Breaking Limits in Martial Arts: Grinding Your Way to Becoming a Martial Saint in a Chaotic Era

The drums sounded again. The competition began.

A young man dressed in a silver outfit jumped onto the stage. The word "Ben Lei" was embroidered on his chest, with silver thread outlining it, and it shone brightly in the sunlight.

He was about seventeen or eighteen years old, with sharp eyebrows and eyes, and slightly bulging temples. The moment he stood on the stage, he looked like a knife just drawn from its sheath.

He cupped his hands in a clean and efficient gesture towards the audience, but his gaze deliberately swept over the disciples of the Zhao, Shi, and Jingtao martial arts schools, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"Li Chong from Benlei Martial Arts School. Please enlighten me."

His voice was so loud that everyone in Tingfeng Tower could hear it.

People in the audience started whispering: "Li Chong, the prized student of Master Yu of Benlei Martial Arts School, is said to be on track to break through to the Dark Force level this year."

"Tsk tsk, this one's not easy to deal with."

"Of course he's not easy to deal with. In my opinion, among the eighteen people participating in the competition today, there are few who are stronger than him." The person who said this lowered his voice, but his tone was full of certainty.

"..."

Xu Qing looked at Li Chong, his gaze shifting slightly. He had recognized Li Chong even before Li Chong came on stage.

That day at Blackwater Bay, he and Shopkeeper Qian came together to buy a precious fish. Shopkeeper Qian was in front, and he was a step behind, so he was a step too slow and Shopkeeper Qian bought the golden-scaled carp.

At that time, Xu Qing didn't even have the right to look him in the eye; he could only lower his head and listen to him talk about the grandeur and prestige of the Benlei Martial Arts School.

But at this moment, the two may stand on the same stage and become rivals.

Xu Qing didn't rush to go on stage; he didn't want to be the first to speak out.

At the main table on the second floor, County Magistrate Lin Hanshan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and glanced at Yu Tai with a smile that was neither too deep nor too shallow, just right: "Master Yu, your disciple is quite good."

Yu Tai's face lit up with a smile, but he still said the same polite words: "You flatter me, sir. This child is just hardworking, but his talent is just average." He was modest, but he couldn't hide the pride in his eyes, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes squeezed out one by one.

County Magistrate Su Zhengyuan sat to one side, a faint smile always on his face. He picked up his teacup, slowly blew on the floating leaves, and said nothing.

The owner of Jingtao Martial Arts School is surnamed Miao. He is a lean man in his fifties with a mustache.

He glanced at Yu Tai's smug face, feeling annoyed, and winked at his disciple at another table. The disciple understood and gestured to the audience below.

On the training ground, a young man dressed in a blue outfit jumped onto the stage, with the words "Surging Waves" embroidered on his chest, the blue lines like waves.

He was strong and muscular, with a steady gaze. He cupped his hands in greeting to Li Chong: "Jingtao Martial Arts School, Zhao Heng. Please."

Li Chong glanced at him, his lips curling into a slight sneer.

Zhao Heng snorted coldly. The two didn't see eye to eye and neither was willing to give in to the other.

Li Chongxian made a move.

He took a step forward, and the entire tabletop seemed to be struck by a hammer, producing a dull thud. His right fist shot out from his waist, without any fancy moves or probing, heading straight for Zhao Heng's chest.

The fist whistled through the air with a short, sharp whistle—the sound of the air being compressed due to the speed of the punch.

Thunderclap Fist is all about speed. Not the speed of fancy moves, but the speed of lightning striking down. By the time you hear the thunder, you've already been struck.

Zhao Heng did not take the hit head-on.

He sidestepped, his left palm held horizontally in front of his chest, while his right palm surged out like a wave, its edge sliding past Li Chong's forearm, dissipating most of the force. At the same time, he released the force of his fist with a flick of his palm.

The essence of the Surging Waves Palm technique is "continuity." Like ocean waves, one after another, you can block the first wave, but not the second. And even if you block the second wave, there will be a third and a fourth.

Li Chong felt a tingling, numb sensation in his forearm, as if he had been whipped by the tail of a large fish. The tingling sensation traveled from his wrist all the way to his shoulder. He immediately withdrew his fist, took a half step back, lowered his left elbow to protect his ribs, and threw out his right fist again!

This time it was even faster; the fist traced an almost invisible arc in the air, heading straight for Zhao Heng's face.

Zhao Heng tilted his head back to dodge, the wind from the punch brushing past the tip of his nose, making it feel cold. Without stopping, he circled around Li Chong for a short distance, his palms striking out alternately, each strike faster than the last, the palm shadows layered upon each other, like the waves of a rising tide, one wave crashing over the other, making it hard to breathe.

Li Chong was forced back three steps by the blow, his heels hitting the platform with a "thump, thump, thump" sound.

He gritted his teeth, crossed his arms to block, and took four blows from Zhao Heng. Each blow felt like being struck by a wooden board, dull and heavy. By the time the fourth blow landed, Li Chong's arm was already trembling slightly.

The disciples of Benlei Martial Arts School below the stage became anxious and shouted at the top of their lungs, "Senior Brother Li! Hold on!" Their voices were sharp and loud.

