Douluo Continent: Seven Kills Appear, Ten Kills Become God

"Match 173: Bei Chenchen vs. Zhou Yuanhao."

Chen Fei paused for a moment before remembering that "Bei Chen Chen" was his current name.

He walked onto the stage, and a teenager jumped up from the opposite side.

The boy looked to be about ten years old, broad-shouldered and burly, and a full head taller than Chen Fei.

As soon as he stood on the stage, people in the audience cheered.

This young man is named Zhou Yuanhao. His martial spirit is the Copper Hammer, and he has a cultivation level of two rings. He is quite well-known among the candidates in the waiting area.

Although his performance in the first two rounds was not particularly impressive, he has steadily made it to the present thanks to his solid soul power and physical skills.

"Go, Yuanhao!"

"Beat that kid up!"

Zhou Yuanhao waved triumphantly, then looked down at Chen Fei and grinned.

He laughed easily, even with a hint of mockery.

The child opposite was so short that the wooden sword was slung over his back, with the tip sticking out above his shoulder. He looked like a kid who had stolen an adult's weapon to play with.

"Little one, you should go down yourself. Fists and kicks have no eyes; it wouldn't be good if you got hurt."

Chen Fei remained silent.

He took the wooden sword off his back and held it in his hand.

He held the sword horizontally, with the tip pointing diagonally at the ground. He had done this movement countless times, and it was as natural as breathing.

Zhou Yuanhao was taken aback: "You're going to use this?"

That's enough.

The audience laughed.

Some people whistled, while others egged Zhou Yuanhao on to "go easy on him."

In their view, the outcome of this competition was a foregone conclusion.

A six-year-old child facing off against a ten-year-old two-ring Soul Master, whose Martial Soul is a broken wooden sword—isn't this just a stepping stone delivered to his doorstep?

Zhou Yuanhao's face darkened: "Fine, you asked for it."

He shook his arms, his soul power surged, and his sleeves produced a gust of wind.

"start!"

As soon as the referee finished speaking, Zhou Yuanhao's body flashed with light, two yellow soul rings appeared, and he possessed a martial arts weapon.

His martial spirit is a pair of bronze hammers, the hammerheads of which are larger than a human head, and they move with a powerful force when held in the hand.

The surface of the copper hammer was shrouded in a faint yellow halo, clearly having been imbued with soul power. With this strike, even ordinary ironware would be deformed.

"First Soul Skill, Heavy Strike!"

He roared, slammed his right foot on the table, and charged forward like a raging bull.

The copper hammer, accompanied by a whistling sound, smashed into the dust cloud; even before the hammer arrived, the powerful wind had already swept over them.

Someone in the audience exclaimed in alarm—if that hammer blow lands squarely, the six-year-old child will definitely suffer a broken bone.

Dust swirled in the air.

He simply took one step forward.

That one step, no more, no less, caused the copper hammer to graz his back and miss.

The hammer ripped the hem of his shirt, but didn't even touch his skin.

The copper hammer struck the platform with a dull thud, causing the platform to tremble slightly.

Zhou Yuanhao's pupils constricted sharply—it was empty?

He didn't have time to stop, and his body lurched forward due to inertia.

Just then, Chen Fei raised his wooden sword and casually tapped Zhou Yuanhao's right wrist, which was holding a hammer.

That sword strike looked light and effortless, as if it were casually handed over.

But it was precisely this delivery that was extremely tricky.

The sword tip was wedged precisely into the gap of the wrist bone. It didn't exert much force, but it accurately cut off Zhou Yuanhao's power in gripping the hammer.

"what!"

Zhou Yuanhao screamed in agony as his entire right arm went numb and weak instantly. The copper hammer flew out of his hand, twirled twice in the air, and crashed onto the stage with a dull thud.

Several candidates in the front row instinctively shrank back.

The dust continued to fly.

He leaned forward and struck three times with his wooden sword.

Shoulders, elbows, knees.

Each strike landed precisely on the joints, not with great force, but at an extremely tricky angle.

The sword tip touched his shoulder, and Zhou Yuanhao's right arm fell completely to the ground.

The point was on the elbow, and the forearm lost its last bit of strength.

The pressure hit his knee, his right leg buckled, and his entire body collapsed.

Zhou Yuanhao's arms and legs instantly lost their strength, and he collapsed limply onto the stage as if his bones had been removed.

His eyes widened, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he could only make a muffled "ho ho" sound.

Before he could even react to what was happening, his body was already out of his control.

The entire room fell silent.

From the moment it began until Zhou Yuanhao collapsed, only three breaths passed.

Chen Fei sheathed his sword, took a step back, and looked at the referee.

The wooden sword hung back at his side, its tip pointing diagonally to the ground, exactly the same as when he came on stage, as if nothing had happened.

The referee opened his mouth, and it took him a long time to react.

He glanced at Zhou Yuanhao, who was sprawled on the ground, then at Chen Fei, who was expressionless, and finally cleared his throat: "The winner... Bei Chenchen."

The audience gasped in surprise.

"What kind of sword technique is that?"

"It was too fast, I didn't even see it clearly!"

"How did he dodge that hammer blow? The speed of that blow was so fast, even I, standing below the stage, felt I couldn't have dodged it!"

"That kid is really only six years old? Level twelve soul power? You must be kidding me!"

When Zhou Yuanhao was helped off the stage, he was still in a daze.

He couldn't understand how his first soul skill, which was extremely fast and powerful, could be so easily broken by a six-year-old child.

He didn't even see how the wooden sword moved.

He didn't understand, but someone else did.

Under the shade of a tree by the square, an elderly man with white hair was already standing there.

He wore a white robe from Shrek Academy's inner courtyard, his face was thin, and his gaze was sharp as a knife.

None of the other test-takers or teachers noticed him.

Or rather, when he doesn't want anyone to notice him, no one notices him.

His name is Elder Zhuang, a senior teacher at Shrek Academy's Inner Court, and a level 88 Soul Douluo.

He was in charge of the third major health test this year.

He taught in the inner courtyard for over thirty years, witnessing countless geniuses and their downfall.

In the past decade, there have been very few candidates who have been invited to come and see him in person during the second round of the competition.

At this moment, his gaze was fixed on Chen Fei, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Ten-Star Sword... I've never heard of this martial spirit."

"But that swordsmanship... doesn't seem like something a child this age could master."

"This level of precision and timing is impossible to achieve without more than ten years of hard work."

"Six years old? Impossible."

"What is this child's background?"

He murmured, his voice so low that only he could hear it.

He paused, then watched for a while, his gaze sweeping from Chen Fei's stance to the way he gripped the sword, and then to the shift in his center of gravity when he stepped back and sheathed the sword.

Suddenly, he smiled.

"Interesting. This year's freshmen have an interesting little guy."

---

After the second round of assessments, fewer than two hundred people were directly admitted.

The remaining 400-plus people entered the waiting pool, awaiting the third stage.

Chen Fei was assigned to the inner courtyard assessment area.

It was much quieter here than the arena outside, with only a few dozen candidates waiting to be decided, plus a few inner court teachers in white robes.

Old Zhuang sat at the front, holding a list in his hand. The tea in the teacup beside him had gone cold, but he didn't bother to take a sip.

"Bei Chenchen." He read Chen Fei's name, looked up at him, and said, "You were directly admitted and don't need to participate in the third round."

.....