sides.

On the left side, where there were originally seventy or eighty people, now there are only about twenty left.

Those with hidden strength have all been eliminated, and most of those with transformation strength have also left. Those who remain are all at the peak of transformation strength, and most of them are the backbone of the Qinglin Society.

On the right side, the number of people from the aristocratic families hadn't decreased much.

There were about forty people, and any one of them could be at least at the peak of the Transformation Realm, with more than twenty Gang Yuan.

Originally, people from poor families outnumbered those from poor families, but now the situation has reversed.

Seventy percent come from prominent families, and threety percent come from humble backgrounds.

Chen Ping's name was drawn in the eleventh round.

His opponent was a young man from a collateral branch of the Xiao family, about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, with a strong build, wielding a long black iron spear, and possessing perfected internal energy and twenty-four cores of internal energy.

Once on the platform, the man thrust out his spear without a word, employing a heavy and powerful style, each thrust heavier than the last.

Chen Ping still did not draw his sword.

He observed the man's fighting style using the method of observing water.

That person's martial arts were only among the lowest tiers of superior martial arts; a little more observation would reveal their flaws.

By observing the water's flow and discerning its patterns, controlling the force and muscles, and moving with divine speed within a small space, one can seize that slightest opportunity in battle.

Between the second and third shots, he raised his hand and struck out with his palm.

The man flew off the stage and landed several hundred paces away.

Two more breaths.

"Chen Ping wins!"

In the waiting area.

Xue Fengsheng looked at the figure standing on the stage with his hands behind his back, his expression changed several times, and his voice was somewhat strained.

"Do you think Qin Ya taught you everything he knew?"

He turned to look at Xiao Shan.

"How does he even have such a thorough understanding of marksmanship?"

Xue Fengsheng himself is a marksman.

The spear technique of the Xiao family's collateral branch opposite them followed a heavy and solid approach, with very small gaps between spear strikes, even smaller than those in sword techniques.

If you want to seize that slight opening, there is only one way: anticipate what move your opponent will make and strike before they do.

But there is a premise to this.

You must be extremely familiar with marksmanship, so familiar that you can tell where your opponent will thrust next just by seeing their initial stance.

Xue Fengsheng gritted his teeth.

"Even I can only see where the gap is, but if we are at the same level, I can't predict what moves my opponent will make in advance just by relying on skill."

He watched Chen Ping's retreating figure as he walked off the stage, his voice unconsciously rising a few decibels.

"How did he, a canal worker who had been hospitalized for less than a year, manage that?"

Xiao Shan didn't reply, his brows furrowed tightly.

Wang Zhaoyao sat in front, this time without closing his eyes, his gaze fixed on Chen Ping.

He spoke, his voice flat.

"A good teacher produces outstanding students."

He paused.

"But he's only been in the hospital for less than a year, and he's a canal worker."

The group's discussion grew louder, and the remaining scions of prominent families behind them heard it.

Each of them had a somber expression.

How much more is he hiding?

......

Chen Ping returned to the waiting area and sat down.

He looked to his left and right, and silently did some calculations in his mind.

Only about twenty people remained from the poor family; all those with hidden strength were eliminated, and those who remained were all at the peak of transformation strength.

There were about forty people from the aristocratic family, and any one of them could be at least at the peak of the Transformation Realm.

The gap is still too large.

It's not a difference in individual ability, but a difference in foundation.

The scions of aristocratic families learn martial arts from a young age, receiving guidance from renowned masters and abundant resources, resulting in excellent skills.

Most students from poor families are self-taught, relying on talent and hard work to get to where they are today. However, their foundation is not as solid as that of those from established families, and their skills are not as refined. In such a high-intensity elimination competition, the gap is magnified infinitely.

Thirty-two into sixteen.

One match after another, they drew lots; one match after another, they fought.

Zhang Tingwan won a match against a scion of a powerful family who had reached the peak of the Transformation Realm. After more than ten moves, she narrowly won by relying on the suppressive power of her archery skills and Yuan Gang cultivation. However, her left arm was slashed and wrapped in bandages, and her face turned pale.

