Chapter Twenty: Thunderous Melody

Clang!

The sound of metal striking metal rang out, clear and lingering.

Chen Yu wielded the long sword in his hand with fierce momentum—though far from the grace of famed swordsmen, he could at least exchange blows with his opponent without falling behind. At the same time, his fists and kicks continued to rain down, dodging the opponent’s staff when possible, and using the sword to block when he couldn’t. For a moment, the good sword in his hand was forcibly employed as a shield.

To say his technique was entirely unrefined would be unfair, but it was certainly hard on the eyes.

“…,” not far away, Qian Xuanzhong’s face was sullen, his eyes wide with disbelief, mouth open as if to speak but unable to find the words.

Chen, my friend, that is not how a sword should be used!

The sword is the gentleman of all weapons—upright, dignified, and majestic. With a single flash of cold light, it chills the air like a March frost.

Yet now, Chen Yu ducked and dodged, at times scrambling in retreat, fending off attacks in a most ungainly fashion.

It seemed he was even less formidable than before; having a sword in hand seemed only to weaken him.

“Layman Qian, perhaps it would be better for Chen to focus on fist and palm techniques in the future,” Daoist Jiang interjected, unable to watch any longer.

Such swordsmanship—hardly anyone present could praise it honestly.

They glanced at the hero who had so chivalrously tossed Chen Yu the sword. That man now stood behind his companion, covering his face with one hand as if mourning the fate of his treasured blade.

Regardless of what others thought, Chen Yu was thoroughly enjoying himself. Amidst his agile maneuvers, he occasionally displayed martial skills like the “Spirit Ape Arm” from the Cloud Crane Technique. The sword became a secondary tool—when a staff swept toward him, he would slice it aside, the blade gliding along the wood to deflect it.

It was both efficient and simple.

Not bad, not bad.

The longer Chen Yu fought, the more skillful he became. In time, combining his lightfooted techniques, he began to develop a fluid sequence of movements.

For an instant, the crowd below seemed to see a wild crane flitting through the mountains, swiftly dodging and dashing among the rocks and trees.

But… was it really a crane? No matter how they looked, everyone agreed it resembled more a clumsy goose charging blindly ahead.

At this moment, the situation on the field changed.

With a resonant thud, the staff, level with his brows, was suddenly wrenched from its wielder’s grasp by Chen Yu. This was no ordinary feat; the man was a seasoned staff master, gripping his weapon tightly, fully aware of the consequences of letting it slip.

The others took little notice, but the staff master himself felt a chill of alarm. As expected, in the next instant, a fist shot through his guard, tendons and bones snapping with power, breaking through all resistance. Without his staff, the martial instructor’s remaining techniques were mediocre at best.

Whoosh!

The punch stopped, but the wind from its force brushed his face. The staff master sighed ruefully, clasped his hands in defeat, and bowed.

“Daoist, your skills… are formidable.”

Especially that final, indescribable swordplay—he knew firsthand there was no way to win. He simply could not pin his opponent down; every swing of his staff was deflected.

What’s more, this Daoist’s stamina was extraordinary—after a lengthy bout, the staff master was gasping for breath, while Chen Yu looked completely unfazed.

It was worth noting that the young Daoist had already fought several rounds before this!

With that realization, the staff master’s respect deepened. Strength, talent—this was a man destined to become a renowned master.

He turned and left, while Chen Yu, reluctant to end, returned the long sword to the chivalrous hero below.

The man received it in a daze, as if unsure what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t lent his sword, perhaps Chen Yu would have won even more easily?

…

He won?

How did he win?

Daoist Jiang was speechless—Chen had truly surprised them. Still, it was not without explanation.

The staff master possessed refined internal energy, but all his strength was vested in the staff, lending little power to his strikes without it—especially against another master of subtle internal force.

Unless one side could project their force outward.

Yet “a fist striking three inches deep, pinning a man like a nail”—such feats are not easily accomplished, which is why they're the mark of true experts.

Glancing at his side, Daoist Jiang paused. Qian Xuanzhong was flexing his hands eagerly, clearly tempted to step forward.

