The Power of a Single Punch

A crisp snapping sound echoed, and the leader in black let out a muffled groan, stumbling back two steps. Even with his face obscured by a black scarf, it was clear that two wet lines of blood seeped through, quickly staining the fabric.

Jiang Feng’s punch had been swift and cunningly angled; the bridge of the nose was one of the body’s most fragile spots. The leader hadn’t considered him a threat at all, yet now found his nose shattered in a single blow.

Jiang Feng spoke coldly, “Master Wu, I didn’t expect Lord Fuliu would send you here, and bring so many assassins. Clearly, your ambitions are far from simple.”

Teng Zhi, locked in combat with one of the black-clad men, heard this and abruptly looked up, disbelief coloring his gaze as he turned rightward.

What? The leader was his former mentor, Master Wu?!

Wu straightened his back, bones emitting faint cracking sounds as his figure subtly shifted. He pulled down his black scarf, wiped away the blood from his nose, and tossed it aside.

“Kid, your eyes are sharp. I’ll give you one last chance: join me under Lord Fuliu now—it’s not too late!”

Jiang Feng answered him wordlessly—with his fist.

There was a gap of an entire major rank between them; Wu reached out to grab Jiang Feng’s fist. Before their hands met, a thunderous blast erupted between them. The shockwave exploded in front of Wu’s face, blurring his vision and sending blood gushing from his nose.

Furious, he shouted, “You wretch, courting death!”

Jiang Feng stood his ground. “You killed my companions; it’s you who must die!”

No more words were exchanged; battle resumed in chaos.

From then on, Jiang Feng no longer confronted Wu directly, instead employing every tactic to harry and delay him, stalling for time.

Wu immediately saw through his intentions—Jiang Feng was clearly waiting for Hua Su to arrive!

Wu was unsure of Hua Su’s true strength. He’d brought nine black-clad warriors, all seasoned experts on the brink of the Dawn realm, with ample combat experience.

With such manpower, he didn’t believe he’d have any trouble dealing with Hua Su.

Yet the longer the fight dragged on, the more unpredictable it became. He needed to hurry and kill Jiang Feng!

As long as Jiang Feng lived, the Gutu Martial Hall would become a laughingstock, mocked behind their backs. The power he’d painstakingly built over years would become a joke overnight.

But if Jiang Feng died, especially so soon after securing the champion’s title, the gossip would change. People might loathe or fear him, but in time, Gutu’s power would hold sway over all.

Thus, Jiang Feng must die! From the moment he defeated Teng Zhi and utterly crushed Gutu Martial Hall, his fate was sealed.

At Wu’s command, the attacks from the black-clad men intensified.

Jiang Feng was extraordinarily sly; unable to subdue him swiftly, Wu shifted his focus to the others.

You can dodge, but let’s see if your companions can!

Teng Zhi’s mind was in turmoil.

His opponent was the mentor who’d taught him for years. Though Wu had always suppressed him, forbidding him from the county examination in hopes Teng Zhi would win the champion’s title and bring him glory, the truth was, without Wu’s guidance, Teng Zhi would never have reached the stage of mastering five apertures, nor attained the strength of three breaths in his clarity force at such a young age.

Teng Zhi disagreed with some of Wu’s methods but was genuinely grateful to him.

But now, regardless of how Jiang Feng had won the final match—no matter if it was a bit crafty—his title as champion was beyond dispute. Such a youth, undoubtedly, would shine brilliantly in future provincial trials, his martial prospects limitless!

For a teacher of a martial hall to attempt murder simply because his student won the champion’s title—Teng Zhi could never condone such a thing!

He didn’t know who these black-clad men were or where they came from, but it was obvious they were Wu’s subordinates.

Now, their attacks grew fiercer, and they showed no mercy towards him. Whenever Wu glanced his way with that chilling gaze, Teng Zhi felt a cold dread grip his heart.

He’d truly regarded Wu as a mentor, yet Wu held no trace of affection for his disciple.

Bitterness and rage fermented within him, his movements growing more savage and forceful. Suddenly, he let out a wild roar, seized a black-clad man before him, and smashed his forehead down, hard!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three heavy blows rang out in succession. On the final strike, a faint golden glow enveloped Teng Zhi’s forehead—the headbutt infused with clarity force!

The black-clad man was left dazed, instinctively attempting to dodge. Teng Zhi’s right fist erupted in flames and punched into his abdomen.

He poured all his strength into that punch, his fist piercing through the man’s belly and protruding from his back. Teng Zhi roared again and flung the body aside, smashing it into another black-clad man who was about to attack Hong Cheng from behind.

