Chapter Fifty-Three: A Friendly Duel

The training grounds of the Six Rivers Academy were vast—so vast, in fact, that it seemed almost excessive. The leveled, open expanse stretched for dozens of acres, reaching all the way to the base of the distant mountains. Even with three to five hundred people scattered across the field, there was ample room for everyone to practice their martial arts without fear of accidental collisions.

When Fang Xiao followed Han Dahuo into the grounds, more than a hundred martial students were already training. The air was filled with deep, forceful shouts and the whistling sound of fists and feet slicing through the air, weaving together a unique melody that made one's blood surge with excitement.

Han Dahuo called out to Fang Xiao, and the two of them each claimed a spot before beginning their own training. Naturally, Fang Xiao practiced the Demon-Subduing Fist. After only two moves, sweat beaded across his body, though he had just started to warm up. He could feel a gentle warmth rising from his stomach, quickly spreading into his organs and reaching every limb and bone. Vital energy seemed to spring forth endlessly within him.

Fang Xiao understood that this was the effect of the food he had eaten earlier in the kitchen, now finally manifesting its benefit. He focused his mind, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his training, soon losing himself in the rhythm of his punches and kicks. Once he finished a set of the fierce and powerful Demon-Subduing Fist, his clothes were soaked through. Yet he felt no fatigue; rather, he was invigorated, his body brimming with inexhaustible strength.

To his delight, his mastery of the Demon-Subduing Fist had increased by another point. Because he had not killed any monsters recently, the experience points in his Crimson Sun Manual were lacking, and his fist technique had been stuck at the proficient level. But through diligent practice, he had managed to make progress nonetheless—a cause for celebration.

He adjusted his breathing and glanced at Han Dahuo, who was practicing nearby. Unlike most students on the field, this burly, tower-like man was not moving through martial forms but instead stood rooted in a bow stance, motionless beneath the blazing sun. Yet, on closer inspection, one could see his chest, arms, and thighs trembling with tightly coiled muscle, vibrating at a tremendous frequency. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, falling to the ground and shattering.

What technique is that? Fang Xiao couldn't help but be curious. It was impolite to stare, though, so he was about to look away when Han Dahuo suddenly exhaled a long, turbid breath and relaxed his posture. Noticing Fang Xiao, he grinned and said, "Junior, shall we have a bout?"

Fang Xiao's interest was piqued at once. "How do we do it?"

He had fought with others several times before, but had never sparred in this way.

Han Dahuo came over and explained, "It's simple, I'll teach you." Among the academy's disciples, friendly sparring was common, and there were various ways to do it. Han Dahuo taught Fang Xiao the simplest: pushing palms. The two stood face to face, each pressing a single palm against the other, applying force. Whoever moved their feet or fell lost.

Fang Xiao understood immediately—he had played this game with classmates before! But sparring between martial artists was not child's play. Han Dahuo not only explained the rules but also gave detailed instructions on techniques and taboos for channeling and releasing force, speaking with particular earnestness out of concern that Fang Xiao might not grasp it.

Finally, he said, "Junior Fang, since it's your first time, I'll use my left hand against your right."

Fang Xiao realized Han Dahuo was deliberately giving him an advantage. Competitive spirit flared within him, and he nodded. "Alright."

"Let's begin."

The two took their positions about four feet apart. Fang Xiao naturally settled into the Dragon-Tiger stance, raising his right arm to meet Han Dahuo's palm.

"Be careful, junior," Han Dahuo warned, his left arm's muscles swelling instantly.

Without hesitation, Fang Xiao summoned the Dragon-Tiger energy within him. There was a crisp crack from his tailbone, and a rush of heat surged up his spine into his arm.

The next moment, Han Dahuo, confident in his strength, suddenly felt an overwhelming force surging toward him like a breaking wave. Before he could react, his body was sent flying, landing heavily seven or eight steps away with a thunderous crash.

Many students nearby were startled, turning their astonished gazes toward them.

Fang Xiao was surprised as well and hurried over. "Senior, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Han Dahuo quickly jumped up, grimacing. "I just wasn't ready."

In truth, he had only used thirty percent of his strength at first, afraid of injuring Fang Xiao. He hadn't expected Fang Xiao to "ignore martial virtue" and send him flying! Of course, Han Dahuo held no resentment—if anything, he blamed his own slow reaction.

He emphasized, "I mainly practice Iron Shirt and Golden Bell Cover—I'm tough as nails!"

Despite his words, Han Dahuo felt something was off, though he couldn't say what. He decided not to dwell on it.

Seeing Han Dahuo was unharmed, Fang Xiao relaxed. He had only used thirty percent of his strength, not wanting to hurt his fellow disciple. Still, he had managed to send his burly senior flying.

Fang Xiao assumed he must have made a mistake due to inexperience with palm pushing and felt a bit guilty. Fortunately, Han Dahuo's Iron Shirt and Golden Bell Cover seemed formidable, and there was no harm done, so he let it go.

Having learned his lesson, Han Dahuo no longer used his left hand for the rematch. This time, both faced off with their right hands.

"Junior!" Han Dahuo shouted, "Again!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than his massive figure was sent flying once more, landing four or five steps away. This time, having anticipated the impact, he used the momentum to bounce up the instant his back hit the ground.

He stood there, stunned and motionless.

Heaven bear witness—Han Dahuo had just raised his force to seventy percent, yet the power that rebounded from Fang Xiao's palm was enough to send him flying again. Years of training in Iron Shirt and Golden Bell Cover had not helped him withstand it; if anything, he was only thrown a shorter distance this time.

"Senior?" Fang Xiao hurried over.

Han Dahuo started as if waking from a dream. His leopard-like eyes were filled with disbelief as he asked excitedly, "Junior, what technique are you practicing?"

"Dragon-Tiger Strength," Fang Xiao replied without hesitation. "So far, I've only learned the Dragon-Tiger Stance and the Demon-Subduing Fist."

He saw no reason to hide it—it was as casual as saying whether one studied mathematics or literature.

"Dragon-Tiger Stance?" Han Dahuo's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. "I've practiced that too—is it really that powerful?"

At last, the burly man understood: it wasn't carelessness that cost him the match, but that Fang Xiao's strength far surpassed his own! But—Dragon-Tiger Stance? Was that possible? It couldn't be. Absolutely impossible!