Exchange

Seeing Instructor Zheng step onto the field to instruct him personally, Chen Chuan did not dare overestimate himself. Setting down the practice blade, he picked up the Xuejun Saber from the side. Returning to the center of the training ground, he stared at Instructor Zheng for a moment, let out a soft shout, and slashed forward! There were no fancy tricks to this strike. Trying to match Instructor Zheng in finesse would be far less practical than an honest, direct slash. Yet he showed no sign of shrinking back or intimidation simply because the man opposite him was far superior in saber skills. As he slashed, the blow still carried an indomitable momentum—better, in fact, than his usual form. "Good," Instructor Zheng praised, clearly pleased with the momentum behind the strike. Even as he spoke, he raised his saber to meet it. With just a gentle tap, the power within the Xuejun Saber vanished in an instant, effortlessly swept aside. At the same time, Chen Chuan saw the tip of the saber pointing straight at him. With his blade deflected, he instinctively drew back his strength to defend. But the other's blade flickered slightly, as if poised to strike. If that angle and timing hit true, Chen Chuan wouldn't even have time to cover himself. His saber stance involuntarily shifted again, yet in that split second something felt off. By the time he realized it, he had slightly lost his balance and taken two involuntary steps back and to the side. From the outside, Instructor Zheng had simply stood where he was, his blade giving a slight quiver, while Chen Chuan, the attacker, lost his footing and stumbled back. Chen Chuan pondered it. What Instructor Zheng had just done wasn't some deeply mysterious technique; he had simply positioned his blade in advance toward the areas Chen Chuan was most anxious about and where an opening showed, forcing him into disarray of his own accord. As a fighter, he could never ignore such threats. Even knowing Instructor Zheng wouldn't actually press the attack, he would likely make the same involuntary response next time—an instinctive reaction of self-preservation. Instructor Zheng hadn't spoken right away, clearly waiting for him to think it through. Only now did he say, "Figured it out? Who said defense can't be offense? As long as you apply your jin properly and read the flow of battle accurately, even if the opponent strikes at you, the only one hurt in the end will be themselves. "But reaching this level requires a flawless foundation and refined skill. I don't expect you to manage it right away, but you need to understand it, and it will take relentless, hard practice day in and day out." Chen Chuan nodded earnestly. "Thank you for the guidance, Instructor Zheng. I will remember." Instructor Zheng chuckled. "You should have felt it by now. Those adept in technique can make one part strength achieve five parts effect, often defeating an opponent with far less effort. "That said, much as I advocate technique, technical opponents are actually the ones I despise facing the most. When you run into that kind of enemy, it's best to take them out immediately, or you'll be in for an enormous headache." With that, he waved toward the exit. "Enough talk! Let's go! I've had roast mutton prepared again today. Once we finish eating, we'll move into real combat sparring in the final third of the month!" Time flew, and the twentieth of the third month arrived in the blink of an eye. In a private arena in the southeast of Wuding District, quite a few disciples from various traditional schools had gathered today to take part in an internal exchange tournament. The youths were all discussing the opponents they would face. Every year, they sought out Wuyi trainees for sparring exchanges. Past records were split evenly down the middle with wins and losses on both sides, so they knew Wuyi's strengths and weaknesses well. Generally speaking, many Wuyi trainees were inferior to them in foundational skills. Although Wuyi trainees were trained from childhood as well, their instructors were hired from the outside. Being outsiders after all, they couldn't be as devoted as family elders, nor did they possess the teaching experience handed down across generations. Not to mention that their very lives centered around martial cultivation; they existed for combat, passing the craft down generation after generation. Those admitted to Wuyi, on the other hand, were often merely looking for a stepping stone to advance in society, without investing nearly as much as they did. Even when it came to the most critical resources, the traditional schools never lacked for anything. If they had a disadvantage, it was their small numbers. Theirs was purely elite training, unlike Wuyi, which turned out talent in batches every year. Wuyi trainees also had far more opportunities to fight outsiders. Every one of them was experienced and exceptionally adept at