There were four on their side, and after the recent casualty, nine on the enemy’s. Their strongest was Teng Zhi, at five apertures; the enemy’s leader, Wu, was at the Dawn realm, and the rest ranged from five to six apertures.

They were outmatched, clearly.

Teng Zhi and Hong Cheng could barely hold their own, but Wang Erhu was barely hanging on. His wounds worsened, and he was on the verge of collapse.

The battle was utter chaos, but Jiang Feng’s grasp of the situation remained crystal clear.

He spun like a fish, slipped through an opening, moved away from Wu, and rushed to aid Wang Erhu. Halfway there, Wu sneered, suddenly unleashing his full aura. Jiang Feng’s body stiffened; his movements slowed, suppressed by the force.

Wu accelerated, punching straight toward Jiang Feng.

If Jiang Feng pressed forward, he’d be walking right into Wu’s fist. He twisted desperately, dodging the blow, but ended up farther from Wang Erhu.

A black-clad man raised his blade; Wang Erhu ducked, but his shoulder was pierced. Blood sprayed into the air, and Wang Erhu gritted his teeth against a muffled groan.

Wu sneered, “Trying to escape? Watch your companion die first!”

Blood blossomed again and again; the three nearby watched with reddened eyes, helpless as Wang Erhu staggered, wounded repeatedly.

His teeth clenched, not uttering a sound, lest it distract the others—yet this only made Jiang Feng and his companions more anxious.

Wu, a full rank above Jiang Feng, now unleashed his power, immediately suppressing Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng couldn’t shake Wu’s presence, let alone assist Wang Erhu.

He kept taking hits, Wu’s savage grin flickering before his eyes, Wang Erhu’s suppressed groans echoing faintly in his ears.

If he only dodged, perhaps he really could hold out until Hua Su arrived. Wu was using Wang Erhu’s peril to force Jiang Feng to counterattack.

Then, as if chilled water flooded Jiang Feng’s mind, clarity struck him with piercing lucidity.

He saw, as if before his eyes, a crescent moon blade—so narrow it was barely a slit, yet brighter than a full moon.

A radiant light burst forth from the crescent, shooting toward him.

Look closely—it wasn’t moonlight, but a fist.

The attack was as sharp as a blade, as piercing as a spear, shooting from the horizon to his face in an instant!

The surrounding air surged toward the fist, as if it possessed a natural, powerful suction, drawing everything in.

This punch carried the might of heaven and earth!

It was the very blow Ye Xiao had demonstrated that night he broke through—now, it appeared vividly before him, every detail, every flow of power etched into his mind and the seed of his celestial heart.

The Celestial Cube surfaced, blocks shifting rapidly.

Jiang Feng drew a deep breath.

Wu noticed subtle changes in the youth before him. He was still young, his vigor tinged with an unnatural calm, but now, that calm held something terrifying. If Wu followed his instincts, he would turn and flee without a second thought.

A faint breeze rose, carrying the scent of earth. The golden glow of sunset suddenly dimmed, as if suppressed.

Suddenly, Jiang Feng raised his eyes, staring straight at Wu.

Something seemed to flow in his gaze; the heart of his pupils turned brilliant gold.

Silently, he threw a punch.

It was slow, serene, almost elegant.

But the air erupted into chaos, colliding furiously and swirling into vortices in that space.

Jiang Feng called out, “Heartbreaker!”

His fist was still a foot from Wu, who hesitated, then suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

He looked down in shock—his chest was swelling outward. Moments later, with a loud crack, his ribs burst outward, blood gushing in torrents!

Blood spilled from his lips as he collapsed to his knees.

The wind swept his blood up, flinging it onto the black-clad men behind him.

One was about to stab Wang Erhu with his blade; drenched in blood, he shrieked in agony!

The blood seemed to carry corrosive power, detonating his skin, face, and eyes—he died before Wang Erhu’s feet, only a moment after Wu!

Teng Zhi, Hong Cheng, Wang Erhu, and the six remaining black-clad men were all stunned.

They stared at Jiang Feng in disbelief, as if at a monster.

A youth who’d just entered the realm of one chain and one aperture, under the suppression of a higher rank, had crossed the gap and slain a Dawn warrior?!

The gold in Jiang Feng’s eyes faded, returning to their clear, dark hue. He seemed surprised himself, a faint smile on his lips, then staggered and collapsed.

A black-clad man shouted, “He only had strength for that one punch!”

Another cried, “He killed Master Wu! Get him!”

They ignored Teng Zhi and the others, rushing toward Jiang Feng.

At that moment, a hand reached out and lifted Jiang Feng. Then, from beneath a wild mane of hair, a pair of cold eyes stared at the black-clad men.

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A bit discouraged...