Volume Two: Travels in the State of Qi, Chapter 121: I Am Injured

After taking Zhang Heng’s strike, Iron Bull staggered back two steps but managed to stay on the stage.

"Kid, you're too naive. With your measly skills, you can't hurt me," Iron Bull sneered as he stood back up, charging at Zhang Heng once more. In his view, the boy’s constant use of such rapid footwork must be draining his spiritual energy rapidly. He believed that if he kept up the pressure, Zhang Heng would eventually exhaust his reserves, making him an easy target.

He couldn't even budge him? Zhang Heng suddenly smiled. This dense brute was the perfect target to practice his martial arts.

As Iron Bull attacked again, Zhang Heng used his phantom movement technique to flicker behind him. To be fair, this giant was powerful, and Zhang Heng could not afford a direct collision. Once behind him, Zhang Heng focused his will to channel his spiritual energy and gave a light shout: "Return-to-Prettiness Fist!"

Instantly, spiritual energy erupted from his fists, manifesting into over a dozen fist shadows that slammed into Iron Bull’s back in rapid succession. Although Iron Bull was knocked back a few steps, he suffered only minor injuries.

"Kid, don't waste your breath," Iron Bull boasted, twisting his neck arrogantly.

Zhang Heng smiled and muttered something cryptic: "You big oaf. Since I can’t move you, this is exactly what I need."

Iron Bull didn’t understand, but he didn’t dwell on it. As long as Zhang Heng couldn't land a critical blow, he considered himself invincible.

For a long while, the audience watched as Iron Bull relentlessly pursued Zhang Heng. Each time, Zhang Heng evaded him, reappearing behind him to unleash a flurry of martial techniques—fists, kicks, and strikes. Though he couldn’t inflict serious damage, Zhang Heng seemed to enjoy it immensely.

"Kid, if you just keep running, neither of us will win! If you’ve got the guts, face me like a man!" Iron Bull panted, gasping for air. He relied on raw strength, and while each of his attacks used little spiritual energy, the prolonged exertion was taking its toll, and being constantly struck by Zhang Heng had left him frustrated and frantic.

Zhang Heng grinned. The last thing he feared was a battle of spiritual energy; he carried dozens of giant vats of spirit spring water, ensuring his energy was constantly replenished despite his frequent use of martial arts. Having practiced for so long, he was becoming increasingly familiar with these skills.

Zhang Heng’s smile vanished. He stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze cold as he looked at Iron Bull. "Big guy, I’ve had my fun. Get off the stage yourself."

The atmosphere shifted from comical to oppressive. The crowd watched with confusion, sensing that Zhang Heng was no longer joking.

"Finally getting serious, are we?" Qi Sisi whispered to herself.

"Stop posturing, you brat! If you have the skill, knock me off yourself!" Iron Bull roared, burning with rage. He wanted nothing more than to crush Zhang Heng; there was no way he would just walk away.

Zhang Heng gave a dismissive smile. "I gave you a chance, but you didn't value it. Don't blame me for being ruthless."

Before Iron Bull could react, Zhang Heng had closed the distance with blinding speed, extending his left hand casually. Iron Bull laughed, thinking this was the opening he wanted, and poured all his strength into a massive hammer blow aimed at Zhang Heng. The weapon whistled through the air, carrying terrifying force.

"Go roll off the stage, kid!" Iron Bull bellowed, already envisioning Zhang Heng crushed beneath his hammer.

But in the next instant, a massive force collided with him. Iron Bull’s body flew out of control. His internal spiritual energy was shattered, his stomach churned violently, and blood sprayed from his mouth.

Standing on the stage, Zhang Heng looked down at him with disdain and brushed off his left hand. *I had no choice,* he thought to himself. *Normal attacks simply don't work on you.* He had kept the power of his Heart-Protecting Sword at its absolute minimum, yet this remarkably sturdy brute had nearly died on the spot. Still, Zhang Heng was not a soft-hearted person. This was a fighting arena, and one had to be prepared for death upon stepping onto it.

"Don't forget to pay me the five hundred mid-grade spirit stones," Zhang Heng shouted from the stage. The nearly unconscious Iron Bull almost died on the spot from pure rage upon hearing this.

The onlookers were stunned. Even from the sidelines, they could feel the surging sword intent from that single strike—a will that looked down upon the world. The force of that blow was comparable to a cultivator at the eighth or ninth level of the Yuan Dan realm. That this newcomer, "Wu Hen," only at the third level of the Yuan Dan realm, was so terrifying, left them speechless.

Qi Sisi was also shocked. *Is this the capital you have to contend with my royal brother and the others?* Although Zhang Heng had previously manifested his energy to mimic the Fan Xu realm, she knew he could manipulate his aura at will, so she had never truly believed he was a Fan Xu cultivator. But having seen this strike, she knew he could hold his own against the likes of Qi Xuan and Mu Wanqing.

But now was not the time for such thoughts. Zhang Heng had won! She was the biggest winner in the arena, having bet nearly three units of spirit essence. With the odds at 1.1 and after the arena’s commission, she would net a profit of three units of refined spirit essence—more than her total annual income. She had truly struck it rich.

An arena official flew onto the stage. "Congratulations to Wu Hen on his victory. Any other challengers wishing to face him may come forward."

According to the rules, a newcomer had to win at least two bouts to leave with their winnings. Zhang Heng had to fight again. While he had won five hundred spirit stones, anyone who defeated him would claim a thousand. Yet, no one dared to move. It wasn't for a lack of experts—there were many high-level Yuan Dan cultivators and even a dozen Fan Xu practitioners present. They followed the rules: because Zhang Heng had only won one match, only those at the third level of the Yuan Dan realm or lower were eligible to challenge him. After witnessing that last strike, every third-level Yuan Dan cultivator in the room was cowering in the shadows.

Seeing no one come forward, Zhang Heng felt a bit awkward. Suddenly, he clutched his chest, winced, and sat down hurriedly. "I'm injured," he called out weakly. "That Iron Bull was truly terrifying; he managed to震 shock me with his internal force."

The crowd erupted in indignation.

"Kid, I've had enough! Let me up there—I'll teach you a lesson!" a ninth-level Yuan Dan cultivator shouted.

"Your acting is pathetic, boy!"

"You brat, don't let me catch you outside, or I'll beat you to a pulp!"

They were furious at being played for fools. If they weren't in the arena, they would have attacked him on the spot. Even Qi Sisi laughed out loud; Zhang Heng’s performance was hilarious.

Seeing that no one believed him, Zhang Heng stood up with a sigh and said with feigned arrogance, "Since none of you dare to come up, I'll adjust the terms. Anyone below the sixth level of the Yuan Dan realm can challenge me. If you win, my thousand mid-grade spirit stones are yours."

He turned to the manager. "Sir, this doesn't violate the rules, does it?"

"It's fine. If you're willing, even a Fan Xu powerhouse can come up," the man replied coldly, clearly annoyed by Zhang Heng’s posturing.