Chapter 51

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Chapter 51: A Fair Fight

Ye Yun took a deep breath and calmly opened his eyes.

Yu Minghong’s gaze remained fixed on Ye Yun. When he noticed the middle-grade spirit stone in Ye Yun’s palm had been nearly drained completely, his eyebrows twitched with shock.

The surprise vanished instantly, replaced by his usual humble smile.

"Thank you, Junior Brother Yu," Ye Yun said while storing the two spirit stones.

"Brother Ye flatters me. Even without full cultivation, I’d still lose to you. This was merely a small gesture," Yu Minghong replied earnestly, admiration coloring his tone.

"I won’t forget this." Ye Yun turned toward the arena.

"Ye Yun! Quit stalling! This final clash was always meant for us—get up here!" Duan Chenfeng barked from the platform, having leapt there moments earlier.

Arrogant and brash, Duan Chenfeng remained undeniably powerful. Were it not for Jun Ruolan and Murong Wuhen, he’d easily rank first among new disciples.

Some might tolerate arrogance if backed by true strength—and among this year’s recruits, none seemed capable of besting him.

Ye Yun frowned slightly before springing onto the platform.

His gaze swept over Duan Chenfeng and the sea of spectators below. Though he’d hoped to reach the finals, he’d known the odds were slim. Every assessment survivor likely hid their true power, waiting to strike when it mattered most.

His suspicions proved correct. Many revealed hidden strengths during the top eight matches.

Then came Murong Wuhen.

Murong Wuhen claimed the fifth stage of body refinement, same as Ye Yun. But within the same cultivation stage, gaps could be vast.

Ye Yun’s spiritual power surpassed most peers in both potency and purity—he doubted even Duan Chenfeng matched him. Yet Murong Wuhen not only equaled him but exceeded him. How else could he perfectly counter Ye Yun’s strikes, annihilating both forces? This required not just immense power but flawless control beyond Ye Yun’s current comprehension.

Here stood a true genius. Murong Wuhen’s potential seemed limitless—destined to rank among Heavenly Sword Sect’s strongest if he continued growing.

Facing such talent shattered Ye Yun’s post-assessment pride, brutally exposing his weakness.

The black-clad youth and white-gowned woman controlling the light… Jun Ruolan’s fleeting appearance during the outer disciple trials… Murong Wuhen’s emergence… These encounters didn’t crush Ye Yun. Instead, they forged new goals to pursue.

"Frogs at the bottom of a well shouldn’t posture so fiercely." Ye Yun met Duan Chenfeng’s stare with unsettling calmness.

"Fascinating. I chose my rival well." Duan Chenfeng’s smirk stayed, but his eyes betrayed complex emotions.

Ye Yun gave him a mild glance. "Begin, Brother Duan. Elder Lan grows impatient."

"True. Let’s finish this and claim our Celestial Techniques."

Duan Chenfeng laughed. White light erupted from his right fist—the replica Great Sun Boxing Gloves materializing. Simultaneously, spiritual radiance bloomed from the folded fan in his left hand, its energy waves matching the gloves’ intensity.

Two spiritual weapons. Royal heritage displayed its advantage over common disciples’ resources.

"Royal treasures indeed! Two such spiritual weapons—how enviable!" murmured spectators.

"These mere low-grade tools?" Duan Chenfeng sneered, swelling with pride. "When I reach Qi refining stage, medium-grade weapons will be mine for the taking!"

Medium-grade spiritual weapons were nothing he couldn’t handle!

Duan Chenfeng’s declaration drew sharp gasps from the crowd. Even Elder Lan’s eyes hardened with intensity.

Medium-grade spiritual weapons held immense value, typically reserved for inner mountain disciples of Tian Zhu Peak. Only a handful of exceptional outer disciples had ever received such rewards over the past century.

Across Tian Zhu Peak, not even purple robe disciples were known to wield spiritual weapons above medium grade.

This bold claim forced everyone to reevaluate Duan Chenfeng. Was the capital’s royal house truly this wasteful? Or did Duan Chenfeng hold extraordinary status within it?

Ye Yun remained impassive, as though medium-grade spiritual weapons meant little to him. His gaze lingered on Duan Chenfeng, catching a flicker of icy resentment beneath the man’s triumphant smirk.

By all logic, Duan Chenfeng should’ve been basking in the shock caused by his outrageous claim – the type to revel in such moments. Yet Ye Yun detected that strange, fleeting bitterness.

Ye Yun’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he evenly stated, “Begin.”

“Fighting barehanded?” Duan Chenfeng’s brow furrowed at Ye Yun’s lack of Obsidian Sword. “That cheap spiritual weapon might’ve boosted your strikes. Why discard it?”

Ye Yun stared blankly. “Concerned for me, Senior Brother Duan?”

“Enough chatter.”

Duan Chenfeng’s eyes slitted, dangerous glints flashing. The replica Great Sun Boxing Gloves roared to life under his surging spiritual power, blazing like captured sunlight.

His raised fist trembled with pent-up force. Though not yet unleashed, even black robe disciples sensed this strike exceeded Qu Yiping’s full-powered One Sword technique.

“Unthinkable strength! How does a new disciple harbor such spiritual power?”

“It’s not just quantity – his cultivation level’s become unreadable!”

“He’s masking it! Is he using concealment techniques mid-battle?”

Murmurs spread through the crowd. This capital-born youth kept astonishing them – spiritual weapons flowing endlessly, Celestial Techniques surely abundant, now even obscured cultivation levels.

BOOM!

White radiance exploded as Duan Chenfeng’s fist rocketed toward Ye Yun’s chest.

Ye Yun stepped forward, fists sheathed in Gentle light. Two counter-punches met the assault head-on.

Their collision lit the arena with violent light and shadow. Neither retreated. Instead, they launched skyward, trading dozens of thunderous blows midair – pure spiritual power against spiritual power, no techniques employed.

Within breaths, they descended, having exchanged over twenty strikes without yielding ground.

As their feet touched stone, the Punch Shadows vanished. They stood locked in tense silence, faces grave.