Dao of the Deal - Chapter 62: Spirit Stones (6)

Chapter 62: Spirit Stones (6)

Hong frowned, his fine features somehow adding a touch of elegance to the expression, before making his way forward. The crowd parted before him. He didn’t even have to vary his stride as he approached the sparring ring. Junfeng might be able to laugh and joke in the face of an inner disciple, but the rest of the sect’s disciples were more respectful.

“Are you sure you want to have this match?” Hong asked. “After all, fists have no eyes.”

“Who’s to say who will be unlucky?” Junfeng asked. “And don’t forget, we need a wager. Let’s make it sixty points.”

That prompted a murmur of surprise that rippled through the crowd. Honestly, Muchen thought that the decision made sense. Junfeng was already courting all sorts of catastrophe by tangling with an inner disciple. The only possible way to survive was through victory. If he lost, saving on contribution points wouldn’t really matter. If he won, then he might as well add some contribution points to his account while he was at it.

“If you insist,” Hong replied. “I’ll limit myself to the techniques I was capable of at the meridian opening rank, to make things fair.”

That was a concession, but not nearly enough to level the playing field in truth. Hong would be restricted from using any kind of elemental technique, if he was able. He would also be barred from tapping into the spiritual energy fueled surge of strength that was common at the foundation building level.

On the other hand, he would still possess the inherently superior strength that every cultivator enjoyed upon reaching the foundation building stage. And if he was subtle in enhancing his strength, it would be hard for any outside observer to say whether it was his own strength or the result of a technique. There was only so much you could do to even out a fight between cultivators on different levels. The Qianzhan Continent didn’t have any common techniques for sealing away one’s cultivation base in order to fight at a lower strength, not at their level

“I’ll try my best, then,” Junfeng said.

The two of them exchanged a shallow bow, neither taking his eyes off of his opponent. With that, the fight was on.

Hong took a ready stance, but made no move to take the initiative. He could have been a little nervous after watching his underling’s failure, or just naturally cautious, but the subtle smirk on his face argued otherwise. However much he was doing to make things fair, he was after all an inner disciple. Taking a passive role at the start of the fight would make it easier to shrug off any future accusations of bullying.

Junfeng took his own stance and waited for a moment. When he saw that Hong wouldn’t make the first move, he seemed happy enough to step forward and take a swing. At his size nobody would mistake him for an athlete, but there was some serious muscle hidden under the fat. Not to mention that his bulk added a certain weight to his attack as he struck out with a fist the size of a ham hock.

Hong crossed his arms in front of himself and took the strike head on. The next two punches he deflected to the side, still without being forced to move. Junfeng took several steps back.

“You should concede, junior brother,” Hong said.

“Why would I do that, when I worked so hard to get you into the ring?” Junfeng asked.

His face flushed red as he stepped forward once more. This time his heavy fist ripped through the air at lightning speed and hit Hong’s crossed arms like a meteor. The inner disciple was forced to take several steps back to bleed off the momentum.

“Impossible,” Elder Yang said. He wasn’t the only one. The entire audience was in shock as Junfeng pressed his advantage, forcing Hong into a passive position.

Muchen knew he lacked the background knowledge of the rest of the crowd, but in this case he thought it was letting him see more clearly. Sure, Junfeng hadn’t made the best first impression, but Muchen wasn’t going to base his entire judgment of a person off of a single after-dinner nap. While Junfeng’s body fat percentage wasn’t anything to write home about, that was evidence that he needed to clean up his diet, not that he would be a pushover in a fight.

Watching him in the ring had been enough to dispel any lingering notions Muchen had held on that front. The endings might not have been ideal, but Junfeng had been firmly in control of both fights. He’d controlled the pace, made sure that his opponents couldn’t land a decisive blow, and the moment a chance for victory appeared, he seized it.

Fell on top of it. In the end, he didn’t let victory escape him.

That was enough for Muchen to believe that Junfeng had a chance to fight up a level. Especially with his opponent having agreed to give him a handicap. It was a surprise that Junfeng had pulled out a strength enhancement technique, but Xinyi had pushed Muchen into accomplishing the same thing at half of his cultivation level.

If anything, Muchen was surprised that the audience was so surprised. Whatever Junfeng got up to in his day to day life must have left a deep impression on the people around him.

“Can you tell me,” Muchen asked Elder Yang, pitching his voice low enough not to distract the rest of the table, “how do their cultivation levels compare?”

As he waited for an answer, Junfeng took another swing at Hong. This time he batted the attack to the side and stepped out of the way, no longer willing to absorb the force of the blow. Give credit to Hong—or to the martial training of the Iron Bones sect—he wasn’t going to give up and concede the victory to Junfeng just because he’d been surprised. Even if Junfeng had temporarily managed to edge him out in terms of strength, he still held an advantage in agility and fighting experience.