Zhou Ji also won. His axe technique was powerful and sweeping, forcefully knocking his opponent out of the ring. He himself took two punches, but he grinned.

Zhai Jing won; her Autumn Water Sword Technique was clean and efficient, forcing her opponent to admit defeat in just a few moves.

Fu Ci won; his marksmanship was sharp, ending the battle with just one shot.

The number of bamboo sticks in the divination tube is decreasing.

The burly instructor reached into the tube and pulled out two sticks.

Unfold.

"Chen Ping versus Wang Yanqiu."

On the right side of the waiting area, Wang Zhaoyao opened his eyes.

Behind him, a young man in his early twenties stood up.

His face resembled Wang Zhaoyao's somewhat, but he lacked that innate arrogance, and his brows showed more composure.

Wang Zhaoyao's cousin, a direct descendant of the Wang family, is at the first level of Yuan Gang cultivation.

Wang Zhaoyao turned to look at him, then spoke in a flat voice.

"You are Yuan Gang, so you may not be able to beat him. But if you go up, just do your best and do your best. There's no need to fight to the death."

Before he could finish speaking, Xue Fengsheng chimed in, "We must go all out. You're the first Yuan Gang martial artist to encounter him. Forcing him to reveal 30% of his true abilities will be enough."

Wang Yanqiu stood there, unsure of whose advice to take, his gaze shifting between Wang Zhaoyao and Xue Fengsheng.

Wang Zhaoyao didn't look at him again, and said indifferently, "Go."

No explanation was given.

Wang Yanqiu steadied himself, looked at Chen Ping's towering figure as he got up and walked towards the arena, and took a deep breath.

"I am confident that I can force him to reveal at least 50% of his true abilities in this arena."

After saying that, he strode towards the arena.

......

in the audience.

The atmosphere suddenly changed.

The previous matches were mostly duels between those at the Transformation Realm. Although they were exciting, to the sect elders and veterans of the martial arts world in the VIP area, they looked like children playing house.

But this one is different.

Yuan Gang versus Yuan Gang.

In the VIP area, a richly dressed veteran of the martial arts world sat up straight, his interest piqued, and said to a short-haired middle-aged man beside him, "Finally, we're seeing Yuan Gang versus Yuan Gang."

He stroked his beard, his gaze fixed on the ring.

"What weapon do you think this skilled fighter with the broken military spear is using?"

The short-haired middle-aged man thought for a moment: "Po Jun Spear is famous for its spear techniques, so his disciples must be skilled with spears."

The other person beside him shook his head: "But I heard that although Po Jun Spear is famous for his spear technique, he is proficient in all eighteen weapons. This disciple may not necessarily only use a spear, so it's hard to draw a conclusion."

"That's true, let's wait and see."

In the middle section of the audience, the emotions of ordinary people were ten times higher than those in the VIP section.

This is the first match of this competition between Yuan Gang and Yuan Gang.

It was also the first time that the people in the city had witnessed a battle between Yuan Gang warriors.

Normally, masters of the Transformation Realm are extremely distant figures to them, only heard about from storytellers in restaurants.

Now, two Yuan Gang martial artists stood before them. One was tall and imposing in black, like an iron tower, while the other was as steady as a mountain in brocade robes. Their auras emanated from them, and even the audience dozens of feet away could feel the oppressive aura.

Many people looked on with fervor; some clenched their fists, some craned their necks, and some stood up only to be pulled back by the people behind them.

On the lower floors, the disciples of the city's martial arts schools sat neatly in rows.

The twelve- or thirteen-year-old boys stared wide-eyed at the arena, not daring to breathe.

The martial arts instructors beside them gleamed with excitement and whispered, "Everyone, watch closely! This battle between two Yuan Gang martial artists—if you can learn even a fraction of its essence, you'll stand out and enter Cangwu in the future!"

The boys nodded frantically, their eyes unblinking.

Looking at the two figures on the arena below.