Start with acting, and you'll achieve immortality!

The whistling wind of the punch rushed towards him, but in Li Ping's slowed-down vision, the trajectory of the originally lightning-fast punch became clearly traceable.

Newfound spiritual energy surged through his meridians. He lightly spun his toes on the half-destroyed wooden plank, slightly shifting his body, and his shoulder sliced ​​into the air following the force of the opponent's punch.

Iron Arm spreads like an iron tower pressing down, its double fists striking in rapid succession—the iron fists are fast, as fast as forging iron, clang clang clang, each punch aimed at vital points.

In the previous ninety-seven moves, he took ninety-seven heavy punches head-on. Each impact made his knuckles numb and his blood surge.

But things are different now.

Li Ping stopped blocking.

He turned to the side, the force of the punch, carrying a scorching heat, brushing past his ear; he tilted his head, the force of the second punch making his scalp ache; he slid, the third punch narrowly missing his ribs.

Every punch was just an inch off.

Not an inch more, not an inch less

The spiritual energy after the breakthrough surged rapidly and steadily through the meridians, making the fist strikes appear so slow that it was as if one could see the landing point in advance.

But Li Ping knew in his heart that—having just broken through, his Qi Sea was still hot, and his spiritual power was unstable; it wouldn't be worthwhile to fight head-on.

To confront them head-on at this point would be utterly foolish.

He chose to look

Iron-Armed Zhang fought with increasing frantic speed, his punches becoming even faster: "Are you a rat? What are you dodging for!"

"What's the rush?" Li Ping said. "How many more times can your arms shake?"

Iron-Armed Zhang's breathing was already disordered.

After ninety-seven moves, the muscles in his arms were spasming uncontrollably, his joints were cracking, and he was barely holding on by sheer willpower.

Now his breath was almost gone—he suddenly stopped, clenched his fists together, and with his last bit of strength, shouted: "Die!"

With both arms extended simultaneously, the fists slammed shut like two heavy iron doors, creating a piercing whistling sound – a desperate gamble.

Li Ping did not dodge.

He formed a hand seal with his right hand, and a flash of earthy yellow spiritual light appeared at his fingertips—the Myriad Manifestations Array Classic, Trapping Array.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Iron Arm Zhang's feet sank, his ankles sinking into the earth, and his body froze—the force of his simultaneous double-arm punches was partially disrupted, and he felt as if he were nailed to the ground.

Li Ping seized the opportunity to close the distance, his elbow striking Iron Arm Zhang's chest like a short spear.

With a muffled thud, the violent force penetrated his body, causing Iron Arm Zhang to stiffen. A sweet, metallic taste rose in his throat, and his face instantly turned ashen.

Iron Arm Zhang grunted and knelt on one knee.

Li Ping didn't stop; his right palm followed, stopping three inches in front of Li Ping's throat.

No one was left behind

Outside the half-ruined fence of the arena, the once noisy stands fell into a deathly silence.

The gamblers in the front row craned their necks, oblivious to the sweat forming on their clenched silver notes, countless eyes fixed on the hovering hand.

"Hands feel heavy, lower body feels too unstable."

Li Ping said

Iron-Armed Zhang knelt on one knee in the pit, his chest heaving, staring at the stopped hand-blade before him.

He remained silent for a long time before slowly opening his fists.

"...We lost."

The moment those two words were uttered, a wave of cheers erupted from the stands, countless people abruptly standing up, their teacups and coins clattering against the wooden planks.

"We won!"

"Gold level! Jiangning has reached the Gold level!"

Iron-Armed Zhang knelt on the ground, looked up at Li Ping, and said, "That earth energy just now—"

"All Things Trapped in a Formation"

Li Ping withdrew his hand. "With your lower body so weak, who else should I throw if not you?"

Iron Arm Zhang was stunned for a moment, then smiled wryly, propped himself up on his knees, and stood up: "...Good eye."

He took two steps back, about to concede defeat and leave—

Su Wan's tense knuckles slowly relaxed, and the bronze sword sheath slid an inch from her palm.

