“Hmph, to get more Dream Pills, Lin Ze, you’ll just have to be my stepping stone, Ling Feifan.”
He stood there arrogantly, barely glancing at Lin Chen. Maybe the Dream Pills had inflated his ego, making him reckless.
“Begin!” Lin Ze said coolly.
Though he found Ling Feifan decent, he wasn’t overly hopeful. The kid’s footing was shaky, his realm unstable—clearly forced up by some external means.
Lasting a hundred moves against Lin Chen like that? Tough odds.
“Yes, General!” Ling Feifan flashed an excited grin. Step one of the plan was in the bag.
Next, he just had to hold out for a hundred moves.
Facing Lin Chen, he didn’t defend—he attacked.
Heavenly Demon Spear!
A rare top-tier Ling Clan technique he’d picked up while training outside.
This spear art was fierce and tricky, a sudden strike most warriors couldn’t counter.
Paired with his speed—likely another Ling Clan top-tier movement skill—he closed in on Lin Chen instantly.
“Fall!”
Ling Feifan roared, his spear piercing like a dragon through clouds, his form ghostly, the tip flickering into countless shadows.
“Amazing! Is this the Ling Clan’s top young talent?”
“That spear work’s unreal—if he beats Lin Chen, it’ll put Tianfeng City’s warriors on the map!”
Plenty of young spectators knew Ling Feifan, one of Tianfeng’s Four Princes, and they buzzed with excitement.
But Lin Ze, perched at the judge’s seat, remained calm, his thoughts unreadable.
He wasn’t impressed.
Sure, Ling Feifan stood out in Tianfeng—few could match him.
But freaks like Ling Xiao and Ling Yixue existed here too.
And Lin Chen, facing him, had been personally trained by Lin Ze.
Against that spear, Lin Chen showed no fear, just a slight step back before drawing the blade he’d kept sheathed.
Boom!
Spear clashed with sword in midair!
Lin Chen slid back two steps; Ling Feifan stumbled over ten before steadying.
Shock hit Ling Feifan hard.
He’d attacked first, with the upper hand, yet this was the result?
Didn’t that mean Lin Chen was leagues above him?
Unwilling to yield, he charged again.
Lin Chen stayed defensive, not striking back.
Ling Feifan wasn’t weak—three moves wouldn’t cut it like with the others.
But after adjusting to the wild spearplay, on the fifty-third move, Lin Chen countered.
A simple slash struck Ling Feifan’s spear shaft.
A jolt rocked Ling Feifan’s body—he couldn’t hold the weapon, and Lin Chen’s kick sent him flying.
“Ugh, kid, go solidify your foundation. You’re at Sixth Layer peak, but in a real fight, you’d lose to an early Sixth Layer,” Lin Ze said, genuinely let down.
One of Tianfeng’s Four Princes, and this was it? Disheartening.
“Hmph, Tianfeng’s just a small city—what genius could it have? General, you’re overrating these folks,” a jarring voice cut in.
“Wan Renwang!”
Lin Ze’s face darkened as he eyed the speaker. “Wan Renwang, you’re just here to assist me with the Dream Pill burn on the Governor’s orders. Tianfeng may be small, but it’s got talent—I just haven’t found it. Stop spouting nonsense.”
“Hahaha, General Lin, you’re too kind to these losers. I’ll say it now—if anyone lasts a hundred moves against me, I’ll kneel and kowtow!” Wan Renwang laughed.
He wasn’t much stronger than Lin Chen.
But he was a Tiannin Academy disciple.
Lin Chen was just from the Border General’s Mansion.
“General, give me one more shot!” Ling Feifan piped up.
“Forget it. I said your base is shaky—you’ve forced your cultivation. Go home and stabilize it,” Lin Ze replied patiently, sparing him further blows.
“General Lin, what’s the harm in another chance? Afraid Lin Chen might lose?” Wan Renwang taunted.
His strength paled next to Lin Ze’s, but his status—representing Governor Wan Ben—gave him boldness.
“General, if you don’t let me try again, it’s unfair. I was careless earlier, didn’t use my full strength,” Ling Feifan added loudly.
Lin Ze frowned.
His disappointment was turning to disgust with this kid.
In real combat, carelessness was death—asking for a redo?
Pure stupidity.
“Lin Chen, show him what a battlefield’s like,” Lin Ze ordered, dropping his objection.
Lin Chen, a Sixth Layer peak warrior, wasn’t top-tier in realm, but his skills were forged in blood. Ling Feifan wouldn’t hold up.
Unaware, Ling Feifan figured he’d tapped into the Ling Clan’s fourth-floor library, grasping scraps of Mortal Martial Art mysteries.
Just scraps, but he thought them stronger than any top-tier technique—enough to crush Lin Chen.
“Yes, sir!” Lin Chen saluted, sighing inwardly. Ling Feifan was clueless—did he think Lin Ze couldn’t see through him?
He’d let the kid attack once, then end it fast with thunderous force.
A lesson—whether Ling Feifan could rise from it depended on him.
“Make your move!” Lin Chen said.
“You’ll regret letting me go first!” Ling Feifan smirked.
He’d worried Lin Chen’s attack would disrupt his setup—the Mortal Martial scraps needed a specific mood, time-consuming to unleash.
Now, with the chance, he wouldn’t waste it.
Eyes shut, his aura shifted strangely.
It piqued Lin Chen and Wan Renwang’s curiosity.
Only Lin Ze stayed stone-faced, unreadable.
The spear rose slowly, aimed at Lin Chen, and for a split second, it carried a Martial Master’s pressure.