Though even that edge wasn’t as much as it might have been. The two fighters settled into a relatively even set of exchanges, neither able to gain a decisive edge over the other.

“Young Hong began building his foundation several months ago,” Elder Yang said. “Junfeng has opened eleven meridians. Or so I was told.”

Muchen nodded to show that he had heard. And that he understood the elder’s confusion. It was common sense on the Qianzhan Continent that to enhance strength on command required that you finish opening all twelve meridians. A talented disciple might be able to do it with eleven meridians open. It probably said something that Elder Yang was more willing to believe that Junfeng had secretly opened his final meridian rather than that he was any kind of remarkable talent.

Logically speaking, if it wasn’t raw talent, then Junfeng had picked up a valuable set of lessons somewhere, much as Xinyi had imparted her teachings to Muchen. As the fight wore on and his strength enhancement remained perfectly stable even as sweat started pouring from his forehead, the possibility of a fluke could be ruled out completely. He couldn’t help but wonder what other trump cards Junfeng had in his pocket.

Junfeng had spent years toiling under a bad reputation. He wasn’t going to be able to reverse the whole sect’s view of him overnight, but Muchen was willing to bet that after this fight there would be at least one elder interested in taking him under his wing.

Prodigy or not, though, Junfeng still hadn’t yet begun building his foundation. That one meridian that he had yet to open didn’t sound like much, but the difference each meridian made to strength and overall athleticism was immense. All the more so for the final meridian that marked the border between major realms.

Hong might not have access to his techniques, but he couldn’t seal away all of his skill and experience. With only his natural strength he couldn’t simply sweep Junfeng aside the way he had before, but he was still more than qualified to go toe to toe with his junior brother. The more time passed from the initial shock that had put him on the back foot, the more he took control of the fight.

Junfeng was forced back, step by step. The punches landing home on his fleshy body were enough to force him to give ground. When he was only a few steps away from the edge of the circle, he suddenly threw both arms behind his body and bellowed out a wordless roar that drowned out the sound of a vicious one-two combination striking home on his exposed belly. Junfeng was unfazed by the attack, continuing his roar of challenge until his face flushed red.

Actually, the red flush extended down to his neck and perhaps further. While that might be a bad sign for the future, Junfeng received a strength boost that was worthy of the strain he was putting on his body. His counterattack caught Hong flush on the cheek, the punch sending him staggering back.

Junfeng followed, pressing the attack. In the space of two breaths he regained the ground he had given up earlier. Now he was the one pressing his opponent remorselessly toward the edge of the ring.

Hong showed some cracks in his composure as he retreated. While Junfeng’s first burst of strength had been a surprise, in the end the overall level had been within his ability to control the fight. Now that Junfeng had dug deep and pushed himself to a higher level, he had managed to seize the initiative.

Hong grimaced as he was forced to retreat step by step. Muchen was just starting to think he could enjoy watching an underdog overcome his difficulties to secure a rousing victory when Hong’s expression shifted into a confident smirk. Junfeng didn’t let up his assault, either failing to catch his opponent’s change in demeanor or simply unwilling to give up his chance at victory.

Junfeng had been landing crushing blows against Hong’s blocks, forcing him back with his raw strength when Hong wasn’t simply retreating to get out of range. He launched another in a series of punishing strikes, but this time instead of the thud of a fist finding its target the arena echoed with the slap of skin on skin.

Hong had lashed out with a counter strike of his own, managing to grab Junfeng’s outstretched hand by the wrist and halt his momentum at the moment of contact. Junfeng frowned, coming out of his battle haze as he tried to yank his hand free of Hong’s grip.

Hong had verbally promised not to use any abilities he had developed in the foundation realm, but he hadn’t been under any sort of restraint other than his own word. If there were a referee, this is where he would have called the match. Muchen glanced around the room, waiting for someone to step in.

Junfeng’s struggles were useless. His technique had allowed him to match the native strength of a foundation building cultivator, an impressive feat in his own right, but he was outmatched once Hong began using his own spiritual energy to enhance his strength. It was like watching a child try to pull his hand free from an adult’s grasp.

Still nobody in the room spoke. Junfeng grunted as he threw himself backwards, but the heavy weight of his body couldn’t even force Hong to make any sound of effort.

Things could have ended there. Even in the Qianzhan Continent, there was such a thing as a fair fight. Sometimes people even tried to live up to those ideals. When Muchen saw the cruel glint in Hong’s eye, though, he knew that this wasn’t going to end nearly so well.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything Muchen could do. He was halfway across the room from the fight, and he was a guest on foreign territory besides. All he could do was watch as Hong casually tugged Junfeng’s arm out to full extension before bringing his other forearm around to land a brutal strike near Junfeng’s elbow.

Junfeng’s arm bent back the wrong way with a wet snap of breaking bone.