Chen Chuan watched the figure flying off the platform, but he did not stop. Riding the forward momentum of his punch, he took two strides, leapt into midair, and arrived above Fenghe Shou in an instant. Raising a single fist, brilliant light flashing across his knuckles, he brought it smashing down with savage force!
Fenghe Shou plunged like a meteor, slamming into the ground in an instant. With a tremendous boom, a massive crater blasted open below, hurling dirt and gravel outward in all directions as thick clouds of dust billowed into the air.
Chen Chuan dropped down from above, his feet planting steadily upon the earth. Subduing the glow about his body, he walked toward where the man had fallen.
Yet just as he drew near, he sensed something amiss. He raised both arms in a guard, only to see an enormous shadowy outline materialize in the dust around him. Two spectral palms large enough to envelop him swept together toward the center, appearing ready to crush him in a single squeeze.
A muffled thunderous rumble shook the air. Both palms were halted by Chen Chuan's braced forearms. As the Spiritual Fires from both sides eroded and neutralized one another, the light over the palms gradually guttered out. Chen Chuan thrust his arms outward with a violent flex, and with a sharp bang, the semi-corporeal hands shattered into fragments, dispersing into thin wisps of mist that melted into the air.
At that exact instant, the Wenlei Saber—which had left its owner's grasp at some unknown point—descended behind him. While still airborne, the drifting smoke coalesced into an apparition of Fenghe Shou. The phantom seized the hilt, spun its body, and swept the blade down in a vicious chop!
Second Sight Stance, Decapitation Saber!
Chen Chuan's eyes remained calm and deep. He stood motionless, merely extending a single hand behind him. With a sharp crack, the edge of his palm—ablaze with his life fire—intercepted the descending blade. His fingers snapped shut, locking the steel in an iron grip. The saber-wielding apparition of Fenghe Shou stared at him for a brief second before dissolving like a popping bubble in the passing air currents.
From within the dust ahead came a voice: "Mr. Chen, this match is my loss."
Chen Chuan had not looked back once during that final strike. Now, he drove the Wenlei Saber point-down into the earth and strode forward. The eddying breeze brushed past, sending his red scarf fluttering behind him.
Reaching the edge of the crater, he saw Fenghe Shou lying embedded in the soil. The arm left exposed was twisted out of shape, half of his face was missing, and thick plumes of white vapor billowed from the wounds. Not only there, but multiple parts of his body were leaking wisps of platinum light.
This was the Spiritual Fire Chen Chuan's jin had driven into his flesh, relentlessly assaulting his internal mutated tissue and preventing immediate regeneration.
Chen Chuan made no further move. After a brief wait, the platinum glow faded, and the sound of resetting bones cracked from Fenghe Shou's frame. A moment later, he stood back up, loose soil rustling down from his figure.
Most of his pavilion robe was shredded. The damage was most severe across his chest, where a gaping hole had been torn open, now knitting closed at remarkable speed.
Chen Chuan's jin had wrought severe destruction within him, ravaging nearly all the mutated tissue in its path. Only a martial artist possessed such extraordinary regenerative capacity; an ordinary fighter struck by that blow would likely have died on the spot.
In truth, had this not been an amicable spar and had Chen Chuan come with lethal intent, Fenghe Shou would have had no means to fight back during those moments.
Chen Chuan remarked, "Pavilion Master Fenghe held back on that final slash."
That slash had clearly been steered by mental power—stealthy and formidable in its own right.
Fenghe Shou shook his head. "It would have made no difference, Mr. Chen. Dispersing that strike was hardly difficult for you." Looking down at the white vapor that still swirled with considerable vigor even after being drawn in, he offered a helpless smile. "Even had the blade landed, it likely would not have wounded you. Afterward, I would have been entirely spent, without even the breath to speak. From the very outset, victory was out of reach for me today."
To land a blow on an opponent's true body, one first had to breach the True Force of Embracing Oneness enveloping them. Without piercing that layer, virtually no meaningful harm could be dealt. Yet Chen Chuan's True Force was overwhelmingly abundant; his physical body alone was enough to withstand the edge of a blade, and he seemed entirely unconcerned about expenditure.
That alone was daunting, yet superior force by itself was not enough to guarantee absolute dominance. What truly decided it was Chen Chuan's combat logic: every choice had been tailored against him, neutralizing his style from start to finish. Fenghe Shou asked, "May I ask how Mr. Chen deduced the nature of my saber momentum?"
His saber style relied on continuous momentum. Once unleashed, it surged like rolling waves, each stroke stronger than the last. The only possible opening lay at the very beginning—and even that was relative, hardly a true flaw. Had he been able to press Chen Chuan for even an instant, the subsequent waves of strikes would have unfurled, revealing power incomparable to what he had shown.
Yet Chen Chuan had denied him any opening to build momentum, relentlessly executing that strategy until the technique was strangled at the source.
