Douluo Continent: Seven Kills Appear, Ten Kills Become God

Freedom Challenge.

These four words instantly heightened the tension in the training ground.

No sooner had Zhao Tiesheng finished speaking than a burly young man jumped onto the fighting platform.

His name is Zhao Hu. He is twelve years old and one of the oldest students in Class A. He is also much stronger than his peers.

"Who's coming?" Zhao Hu crossed his arms and swept his gaze defiantly across the audience.

After a moment of silence, a tall, thin boy jumped up.

The two exchanged no more than ten moves before the tall, thin boy was knocked off the stage by Zhao Hu's shoulder.

"Next!" Zhao Hu shouted triumphantly.

Another one went up, but he also couldn't last ten moves.

Zhao Hu won three consecutive matches, and his arrogance grew stronger.

His gaze swept across the crowd, finally landing on Chen Fei, a disdainful smile curling at the corner of his lips.

"Hey you with the wooden sword, wanna come up and have a go?"

The dust remained still.

It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I feel it's unnecessary.

Seeing that he didn't respond, Zhao Hu laughed even more smugly: "What? You don't dare? With your small frame, you'd be a free kill to come up here."

People around them laughed along.

Luo Qing frowned and whispered, "This person is so annoying."

Su Ziyuan remained expressionless, only glancing at Chen Fei.

Dust remained motionless.

Zhao Tiesheng stood on the stage, watching this scene without saying a word.

His gaze lingered on Chen Fei for a long time, as if he were waiting for something.

Just then, another person jumped onto the stage.

"I'll do it."

It is Su Ziyuan.

He walked slowly onto the stage, but his steps were remarkably steady.

Zhao Hu looked him up and down, then sneered, "Another skinny chicken."

Su Ziyuan remained silent.

Zhao Tiesheng called for the start.

Just like before, Zhao Hu charged forward, taking advantage of his physical strength.

His martial spirit is an iron-backed bear. After it possesses his body, his muscles bulge, and when he punches, it makes a whooshing sound.

Su Ziyuan sidestepped, his footsteps light, like a fallen leaf being blown by the wind.

Zhao Hu's punch missed, but he turned around and threw another punch.

Su Ziyuan dodged again, but still missed by a hair's breadth.

Three punches, five punches, ten punches.

Zhao Hu's punches became faster and stronger, but he could never touch Su Ziyuan's clothes.

Su Ziyuan didn't even release his martial spirit from beginning to end.

The murmurs from the audience gradually subsided.

Everyone could see that Su Ziyuan was leading him on a tangent.

Zhao Hu noticed it too. He roared and slammed both fists down at the same time, creating a shallow crater in the ground.

But Su Ziyuan was no longer there.

He somehow moved behind Zhao Hu and pointed a finger at the back of Zhao Hu's neck.

Zhao Hu's body stiffened, and he fell forward, landing face-first in the mud.

The entire room fell silent.

Su Ziyuan stopped and turned to leave the stage.

He didn't even glance at Zhao Hu, but walked over to Chen Fei and stood up straight again.

Zhao Tiesheng finally spoke, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger: "Next, who's next?"

Luo Qing's eyes lit up, and she was about to raise her hand when someone beat her to it.

It was a young man dressed in black, with a cold expression. When he walked out of the crowd, people around him unconsciously made way for him.

His name is Leng Feng, and he ranks fifth in Class A.

He didn't go up to the dueling platform, but walked directly to Chen Fei.

"I challenge you."

The sound wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

The training ground fell silent instantly.

All eyes were on Chen Fei.

This six-year-old, who ranked first, defeated Zhou Yuanhao's "genius" with a single sword strike yesterday.

Chen Fei raised his head and looked at Leng Feng.

Leng Feng's eyes were gray, and when he looked at people, they were devoid of warmth, like a cold stone.

"Okay," Chen Fei said.

He stepped onto the dueling platform, holding the wooden sword in his hand.

Leng Feng jumped onto the stage, and the two stood three zhang apart.

Zhao Tiesheng glanced at the two of them and raised his hand: "Begin."

Leng Feng did not rush to make a move.