practical combat, whereas the traditional disciples adhered to the rule of not leaving until their training was complete. In the end, each side had its own strengths and shortcomings. "I heard that the one invited this time is a trainee who fought his way from a local city to earn a spot in Center City—all on his own. He isn't a recommended student, and he doesn't have an illustrious family background. Oh, and word has it he's a disciple of that Cheng elder." "The one from the Cheng family?" The young disciples came to a realization. They had all heard of him: clashing with his own father over ideological differences, voluntarily leaving Center City to become a teacher at a local Wuyi branch. In the past, elders had even cited him privately as a cautionary tale, warning them never to follow his example. Facing this man's disciple, they were quite confident, even feeling an inexplicable psychological edge. They knew what local cities were like. Their elders had taken them to train in those places, leaving a deep impression: rundown, poor, and backward. After going once, none of them ever wanted to return. Cultivation resources there were pathetically scarce, limited to whatever local medicines were available. Trainees emerging from such environments inevitably lacked a solid foundation. While they were still in the Second Limit, they might contend with them for a time, but progressing higher would be an entirely different story—if the guy could even advance further at all. The youth who spoke first dropped another piece of news: "I heard this guy actually has a record of defeating a third limit fighter." Liu Yin stood off to the side. At nineteen years old, he was the most outstanding disciple of this generation. He hadn't said much just now; he disliked disparaging opponents. Building a psychological advantage through talk struck him as the mark of the weak and insecure. Even so, hearing those words made him involuntarily pay attention. He knew full well what kind of strength the third limit represented. Elders in his family had reached that level. Bluntly put, no matter how well he trained, someone at that level could fell him in a single move. The gap was monumental. Could this trainee really boast such a feat? How had he done it? He was deeply skeptical. The question on his mind was immediately blurted out in astonishment by someone else: "Is that true or false? It can't be fake, can it?" The others around them also wore looks of utter disbelief. "Of course it's true," the young man smiled. "But don't worry. I heard he was using medicine back then. Right, word is his constitution allows him to bring out the full efficacy of medicines, plus... well, the person he fought was an implant fighter who happened to have most of his implants wrecked beforehand, so he just got lucky." "So that's how it was." Realization dawned on the group. That made far more sense. Even so, their elders had warned them repeatedly during their training never to take drugs that seemingly caused power to surge, for that was overdrafting one's potential in advance. Thus someone remarked, "Isn't he afraid of ruining his foundation?" "Hah, what choice did he have? Trainees from backwater cities don't have the conditions. To reach Center City, what else did he have to risk except his own body?" Hearing this, Liu Yin suddenly lost interest in today's opponent. The fellow might look robust on the surface, but underneath he was likely already riddled with flaws and damage. What meaning was there in defeating an opponent like that? "Look, he's here." Even as they spoke, a red sports car pulled up at the entrance of the arena. The passenger door opened, and Chen Chuan stepped out. Since he was participating in the exchange as a Wuyi trainee, he wore his Wuyi uniform today, with the Xuejun Saber naturally at his side. "Oh? This young man is actually quite good-looking." "Quite sharp and spirited, too." "Sigh, what a shame." The youths had initially looked down on Chen Chuan, but seeing him now, they felt pity for him. Some even looked at him with sympathy, wondering if they should spare his face when the sparring began, considering how pitiable his circumstances already were. Liu Yin sized Chen Chuan up. Judging from the rhythm of his walk, he was certainly no pushover, but he couldn't be considered truly exceptional either. After parking, Ni Xixi stepped out of the car, pushed her goggles up onto her head, and led Chen Chuan into the training arena. Addressing the gathered youths, she said, "This is Brother Chen. You should all know his background by now. He only has one day, so let's cut the chitchat. Who's going first?" "I'll go first." A young man roughly the same age as Chen Chuan stepped forward, cupping his fists. "Han Kuang. Trainee Chen, please grant me your guidance." Seeing that he was bare-handed, Chen Chuan walked over to the side and leaned the Xuejun Saber against a