On the second floor, Yu Tai's smile remained unchanged; in fact, the curve of his lips widened slightly. He picked up his teacup, slowly blew on it, and took a sip.

Li Chong did not panic.

The moment the fifth palm strike came, he suddenly crouched down, his whole body pressing down like a spring, his knees almost touching the table. Then he sprang up, his right fist shooting out diagonally from below, heading straight for Zhao Heng's chin.

This punch is called "Thunder Rise from the Ground," one of the killing moves in the Thunderclap Fist, designed to catch people off guard.

Zhao Heng's pupils contracted sharply, and he abruptly withdrew his palm, bending backward until his entire body was almost arched. The wind from the punch grazed half an inch above the tip of his nose, causing the stray hairs on his forehead to fly up.

He narrowly avoided it, then executed a backflip to create distance.

The two stood still again.

Neither of them gained an advantage. Li Chong had several red handprints on his arm, and Zhao Heng had a red mark on his forehead from the force of the punch.

This time, neither of them rushed to attack. Li Chong slowly approached, his fist half-clenched and half-loose, as if gathering strength. Zhao Heng slightly turned his body, his palms facing outwards, one in front of the other, like two waves that could crash down at any moment and engulf anyone.

Li Chongxian threw the first punch.

Another straight punch, but different from the previous one. This punch suddenly changed direction midway through its trajectory, the fist turning and striking Zhao Heng's shoulder at an angle.

Zhao Heng parried with his palm, but Li Chong pulled his fist back and then threw a left punch from another angle.

A variation of the Thunderclap Fist.

Lightning doesn't just strike down; it explodes. A bolt of lightning can split into countless branches in the air, and you never know which direction it will strike you from.

Zhao Heng calmly responded, his palms flying, blocking, deflecting, pushing, and slapping, neutralizing every punch from Li Chong. His palm techniques became increasingly fluid and his movements more and more seamless, like a tide that could envelop, smooth out, and push back any stone that came his way.

Li Chong's punches grew heavier and heavier, each strike accompanied by a deep, piercing sound, like the beating of a drum. Zhao Heng's palms became increasingly dense, their shadows weaving an invisible net that caught Li Chong's fists one by one.

The audience was dazzled and dared not even breathe.

The two fought for over thirty rounds.

Forty rounds.

Fifty rounds.

Li Chong's breathing began to become heavy. The Thunderclap Fist was fierce and powerful, and fierce fist techniques consume the most energy. By now, his punching speed had slowed down slightly compared to the beginning.

Although it was only on the front line, Zhao Heng sensed it.

Zhao Heng's palm suddenly changed. Previously, he had been mainly on the defensive, focusing on deflecting and neutralizing force, but now he suddenly switched from defense to offense.

He slapped out with both palms, each one faster and harder than the last, and his steps quickened as he circled Li Chong in a full circle. The shadows of his palms surged in from all directions, like a tide overflowing a dam, pouring in through every crevice.

Li Chong was forced to retreat step by step, his heels already touching the edge of the stage.

Someone in the audience gasped in surprise.

Li Chong's pupils constricted sharply. He knew that if he took another step back, he would fall off the stage. If he did, he would lose not only a match, but also the reputation of Benlei Martial Arts School, his master's expectations, and his standing among his fellow disciples.

The outcome hinges on this moment.

Zhao Heng also saw an opportunity.

He lunged forward, his right palm brimming with power, striking straight at Li Chong's chest. The blow was swift and heavy, carrying an air of resolute determination!

He was going to slap Li Chong off the stage!

But this one palm strike was too forceful.

Too much means it can't be taken back.

Li Chong's eyes suddenly lit up.

He did not back down.

He charged forward to meet Zhao Heng's palm strike head-on. He didn't take it head-on. He dodged to the side, letting Zhao Heng's palm graz his chest, tearing a hole in his clothes from the force of the blow.

At the same time, his right fist emerged from under his ribs, like a long-dormant thunderbolt, striking Zhao Heng precisely in the side.

That was the opening exposed when Zhao Heng struck.

Left rib. One of the vital points of the Surging Wave Palm technique.

When he struck with his right palm, his left ribs were inevitably wide open. Normally, Zhao Heng would use his left palm to protect them, but this time he used all his strength, and his left palm retreated too far to be withdrawn in time.

The fist landed.

Zhao Heng groaned and staggered two steps to the right, leaving a fist-sized dent in his shirt at the waist. His face turned deathly pale in an instant, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

Before he could even regain his footing, Li Chong's fist came flying at him.

He landed a straight punch squarely on Zhao Heng's chest, causing Zhao Heng to stagger back seven or eight steps, then lose his footing and fall off the stage.

"Thank you for the concession!" Li Chong stood at the edge of the stage, cupped his hands in a gesture of respect to the audience, and wore a victorious smile.

Cheers and applause rose and fell across the training ground.

"Excellent boxing skills!" The guests applauded.

"Well done, Senior Brother Li!" The disciples of Benlei Martial Arts School clapped and cheered.

"Senior Brother Li is amazing!" Disciples from Changfeng Martial Arts School and Feiyun Martial Arts School echoed loudly.

On the other side, the disciples of the Zhao family, Shi family, and Jingtao martial arts schools all looked increasingly grim.