She didn't push her way into the crowd, only glancing at the stage through the throng of heads before clutching the sword to her chest and turning to walk into the shadows of the aisle.

In a corner of the Iron Fist Gang's stands, several leaders had different expressions.

The steward squeezed through the crowd to hand Iron-Armed Zhang a handkerchief, which Iron-Armed Zhang took and wiped his face without saying a word.

The door to the private room was pushed open from the inside.

A figure emerged, around fifty years old, with a square face, a short beard, and a black brocade robe. His cultivation level was unreadable.

Those hands—with their thick knuckles and calloused palms—were the result of decades of martial arts training.

Snap, snap, snap

He stood on the steps of the private room, clapping his hands slowly and deliberately, the large knuckles striking each other with a dull, rhythmic sound.

"Using the Myriad Manifestations Formation during the Qi Refining stage, Lord Li, you have quite the skill."

The voice wasn't loud, but it silenced all the gamblers in the room.

"Iron Fist Gang, He Wanjun"

He introduced himself, saying, "I can handle a gold-level venue, but I wonder if I can hold my own at a lower-level one."

Li Ping looked at him: "Chief He, itching for a fight?"

"No need for the Jade-grade," He Wanjun said, stepping down the steps and standing with his hands behind his back. "The Earth-grade Xuan Stone Platform is for Lord Li."

The audience erupted again.

"Prefecture-level city?!"

"The gang leader himself is getting involved?"

Li Ping didn't answer, but just looked at the Iron Fist Gang leader and suddenly asked, "Where's the tea?"

He Wanjun was taken aback: "Lord Li has quite the appetite. You haven't even swallowed the gold-grade tea yet, and you're already in a hurry to ask for tea?"

"Back when we were at the Silver level, the gang leader didn't invite us—" Li Ping wiggled his knuckles, "Now that we've passed the Gold level, this tea won't taste good if it gets cold."

He Wanjun looked at him for a while, then suddenly laughed heartily: "There's plenty of tea, but I'm afraid the tea table is too hard and might break Lord Li's teeth."

He walked up to Iron-Armed Zhang, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Well done, you didn't lose unjustly."

Iron-Armed Zhang raised his head: "Chief... his formation, the way he stands—"

"No need to say anything more."

He Wanjun said, "For the prefecture-level city, I'll come personally."

"Then it's settled," Li Ping said. "If I lose, tea will be used as a libation; if I win, the Iron Fist Gang's rules will have to be changed."

"Win first, then we'll talk."

He Wanjun turned and walked off the stage. After taking two steps, he turned back and said, "Lord Li, that Earth-grade Xuan Stone hasn't been broken by your shabby methods in a hundred years—"

He paused.

"Not good enough for me."

Li Ping watched him descend the steps, his gaze lingering on his feet—with each step He Wanjun took, his thick-soled cloth shoes landed precisely on the same spot on the same blue brick, even the dust he kicked up seemed to follow a predetermined pattern.

Unbelievably stable

"Whether it works or not," Li Ping said softly, "depends on whether Chief He's bones can withstand a beating more than the Xuan Shi."

As night deepened, the red lanterns under the eaves of the guild hall swayed silently in the cold wind, casting mottled red shadows on the bluestone ground, like pools of dried blood slowly flowing in the darkness.

Qian Duo pressed the ticket stub into the top page of the ledger and looked at it three more times.

Da Niu and Er Hu squatted in the yard, mimicking Iron Arm Zhang's Skyward Cannon move. After the third time, Er Hu laughed first: "The master took ninety-seven moves, and we can't even imitate one move properly."

The old cat tapped its pipe on the threshold, said nothing, and only glanced at the lamp in Li Ping's room.

Inside the room, Li Ping looked at the cup of warm tea that had just been brought in on the table, his fingertips lightly tracing the rim of the cup.

Li Ping blew out the light.

In the darkness, the tea emitted a very faint aroma of bitter almonds. He glanced at the almost imperceptible unusual color in the cup and chuckled softly.

"I'm going out for some fresh air. I'll tell you about the tea; I'll definitely be there to drink it tomorrow."