Li Wenrou hurriedly tried to dissuade him, saying:

“Don’t think you can exploit some weakness just because Han Chou just broke through and his foundation isn’t stable! His Blood Qi is extremely deep and solid; his foundation is far beyond that of an ordinary person!”

“Besides, this is an Eight Blood challenging a Nine Blood! The gap between them is far, far greater than that between a One Blood and a Two Blood!”

“Li Wenrou, do you have any right to speak here?”

The smile on Gu Qianqian’s face vanished instantly. Her gaze was like a blade, slicing straight toward him.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was as cold as tempered ice:

“You may be an Outer Sect Steward, but in essence, you’re just an ordinary disciple of the Fist Pavilion. Know your place. If you dare to interrupt again, don’t blame me for punishing you for insubordination!”

“I… Yes…”

Li Wenrou’s lips trembled. Though his face was filled with anxiety and indignation, he didn’t dare say another word—not even half a one.

The Sect’s rules had always been this way: a strict hierarchy, a clear order between superiors and inferiors. A higher rank could crush someone to death.

What’s more, Gu Qianqian was more than two ranks above him.

If Gu Qianqian decided to press the issue, he, Li Wenrou, could only obediently go to the Xing Hall to receive his punishment.

“Chen Cheng, you’d better think this through!”

Gu Qianqian turned back to Chen Cheng, her expression serious as she said:

“This is a duel, not a spar! It’s not too late to back out! Once this starts, you’re responsible for your own life and death!”

“I won’t regret it. Thank you, Senior Sister Gu, for giving me this opportunity.”

Chen Cheng cupped his fists again, then turned to Han Chou and said:

“Senior Brother Han, have your injuries recovered? If you’re still not feeling well, we can fight another day.”

“No need.”

Han Chou swung his arms in front of the crowd, then threw a flurry of phantom punches into the air.

For a moment, a fierce wind howled and waves of air surged. His movements were completely fluid, and he was clearly a great deal faster and more ferocious than before. It was obvious his injuries had fully healed.

He retracted his fists and stood firm. He looked at Chen Cheng and fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his words.

After a moment, he slowly spoke, his tone exceptionally sincere:

“Junior Brother Chen, you are very strong, but I can say with certainty that with the power you’ve shown so far, it is absolutely impossible for you to cross ranks and defeat me.”

“…I know.”

Chen Cheng said calmly:

“In this fight, I’m not seeking victory. I only wish to display my strengths to the best of my ability. Didn’t Senior Sister Gu say it herself earlier? I don’t necessarily have to win.”

“That may be so…”

Han Chou said gravely:

“But have you considered that you could be injured, or even killed!”

“Han Chou! Enough nonsense!”

Gu Qianqian cut in, afraid that if Han Chou kept talking, the little bit of courage Chen Cheng had painstakingly mustered would deflate. It wasn’t impossible that he might shamelessly go back on his word right then and there.

At this thought, she immediately urged them on with a stern expression:

“Chen Cheng earned this opportunity for himself. He’s not an idiot; why would he joke around with his life? Just accept the challenge. If it comes to it, he’ll admit defeat on his own!”

She spoke with righteous conviction, but inwardly she sneered, ‘Admit defeat? After you land a punch, it’s debatable whether he’ll even have a chance to open his mouth to surrender.’

“Yes!”

Han Chou acknowledged the order but didn’t immediately assume a fighting stance.

He lowered his gaze in thought, and when he looked up again, he had an idea:

“Junior Brother Chen, how about this? We’ll decide it with a single punch. If I can’t defeat you with one punch, it’ll be your win!”

“I have no objection.”

Chen Cheng nodded, then looked toward Gu Qianqian. Ultimately, she had the final say.

“Fine. But…”

Gu Qianqian said sternly:

“Han Chou, you must use your full strength! I’ll be watching you! You are absolutely forbidden from holding back in the slightest!”

“Of course.”

Han Chou nodded, his gaze locking onto Chen Cheng.

He slowly drew back his right arm. His five fingers splayed open, then slowly clenched into a fist, his knuckles CRACKING.

The muscles in his arm bulged instantly, blue veins rising like earthworms from his wrist all the way to his elbow. Every fiber was accumulating power, ready to erupt.

An invisible, oppressive aura spread from him, making the surrounding air feel thicker.

To the ordinary Outer Disciples watching from a distance, Han Chou at this moment looked just like a bloodthirsty beast about to pounce on its prey, gathering its strength for the final strike.

Forelimbs slightly bent, shoulder blades raised high, waiting only for that fatal leap.

Seeing this, Gu Qianqian nodded in satisfaction, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.

She took two steps back and crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping over Chen Cheng as if she were examining a piece of porcelain about to be shattered.

On the other side, Li Wenrou’s burly frame was leaned slightly forward, his clay-pot-sized fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He even held his breath.

In the distance, Su Bing, Marsong, and the others didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. They stared at the center of the field without blinking, afraid of missing a single moment.

As for those who had no stake in the matter, they were purely in it for the show, gathering in small groups, whispering and pointing.

Some shook their heads and sighed, not understanding why Chen Cheng was so intent on courting death.

Others were gloating, a cold sneer on their faces as they waited to see the clown get splattered with blood.

Some went even further, starting an impromptu betting pool on the spot. “Come on, come on! Place your bets! Will the kid be injured? Killed? Or will he surrender with his head in his hands?”

The next instant, Han Chou moved.

It wasn’t a sprint, nor was it a lunge, but something akin to a bizarre, level glide.

It was as if he were suddenly yanked by an invisible rope, or as if the ground beneath his feet had suddenly shot forward. In a single instant, his body crossed the several zhang of distance between them, and he appeared before Chen Cheng.

The punch shot out.

There was no sound of wind, no whistling. Not because the punch lacked power, but because it was too fast.

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