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

Xu Qing stood at the edge of the platform, her heels no more than three inches from the edge.

The wind blew by, making the hem of his clothes flutter.

He looked at Cheng Hong, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, the white steam dissipating in an instant.

"You're right," Xu Qing said calmly. "I haven't practiced martial arts for long enough."

Cheng Hong was taken aback, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"But this amount of time is enough to defeat you."

Xu Qing's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a thunderclap to Cheng Hong.

Cheng Hong is the number one Ming Jin master at Benlei Martial Arts School! No! He's the number one Ming Jin master in Qinghe County! A genius who has been holding back the An Jin threshold for three months! He's always the one who looks down on others; no one dares to look down on him.

But today, a fisherman's son who has been practicing martial arts for less than three months stood on the stage and said to him, "This amount of time is enough to defeat you."

Cheng Hong's eyes changed completely. A surge of uncontrollable anger, stemming from a wound to his pride, suddenly erupted.

This was the first time he had ever been looked down upon since he started practicing martial arts, and the first time he had ever tasted what ridicule felt like.

He moved.

He wanted to make Xu Qing realize the difference in their abilities and make her regret saying those words.

But Xu Qing was faster than him.

It wasn't a counterattack, it was an aggressive offensive. After more than fifty moves, Xu Qing had thoroughly figured out Cheng Hong's fighting style.

A powerful punch aimed straight at Cheng Hong's face, the force of which was immense and carried tenfold. A visible ripple appeared in the air as it was thrown.

Cheng Hong dodged to the side, but Xu Qing's second punch arrived.

The cannon punch strikes upwards, directly hitting the ribs.

That punch was both fast and cunning.

Cheng Hong had no time to dodge and could only raise his arm to block.

With a muffled thud, Cheng Hong felt as if his arm was about to break; it was both painful and numb. If it weren't for the force protecting him, that punch would have truly broken his bones.

He was so shocked that he took a step back, his heel slamming onto the wooden board with a thud.

His expression changed.

Where did Xu Qing get such powerful strength? Layer upon layer, like ocean waves, even stronger than his own strength. Was the person he had just forced to the edge of the stage the same person pressing forward now?

The reversal came too quickly.

Xu Qing's punches were like a flood bursting its banks, unstoppable once they began.

The five elements fist techniques—splitting fist, collapsing fist, drilling fist, cannon fist, and horizontal fist—are no longer just five elements fist techniques in his hands. Instead, they are like a ferocious beast that has been locked up for too long, finally breaking free of its cage.

Each punch carried immense force, each punch seemed designed to shatter Cheng Hong's boxing stance.

Cheng Hong hardened his heart, gritted his teeth, steadied his stance, and met the attack head-on with a Thunderclap Fist. He couldn't retreat; he was the number one Ming Jin practitioner in Qinghe County. Retreating would be admitting defeat.

"Bang!"

The two fists collided, the sound as dull as two iron plates slamming together.

Xu Qing took a step back, but Cheng Hong took three steps back in quick succession.

In a head-on confrontation, Cheng Hong was completely defeated.

His punch was deflected, his arm went numb, his thumb split open, and blood trickled down between his fingers. He stared at Xu Qing, his eyes filled with disbelief. No martial artist of the same level had ever been able to withstand his Thunderclap Fist head-on.

Today, not only were we taken down, but we were also scattered.

Before he could finish his shock, Xu Qing stepped forward and delivered another powerful punch.

Cheng Hong felt a chill run down his spine and dared not answer the call again.

His hands were still trembling, and blood was still flowing from the mouth of his hand. He was afraid.

He desperately tried to dodge, but Xu Qing's fists seemed to have eyes, relentlessly striking him. One punch, two punches, three punches...

Cheng Hong was struggling and in a sorry state. His boxing stance began to crumble, his footwork became chaotic, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

On the second floor, Yu Tai stood up.

His hands gripped the edge of the table, his eyes fixed on the stage, his lips trembling. He understood. Cheng Hong was scared, he was in disarray; if the fighting continued, something terrible would happen.

He was about to shout "Stop!" but the word "stop" was stuck in his throat and he hadn't been able to utter it.

On stage, Xu Qing's eyes suddenly lit up. He saw that in the instant Cheng Hong's footwork became disordered, a gap the size of a fist was revealed under his left rib.