He stood still, and a flash of light appeared on his body—two yellow spirit rings appeared.

His martial spirit is a pair of short daggers, completely black, with almost no reflection when held in the hand.

The first spirit ring lit up.

Leng Feng's figure suddenly became blurry, as if seen through a layer of mist.

In the next instant, he appeared to Chen Fei's left, his short dagger aimed straight for Chen Fei's throat!

Someone in the audience gasped in surprise.

This strike was swift and ruthless, delivered at a tricky angle, showing absolutely no mercy.

Dust flew to the side, parrying with his wooden sword.

"Ding!"

The wooden sword and the short dagger clashed, producing a crisp sound.

Chen Fei took a step back, but Leng Feng did not stop—his second spirit ring lit up immediately afterward.

His figure blurred again, this time appearing behind Chen Fei, drawing both daggers simultaneously, one stabbing into the back of the heart, the other slashing the back of the neck.

Dust flew away without looking back.

He simply took one step forward.

This step seemed simple, but the timing was just right—the two short daggers grazed his back, missing by less than an inch.

At the same time, he thrust the wooden sword backward, aiming straight for Leng Feng's abdomen.

Leng Feng was forced to retreat, and the first wave of attack was neutralized.

The two faced off again.

Zhao Tiesheng narrowed his eyes in the audience.

Leng Feng's attack speed is extremely fast. Both of his spirit rings are of the type that increase speed and agility. Combined with his short dagger spirit, he takes the path of killing with a single blow.

This type of opponent is the most troublesome—they are ruthless and leave no room for error, often succeeding before the opponent can even react.

But Chen Fei not only reacted, but also accurately judged the landing point of each attack.

This cannot be explained by talent alone.

This is... combat instinct.

Leng Feng clearly realized this as well.

For the first time, his gray eyes flickered with excitement—not fear.

"Interesting," he said softly, twirling the two daggers in his hands.

The first and second spirit rings lit up simultaneously.

Leng Feng's figure completely disappeared—not by becoming invisible, but by moving at an extreme speed.

The only sound in the training ground was the sharp whistling of short daggers cutting through the wind, which rang out simultaneously from all directions.

Chen Fei closed his eyes.

It's not an act, it's instinct.

The power of Tian Shu flowed through his body, and his first soul skill, "Awakening of Killing Intent," was silently activated.

Everything around him became incredibly clear—the direction of the wind, the tremors of the ground, the fluctuations of soul energy in the air.

Furthermore, there was Leng Feng's murderous intent.

Murderous intent cannot be hidden.

Just as Leng Feng's dagger was about to pierce his back, dust flew up.

He didn't dodge, but turned around and swept his wooden sword horizontally.

This sword strike was not fast; in fact, it could be described as very slow.

But the arc it traced blocked all possible attack routes for Leng Feng.

Leng Feng's pupils contracted sharply.

He discovered that no matter which angle he attacked from, he would always run into the wooden sword first.

This is... a prediction?

No, it's not a prediction.

It is suppression.

Use a single sword strike to shut down all possible variations, forcing the opponent into a head-on confrontation.

Leng Feng had no choice but to parry with his two daggers crossed.

"clang!"

This time the collision was much louder than before.

Leng Feng felt a tremendous force coming from the dagger, his arms went numb, and he was forced back three steps.

He steadied himself and looked up at Chen Fei.

Chen Fei stood still, his wooden sword pointing diagonally at the ground, his breathing steady.

He did not pursue them.

"Continue?" Chen Fei asked.

Leng Feng paused for a moment, then sheathed his short dagger.

"No need." He jumped off the stage and left without looking back.

The audience was silent.

Zhao Tiesheng watched Leng Feng's departing figure, then glanced at the six-year-old child on the stage, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Who else?" he asked.

No one answered.

Zhao Hu lowered his head, not daring to look at the stage.

Those freshmen who had been laughing earlier were now pale-faced.

Even Leng Feng lost, who would dare to step up?

Zhao Tiesheng waited a while, and seeing that no one would accept the challenge, he nodded: "Since no one is going up, then that concludes today's assessment. Bei Chenchen—"

He looked at Chen Fei.

"Come with me."

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