Pan Xiaode and Qi Huixin both wielded rapiers. Because of their differing heights, their blades varied in length, and their styles were equally distinct.
The former favored direct, frontal thrusts, while the latter leaned toward swift, erratic maneuvers. Combined, one pressed forward to pin down the opponent while the other circled around for surprise flanks—an interplay of orthodox and unorthodox that complemented each other exceptionally well.
No matter how much Chen Chuan dialed down his physical manifestation, it was impossible to lower it all the way to the Second Limit.
Even so, he had discovered that by channeling his spiritual power, he could precisely coordinate his body and hold his output at the exact level he desired.
Under conscious influence, he could even dampen his senses below a certain threshold.
In the past, he had often wondered about those who possessed immense power. The greater their strength, the higher their everyday metabolic consumption; merely maintaining their baseline physiological functions would require massive intakes of energy and nutrients, to say nothing of during combat.
He had his Second Self to suppress his manifestation, but how did others achieve it?
Now he understood: anyone who knew how to apply spiritual power could impose limits upon themselves, keeping their bodies functioning at a specific baseline.
Under these constraints, however, he had surrendered his advantage in speed and strength. The only thing he could rely on was martial technique.
Yet even with his physical output matched to Pan Xiaode and Qi Huixin, his experience remained, his fighting technique remained, and his combat perception was not diminished in the slightest. Those qualities could not be stripped away. But then, true fairness never existed in combat—or rather, this was the natural state of things.
Chen Chuan casually deflected one of Pan Xiaode's thrusting rapiers with a flick of his hand. Seizing the opening, Pan Xiaode thrust his other rapier forward with a sharp hiss.
The instant the strike was unleashed, Chen Chuan subtly shifted his center of gravity. He looked as though he was pulling back, but in a flash, he lunged forward instead, slipping past the incoming tip and closing the distance.
Flanking from the side, Qi Huixin was thrown off by his feint. Her intended thrust was already half-extended; maintaining its trajectory would surely result in a miss. She had no choice but to adjust before pressing on, leaving her off-balance and frustrated.
Having stepped inside, Chen Chuan reached out toward Pan Xiaode's wrist. The latter retreated decisively while flicking his blade upward, attempting to slice Chen Chuan's forearm.
As if anticipating the move, Chen Chuan swatted his palm sideways, slapping the flat of the blade a step ahead of time. At the same moment, his other elbow rose slightly. Pan Xiaode started, fearing a blow to the face, and immediately leaned back to evade.
Instead, Chen Chuan ducked low and darted through the space Pan Xiaode had conceded, using the young man's frame to block Qi Huixin's line of approach from behind. Her readjusted thrust was thwarted once again.
From that point on, no matter how they attacked, Chen Chuan consistently positioned himself so that he faced only one opponent at a time, never allowing them to encircle him.
In truth, in a one-on-one bout under equal physical conditions, Chen Chuan could have dispatched either of them barehanded in two or three moves. But armed with weapons and working in tandem, they were able to trade blows and hold out against him as he was now.
The two moved as if sharing a single mind, displaying remarkable synergy and bringing out the very best of their abilities.
Tan Zhi had ceded the ground-floor hall to them and stood watching from the second-floor gallery. From his vantage point, the three were in constant motion.
Pan Xiaode and Qi Huixin fought desperately to secure advantageous angles, striving to surround Chen Chuan or drive him into a corner, yet Chen Chuan always managed to slip out before their pincer could close.
Whenever they tried to step back and regroup, Chen Chuan closed in first to attack one of them, forcing the other to rush in for a rescue and surrender the initiative. This sequence played out again and again, with Chen Chuan firmly controlling the rhythm of the bout.
It wasn't that Pan Xiaode and Qi Huixin hadn't thought of using that tendency as bait, but after several attempts were seen through by Chen Chuan, they could only honestly contest the initiative and seize whatever openings arose.
Tan Zhi could see the dynamics clearly. He couldn't help wondering what difference it would make if he jumped in right now. Would they stand a chance of winning?
He immediately shook his head. Better not. He had a clear sense of his own capabilities; he had zero coordination with the two of them. Jumping in would only add to the chaos, and he might very well become the breach Chen Chuan exploited.
Watching like this was just fine—he gained insight and saved his breath.
The sparring match lasted over an hour, coming to a halt only when Pan Xiaode and Qi Huixin voluntarily conceded.
Though not long in duration, the bout left them feeling utterly drained. What it consumed most was not stamina, but mental energy. Every passing second demanded total focus on their coordination, anticipating the next move and the move after that. In that brief session, they experienced an exhaustion they had not felt in a long time.
They had originally assumed that with their physical capabilities matched, they would stand at least some chance. Yet Chen Chuan struck at their flaws and openings every single time, making them realize that the gap between them was far more than physical—it encompassed perception, judgment, experience, and every other dimension of combat.
