By mutual agreement and approval between the two martial arts halls, this contest adopted the most traditional set of rules.
The match followed a best-of-five format, with the victor declared the ultimate winner. There was no time limit per round, and a thirty-minute interval was permitted between bouts for rest and medical treatment. The fighting area was restricted to the hall grounds, with victory determined by knocking down or killing the opponent.
The first two rounds were barehanded combat, while the following two permitted weapons. If the contest remained undecided heading into the final bout, the combatants could choose any method of combat.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Xin Youzhu and Clayton stepped onto the platform. Although neither possessed formal ring-fighting experience, both had engaged in numerous matches and sparring sessions under the observation of senior disciples and peers at their respective halls.
Yet this time was different.
They were fighting before two full-fledged martial artists, and the outcome of their battle could very well determine the future course of both dojos. They were still young, yet the burden placed upon their shoulders was immense, and the pressure was readily imaginable.
Even though both tried to project an air of ease, the cadence of their steps and their bodily tension made their intense nervousness plain to see.
Wenli'er, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly relaxed. He had made extensive preparations prior to coming, anticipating the current situation. Furthermore, he possessed absolute confidence in his disciple. If Clayton could not achieve the desired outcome under these conditions, it would simply prove their strength was insufficient, leaving nothing to complain about.
Chen Chuan was rather unconcerned about winning or losing. While he had stated he would step back and no longer interfere, the truth was that as long as the dojo received an ample infusion of funds, it could keep operating regardless of how poor its reputation might become.
Of course, considering that Ms. Rowena had entrusted the facility to him, he was willing to preserve its standing in passing if possible.
After reviewing all the dojo's disciples yesterday, he had found that Xin Wulang's son was not actually the most outstanding among them. Certain traits of his, however, were exceptionally prominent and perfectly met Chen Chuan's requirements. It was precisely on this basis that he had sent the youth into the ring.
Upon exchanging salutes, the two youths assumed their stances.
Xin Youzhu took the traditional Non-Body style posture—his center of gravity held relatively high, the soles of his feet planted firmly, his body shifting with subtle rises and falls. He looked as though he might cross the distance in an instant and launch an airborne kick at any moment.
One defining trait of the Non-Body style was that while an opponent might appear distant, they could leap before you in an instant to unleash a ferocious assault. Generally, such impact was extraordinarily difficult to block head-on.
Clayton, meanwhile, maintained a slightly angled profile. His center of gravity was set low in an expansive bow stance, his torso tilted forward with both hands extended out in front.
It was a somewhat unusual posture, yet this was Migas martial arts—a technique combining elements of freehand sparring and joint grappling.
Their philosophy was to conserve stamina, eliminate all superfluous motion, and unleash an overwhelming advantage in the shortest possible window to bring down the opponent.
This was the direct opposite of the Non-Body style, which emphasized creating openings through active offense. Philosophy, however, was merely philosophy; practical execution varied greatly depending on individual physiology and one's adaptability to technique.
The two squared off, both approaching the initial seconds with caution. Xin Youzhu began shifting his footwork slowly, at first circling in one direction before testing another after a few paces, subtly altering his cadence in between.
The Non-Body style excelled at rhythmic shifts, yet he found his opponent remarkably composed, yielding not the slightest opening despite several probing maneuvers.
He was still young, after all, and a hint of impatience crept into his heart. In truth, not only him, but even the other Non-Body style coaches wore grave expressions. Xin Youzhu's approach had been flawless; sending them in his place would hardly have yielded a better opening. One could only say that this youth from the Migas Martial Arts Hall was exceptionally skilled.
The Non-Body style inherently required an offensive approach. The longer one waited, the more one's momentum waned, until one might no longer perform at their true level.
Therefore, after fruitlessly probing for a prolonged spell, Xin Youzhu decisively abandoned the effort and resolved to launch a forceful assault. Shifting his footwork slightly, he stepped within striking range. With an abrupt sidestep followed by a clean shift in direction, he flew through the air, driving a kick toward Clayton.
He knew almost nothing about his opponent, yet Clayton seemed to understand his offensive habits intimately. Watching from the sidelines, Xin Wulang noticed in advance that Clayton's eyes were tracking the precise landing point of Youzhu's feet. This was no simple observation, but a fully confident anticipation. The outcome unfolded precisely as he feared—
A muffled thud, followed by a heavy crash, and a figure plummeted forcefully to the ground.
Victory and defeat were decided almost instantaneously. Xin Youzhu was the one who had fallen. His face was flushed crimson, and his chest took the brunt of the blow, with several broken ribs. Paralyzed by the lingering impact of jin, he lay completely immobilized.
Clayton straightened up and bowed toward him.
He had won the first round without question. Were this a genuine life-or-death battle, he could have stepped forward to finish off his defenseless opponent.
Medical personnel immediately rushed forward to help Xin Youzhu down. Once his injuries were briefly tended to, he said with embarrassment to Xin Wulang, "I'm sorry, Father. I disappointed you."
Xin Wulang did not reproach him, saying, "Losing one bout doesn't matter. Understand how you lost, and find a way to win it back next time." He added sternly, "There are four rounds left. You must fight every single one as if it were your last."