weapon rack. Returning, he cupped his fists in return. "Chen Chuan. Trainee Han, please." The onlookers immediately cleared the area. After locking eyes with Chen Chuan for a moment, Han Kuang scraped his foot against the floor with a scuff, kicking forward to drive his body into a long stride. He closed the distance in a flash, kicking up a gust of wind around him. The spectators nodded in quiet approval. Jin stance training not only cultivated jin but also emphasized footwork. With good footwork, one's center of gravity remained stable, movement was swift, and advance and retreat were effortless. Han Kuang's advance was both fast and steady—his foundation was exceptionally solid. Chen Chuan was currently maintaining a low level of output. He wouldn't show an overwhelming dominance when he fought, as this allowed him to use his opponent to hone his own technique. Han Kuang had seized the initiative, his momentum blazing right from the start. Under normal circumstances, one should evade at such a moment and seek an opening when the opponent cycled their breath. But Chen Chuan did nothing of the sort; doing the exact opposite, he charged straight forward to meet him. Han Kuang naturally wasn't fazed by this move. He had sparred privately countless times and was well-acquainted with most reactions an opponent might have. He immediately saw that Chen Chuan wanted to strike second to seize control—anticipating his moves to stifle his momentum, then snatching the initiative in one stroke. Yet since he had dared to take the offensive, how could he let Chen Chuan counter it so easily? His torso remained steady, but beneath his raised knee, his lower leg drew slightly inward, causing his fiercely charging body to plant a half-step early. That slight variation in distance made all the difference in the outcome. The move Chen Chuan intended to check him with instantly became useless; instead, it was as if Chen Chuan had delivered himself right into his hands. All Han Kuang needed to do now was wait for Chen Chuan's move to fully materialize or force him into a hasty change of technique, then exploit the opening. Watching this exchange of techniques, the surrounding youths secretly cheered. Chen Chuan's response was decent, but his intention was too obvious. Against an ordinary fighter, he might have caught them off guard, but while Han Kuang appeared reckless, he had laid a hidden trap, turning the tables to seize control instead. Facing the adjustment, Chen Chuan showed no intention of altering his technique. Reaching out, one hand grabbed toward Han Kuang's shoulder while the other locked onto his opposite elbow. Han Kuang didn't panic at all. In his eyes, this was Chen Chuan's last gasp. By the time Chen Chuan's hands made contact, Han Kuang's attack would have landed first. Shifting his torso slightly, he threw a punch squarely into Chen Chuan's chest, releasing his jin with it. It's over! Though thrown from a tight angle, the strike employed the Xiaogui Jin technique, which specialized in generating force within small angles and subtle spaces; even a flick of the fingers could channel the strength of the entire body. It was nearly impossible to defend against. Having struck dead center on the chest, the outcome was all but settled. Yet what followed left him completely dumbfounded. Taking the punch, Chen Chuan didn't sway in the slightest; it was as though he had absorbed every ounce of the jin completely. In that instant, Chen Chuan's hands locked onto his shoulder and elbow. With a surge of force, Chen Chuan hoisted Han Kuang straight off his feet and slammed him violently into the floor beside him! With a loud bang, the wooden floor shuddered violently, striking like a heavy hammer against everyone's hearts. Han Kuang landed sprawled on the ground, his body bouncing slightly from the impact. Having the breath knocked out of him as his back hit the floor, his face went pale, his eyes stared blankly upward, and he couldn't even speak. The spectators couldn't help but gasp in shock. "Grappling jin? Doesn't he use a saber?" Liu Yin was equally surprised. He had seen it clearly: the moment Han Kuang struck, Chen Chuan used his jin to tank the blow while simultaneously seizing and throwing his opponent. It was an authentic grappling technique and jin application. Yet judging by Chen Chuan's physique, he didn't look like someone who trained in grappling, so it was no wonder Han Kuang had miscalculated. Chen Chuan straightened his jacket and leisurely smoothed his cuffs. This time, he hadn't used his Second Self to transfer the damage; instead, he had used Zhouyuan Jin to simulate grappling jin, and the result was remarkably effective. Ni Xixi asked, "Trainee Chen, want to continue? According to the rules of the exchange, having fought a match, you can rest up before going again." Chen Chuan replied casually, "No need. I hardly exerted myself. Let's continue."