Fortunately, the offensive and defensive exchanges remained within their comprehension. They felt that this one hour of sparring had yielded more than an entire year of regular practice. Once they reviewed and digested it, they were bound to make significant progress.
Pan Xiaode was thrilled and offered his sincere thanks. "Student Chen, thank you so much!" Qi Huixin nodded in agreement.
Chen Chuan smiled. "Think nothing of it."
From above, Tan Zhi clapped his hands. "All right, all right, take a break, everyone. Have some drinks." He carried down several bottles of energy beverages and handed one to each of them.
Once the three were seated on the sofa, he brought out a deck of cards. "The musical starts at three in the afternoon, but we need to head in early. The three of you can have lunch here with me. After eating, we'll play a few rounds of cards, and then we'll head over to the theater."
Pan Xiaode asked, "What's the name of this musical again?"
"The foreign title is hard to remember, but translated, it's called 'Divine Song of the Wasteland.'"
"Right, that's the one! I've heard about it plenty of times, but I've never gone to see it. What's the story about, anyway?"
Tan Zhi said, "Supposedly, it's a real tale of love and vengeance from Norland."
He gave a brief summary. The story took place during the era of the Kingdom of Norland, when a destitute knight resting in a wilderness cave discovered an ancient divine poem handed down from antiquity.
At a single glance, the knight discerned that it contained combat techniques of ancient heroes. Overjoyed, he returned and presented it to his king.
However, neither the court swordmasters nor the high nobles could see anything in it beyond an ordinary scroll of verse, so they branded the knight a fraud.
Enraged, the king ordered the knight's limbs shattered with stones and had him cast out into the wilderness. But a kind, mute shepherd girl took him in and cared for him.
Refusing to resign himself to fate, the knight painstakingly adapted the divine poem into songs. Day after day, he sang by the roadside, hoping that passing nobles or merchants might understand.
Yet no one understood; they only ridiculed him. But through his daily singing, his voice was eventually heard by the daughter of a minor noble, who discerned the heroic combat techniques hidden within.
The noblewoman approached the fallen knight of her own accord. Moved by his spirit, she promised to fulfill his lifelong wish.
Once she had learned all the chapters she could comprehend, she set off alone for the royal court. Relying on her martial prowess, she was granted a title and brought great honor to her family.
Yet once she confirmed the peerless nature of her strength, her mindset shifted. Unwilling to let anyone else master such arts, she dispatched assassins to kill the knight.
What she didn't know was that the mute shepherd girl who had cared for the knight had quietly learned those chapters as well, despite being unable to sing. After capturing the assassins, she forced the truth from their lips. Overcome with fury and gratitude toward the shepherd girl, the knight sang the final chapter aloud.
Donning the battered knight's armor and grasping a rusted spear, the shepherd girl stormed the king's palace. There, the two women engaged in a savage battle that nearly brought down the entire court.
*Divine Song of the Wasteland* was an undisputed classic. Whenever it was staged, actual fighters were cast to play the protagonist and antagonist, chosen after competing against hundreds or thousands of applicants.
Truth be told, the musical itself wouldn't have held much appeal for them, but they eagerly anticipated the combat performed by genuine fighters. Furthermore, the true selling point was the rumor that the songs performed on stage were the very melodies passed down from the original protagonist—tunes bestowed by the divine.
The production comprised thirteen chapters in all, each featuring an act centered on a divine song. It was said that throughout history, more than a few masters had caught glimpses of profound secrets within them and attained sudden epiphanies.
Yet to this day, no one had ever deciphered the complete teachings from the songs. But the more elusive it was, the more it drew audiences. It held a powerful allure not only for fighters, but for ordinary people as well. After all, everyone harbored a dream in their heart—what if they were the one who finally understood?
"A lot of government officials and corporate executives will be there today," Tan Zhi said, tossing out a card. "We'll want to head out early. If we leave it too late, we might get stuck in traffic."
Pan Xiaode played a card in turn. "I hope it's really as incredible as the rumors say."
Chen Chuan looked at his hand and played a card. "According to the introductions, both lead performers are third limit fighters. That alone makes it worth seeing."
The other three nodded in agreement. That was certainly true.
After enjoying a lavish lunch prepared by Tan Zhi, the four set out, driving straight toward Weiguang District.
The venue for the musical was the Xihui Opera House, which had a seating capacity of three thousand. It regularly hosted concerts and dance performances, and thanks to its superb acoustics, several major radio programs were recorded there as well.
On the way over, the streets were noticeably busier than usual. Billboards on the flanking skyscrapers displayed advertisements and introductions for *Divine Song of the Wasteland*, playing musical excerpts that showcased the performers' enchanting vocals.
Even with their early departure, it was nearly two in the afternoon by the time their group arrived.
Chapter 484