"Yes!"
Xin Youzhu rallied his spirits somewhat. After a moment's thought, driven by an inner urge, he walked up before Chen Chuan under the gaze of the crowd. He bowed forward. "May this junior request guidance from Your Excellency?"
Chen Chuan looked at him and nodded slightly. It was a bold move, and the boy clearly knew the right thing to do in this situation.
This seemingly honest, simple youth was not foolish in the slightest. Chen Chuan said, "You actually did quite well just now. Your opponent's strike was originally meant to snap your spine and end the contest right there. But you twisted your torso in time and condensed your mutated tissue, suffering only minor injuries. He was prepared, whereas you were not, which proves that both your fundamentals and on-the-spot reactions are superior to his. You merely lack the proper tactical guidance. I'll teach you a method."
Wenli'er spoke up at this point. "Mr. Chen, pardon the intrusion. What you are about to teach him is likely some tactical approach, yes? Do I need to step aside?"
"No need," Chen Chuan replied. "I am merely conveying some combat techniques. Hearing them is meaningless for fighters who do not practice the Non-Body style."
With that, he began instructing him right on the spot.
Hearing that he had no need to step away, Wenli'er listened openly. Yet as he listened, he found the instructions comprised commonplace concepts, with only slight differences in certain details. But those pertained to exerting jin and power; without the corresponding mutated tissue, hearing it was useless, as one could never put it into practice.
Still, he did not believe Chen Chuan would speak nonsense. A doubt lingered in his mind: could these simple points truly enable the boy to defeat his disciple?
It seemed this question could only be answered in the second round.
As Chen Chuan provided guidance, he had Xin Youzhu test it out. After roughly twenty minutes, he stopped and asked, "Do you understand?"
Xin Youzhu listened with an appetite for more. Everything Chen Chuan explained was something he had heard before, yet for some reason—perhaps the order of instruction, perhaps the shift in breathing rhythm, or perhaps a particular link between different ways of exerting force—it gave him a sensation akin to a transformation.
His dejection had completely vanished, replaced by an eager desire to fight.
He answered loudly, "Understood!"
Chen Chuan said, "Then prepare for the second round."
"Yes!"
Xin Youzhu took a sip of water and walked back onto the stage. For some reason, when he stepped forward this time, not only his opponent but also the spectators on both sides felt an added trace of confidence in him. Compared to moments ago, he seemed like an entirely different person.
After standing before his opponent for a few moments, Xin Youzhu took the initiative once more. Clayton observed his footwork and technique, decisively launching a counterstrike. Yet this strike, delivered with absolute confidence, hit nothing but empty air. Clayton was startled, and before he could adjust, darkness abruptly fell before his eyes.
The onlookers witnessed a bizarre scene: Clayton's punch struck empty space, while Xin Youzhu's knee drove through the air straight into Clayton's face. Accompanied by the crisp crack of fracturing bone, Clayton flew backward heavily, lying motionless and unconscious upon hitting the ground.
Seeing this, everyone realized that Clayton had misjudged his opponent's trajectory.
Yet therein lay the puzzle: Xin Youzhu had clearly not approached from that direction, so why had Clayton punched toward that empty spot?
Wenli'er cast a glance over, certain that his disciple had not been influenced by psionic force; this was purely an error in anticipation. Yet Xin Youzhu had not undergone any fundamental improvement compared to before, nor were his movements noticeably more deceptive. Why, then, had his disciple made such a blunder?
As an experienced martial artist, he grasped the crux of the matter with a single turn of thought.
He looked toward Chen Chuan. "Mr. Chen, this round belongs to you. I have a question, if I may ask?"
Chen Chuan replied, "Please speak."
Wenli'er asked, "Was what your disciple just employed a technique of the Non-Body style?"
Chen Chuan said, "Indeed, it is the most orthodox technique of the Non-Body style—altering the breath to exchange the spirit, rendering the body not of oneself. It can be called 'Non-Body as Spirit.'"
Many in the audience found the explanation obscure, yet some Non-Body style coaches faintly grasped its meaning, their faces showing dawning realization.
In reality, this was not an exceptionally arcane technique. The foundation passed down in the Non-Body style had been modified by Alu, perhaps out of her desperate desire to break free from her primary vessel. A core essence of the art was adjusting one's mental state to mirror that of another.
In other words, while looking like the same person on the surface, one's internal habits and movement cadence became entirely different from before.
What Chen Chuan had instructed—starting from breathing and force delivery to the overall rhythm—was precisely how to adjust him into 'another person.' Clayton had clearly failed to realize this, continuing to rely on his previous successful experience, which led directly to his defeat.
Wenli'er naturally grasped the meaning. He pondered the phrase softly: "'Non-Body as Spirit'…"
Xin Wulang glanced at Clayton, who was receiving emergency treatment on the ground and showed no sign of waking. He asked, "Hall Master Wenli'er, do you need us to provide medicine?"
"No need."
Wenli'er looked at Chen Chuan and said with genuine admiration, "With Mr. Chen present, there is no need to contest the remaining bouts. We concede."
Chapter 1179