Chen Chuan replied, "I saw the characters for 'Waves' carved into the great boulder before your hall. Though several centuries have passed, the lingering mental imprint still carries that relentless, unbroken surge. I knew I could not afford to let Pavilion Master Fenghe unleash it."
"The calligraphy left by Founder Chandao, is it?"
Fenghe Shou nodded in realization. Those two characters indeed embodied the essence of Waves Hall's martial arts, but only someone with an exceptionally profound mental plane could perceive it. And perceiving it was one thing; executing a counter was quite another.
Among the martial artists he had encountered, Chen Chuan's raw strength and speed ranked in the highest tier, and his ability to seize tactical opportunities was pinpoint sharp. Such superior combat decision-making paired with transcendent physical conditioning made him virtually invincible. His own defeat was entirely justified.
Fenghe Shou reached out a hand. As his biological field unfurled, loose gravel drifted upward. A short distance away, the Wenlei Saber quivered, leaped free of the earth, and flew back into his grasp.
Securing the weapon at his waist, he bowed deeply to Chen Chuan and said solemnly, "I was the one who presumptuously invited Mr. Chen here to spar. As the host, it falls to me to make amends for whatever Mr. Chen expended in this battle, so that proper etiquette is observed. I must ask Mr. Chen not to refuse."
Chen Chuan did not decline. "Then I will accept your hospitality."
Fenghe Shou straightened. "Please."
Chen Chuan nodded and followed Fenghe Shou back upward. Glancing to the side, he noticed an enormous figure sitting dozens of meters away. It stood at least thirty meters tall, presumably one of Waves Hall's former pavilion masters.
The figure sat on the ground with a massive weapon driven through its chest, one hand resting on the hilt—evidently having ended its own life.
Because intense light beat against its back, most of the body was reduced to a silhouette. Yet because its head hung low, half of a hideously contorted, monstrous face was visible.
Withdrawing his gaze, Chen Chuan returned to the platform, pulled the Xuejun Saber from the ground, sheathed it, and followed Fenghe Shou back toward the fissure entrance. With another pull of the chain, the pavilion they were in began its ascent.
Once back above, Fenghe Shou set the Wenlei Saber onto its weapon stand and bade an attendant bring fresh water for Chen Chuan to freshen up. He then excused himself with an apology and changed into fresh garments. Upon returning, he clapped his hands.
A moment later, the lame, black-clad elder Chen Chuan had seen earlier emerged, carrying dishes of prepared ingredients and placing them on the low table.
Chen Chuan looked down at a bowl of fine porcelain filled with plump, lustrous grains of rice. Flanking it were long rectangular platters neatly stacked with paper-thin slices of pale-pink meat.
Yet what drew the eye most was a large fish split open along its spine. Set upright on the platter, its belly was stuffed with fragrant diced fruit, glistening corn kernels, tender cubes of meat, chopped tubers, and a sprinkling of minced green leaves, all drizzled in a rich, savory broth.
Having arranged the feast, the lame elder dropped to his knees and bowed low.
"This is the fare this old servant has prepared. Please enjoy, honored guest."
Fenghe Shou gestured toward the large fish. "This is the 'National Fish.' In the old era, the royal court reserved it for entertaining distinguished guests from afar. Long ago, after Founder Chandao established Waves Hall, the Gong clan hosted a banquet in his honor, attended by three Blade Masters and two Great Generals. This very National Fish was served to regale the assembly.
"Back then, the National Fish used was a giant fish king measuring a full three zhang in length, stuffed with twenty-eight distinct ingredients gathered from the Confluence. It required the full might of the kingdom to prepare such a feast.
"Waves Hall cannot afford a banquet of that scale today, but we have managed to recreate the essence of the dish. Counting the National Fish itself, we have assembled six of the ingredients."
Chen Chuan nodded. Being able to recreate such a feast was commendable in itself. As the aroma drifted up, he could feel the mutated tissue in his body stirring eagerly, evidence of the immense nutritional value packed within.
Fenghe Shou continued, "After partaking of the feast back then, Founder Chandao asked the Gong royal family for the culinary artisan who prepared it.
"The Gong royal family granted the artisan to him on the condition that he slay a descended yaogui." Fenghe Shou glanced at the lame elder. "And this servant of mine is the descendant of that grand culinary master, his lineage having attended to the meals of Waves Hall for generations."
The lame elder knelt to the side, pressing his forehead to the floor once more.
Chen Chuan nodded in understanding. Nearly all ingredients harvested from the Confluence were consumed raw to preserve their complete nutritional value. Consequently, they required specialized handling beforehand to remove harmful or inedible parts while concentrating the nutrients—a craft none but dedicated professionals could manage.
"Mr. Chen, please," Fenghe Shou offered, picking up his rice bowl and using his chopsticks to place a slice of meat atop the rice.
Chen Chuan waited for his host to begin before lifting a porcelain spoon, ladling a generous scoop of the rich broth and stuffing from the National Fish into his bowl, and savoring it thoughtfully.
Chapter 807