It only lasted for a moment, less than half a breath.

enough.

Xu Qing feinted with a cannon punch, and Cheng Hong instinctively raised his arm to block. But Xu Qing's fist changed direction in mid-air, turning a chopping punch into a collapsing punch, a collapsing punch into a drilling punch, and a drilling punch into a horizontal punch.

Five punches combined into one, unleashed in a single blow.

This punch, carrying all his strength, slammed into Cheng Hong's back.

"Click—"

The sound wasn't like bones breaking; it was more like a tree trunk being snapped in half—dull, crisp, and irreversible.

Cheng Hong's eyes widened suddenly, his pupils reflecting the terrified faces below the stage.

His body shot out like a bent bow, crashing straight down onto the stage, face down, lying motionless on the pine plank.

His back was dented, from his shoulder blades to his waist, as if someone had stomped on him hard from the middle.

The training ground fell silent once again, as if dead.

"Stop!" Yu Tai's voice boomed from the second floor, a hoarse roar, "Cheng Hong—!"

He jumped up, the chair tipping backward with a loud crash. He didn't bother to help him up; his face was contorted, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Lin Hanshan sat in a chair, holding a teacup in his hand. The cup was tilted, and tea dripped down his wrist and onto his clothes, but he was completely unaware.

His face was expressionless. But a storm was brewing in his eyes.

Su Zhengyuan's eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Zhao Yan's eyes reddened, and he lowered his head to wipe them with his sleeve.

Shi Wanchun gave a thumbs-up again, this time for a long time, so long that people around him couldn't help but glance at him. The master of Jingtao Martial Arts School also nodded, a smile on his lips.

Officer Qi stood by the platform, mouth agape, eyes wide, looking like a wooden stake.

Xu Qing's punch was too fast; he didn't even have time to react.

Ning Yun stood below the stage, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

Chen Wang forgot the pain in his chest and muttered, "Junior Brother Xu... won..."

Wu Mingyuan stood at the back of the crowd, his face as white as paper. His lips were trembling, his fingers were shaking, and his legs were quivering.

The young noblemen at the table on the second floor stared wide-eyed, not one of them uttering a sound.

At the other table, the heads of the second branches of each family and the heads of the smaller clans also seemed frozen in place, each with their eyes wide open and motionless.

Wu Baekhyun's expression was more complex than everyone else's.

Shock and regret swirled together within him. He'd already started to regret it when Xu Qing crippled Li Chong with a single punch. Now, Cheng Hong was also down. He was filled with remorse. How could he have been so blinded by greed, refusing to spend those few dollars?

Most of the people on the second floor had heard of Cheng Hong's reputation.

Cheng Hong, who was destined to become famous in Qinghe County, is now lying on the stage like a lump of mud.

Li Chong is finished. Cheng Hong is finished too. The reputation of Benlei Martial Arts School has been utterly tarnished.

Everyone present was astonished.

All eyes were on Xu Qing.

Lu Chuan was no exception.

He thought Xu Qing could at most fight Cheng Hong to a draw, but he didn't expect that when Xu Qing really started to fight back, Cheng Hong didn't even have a chance to fight back.

He put down his teacup and then clapped his hands.

"Slap, slap, slap."

Three sounds, neither too loud nor too soft, neither too fast nor too slow, were exceptionally clear in the deathly silent training ground.

Lu Chuan smiled slightly and uttered two words calmly: "Wonderful."

No need for further words. Two words are enough.

Xu Qing stood on the stage, slightly out of breath.

From the moment they started fighting, both of them went all out. Cheng Hong wanted to cripple him, so naturally he wouldn't hold back.

Now that Cheng Hong is ruined, it's his own fault. He feels no remorse whatsoever.

Xu Qing slowly withdrew his fist and straightened his body. His breathing was still rapid, but as he stood there, his back was as thick and heavy as a mountain.

He turned around, his gaze sweeping from the stage to the audience. The last disciple of the Benlei Martial Arts School immediately lowered his head when he looked at him.

My gaze shifted to Feiyun Martial Arts School, then to Changfeng Martial Arts School. At each school, the disciples either lowered their heads, turned their faces away, or stepped back.

No one dared to meet his gaze.

He stood on the stage, without saying a word. But that silence carried more weight than any words could.

Then he turned around and walked off the stage.