But in the end, he refrained.

“Chen has fought long and hard—challenging him now would not be the conduct of a true martial artist.”

As they spoke, another figure pushed through the crowd.

The two glanced over, their expressions instantly turning serious.

“Daoist, it seems our friend Chen’s matches are about to conclude.”

“Indeed. Layman Qian, are you free afterward? I’d like to find a quiet place for a discussion with you both.”

“Of course, but first I must seek out a few martial artists for a little sparring.”

“Hahaha, there’s no need for so much trouble. I know quite a few Daoist brothers in the sect—I’d be happy to make introductions.”

“Oh? Then I must thank you, Daoist.”

The two muttered on, while the crowd in the cleared arena buzzed with excitement.

Chen Yu centered himself, focusing on his breathing.

Though his endurance far exceeded the average man, this was no place to replenish his energy with elixirs; he had to recover naturally.

He stilled his mind because the newcomer, though unassuming, radiated a commanding presence.

“Little Daoist, I am Chen Yuanhu.”

The man introduced himself, not particularly burly, but standing before him as immovable as a mountain.

His energy was whole and harmonious. With a flick of his finger, the air trembled, and a piercing whine emanated from between his fingers.

Dragon-Tiger Gate! Celestial Energy!

A master of internal force—such a figure was known in the martial world as a second-rate expert!

Chen Yu sized him up, then glanced at the long-bearded Daoist at his side with a curved blade at his waist.

Were these two to compete?

Looking around, Chen Yu realized all the other arenas were occupied—only his was free.

They wanted him to yield the field, to make way for their duel… It made sense, especially since the man had just demonstrated his power upon arrival.

Thinking quickly, Chen Yu clasped his hands in salute, planting his feet firmly.

For the first time, he solemnly announced his name.

“Chen Yu? So you’re a clansman—ha! Then we must have a good chat, little Daoist. Talents like you are rare, even in all of Xizhou.”

After a few words, and seeing Chen Yu unmoved, Chen Yuanhu realized his intent. Perhaps he was simply too young to know fear.

“Such courage.”

Familiar words, spoken with genuine admiration—but this time, from someone with the right to say them.

Without further words, Chen Yu’s heart pounded like a drum, focus sharpened—facing a master of higher internal force, he dared not be careless.

Silently, his five viscera trembled as he activated his Spirit Invocation Technique, suppressing his focus, gathering strength.

He did not expect to win with a single shout. With memories of his previous life, Chen Yu was well aware of the gap between second and third-tier fighters. He might catch his opponent off guard, but to secure victory that way would be wishful thinking.

Fortunately, he still had a chance.

“Three times—at full strength, I can unleash the sonic attack three times at most.”

Originally, his sonic attack only worked twice. Later, by combining it with mental focus and his five viscera, he managed to stretch it to three.

On the field, Chen Yuanhu unsheathed his broadsword. Unlike the previous contestant, he was not only skilled in swordplay, but his body was also toughened by rigorous training—making him fearless.

“Come!!”

If it was a contest, he would properly instruct this young man—a chance to guide a promising junior.

Just as he thought this, he saw the Daoist step forward, taking the initiative against a second-rate expert.

“Bold!” Chen Yuanhu brought his palm down.

The hallmark of Celestial Energy is the ability to gather force across the entire body in an instant, channeling it through a single strike.

He moved with the power to topple mountains and overturn pillars, his palm surging with an overwhelming wave, like a muddy tide crashing down.

Thud!

Chen Yu’s footwork was nimble—he barely dodged as the blow shattered the ground beside him, dust flying. He spun and punched, but felt as if he’d struck solid rock. With a resounding crash, he retreated swiftly to the side.

So tough.

Far beyond that brute Xu Sanguai.

But he did not give up; indeed, without pause, he closed in once more.

Bang, bang, bang!

Fist and palm collided, the air rippling with their force.

Boom!

Vital energy flared like a beacon. Chen Yuanhu grinned fiercely, arms clamping shut as one struck empty air with a dull thud, the other crashing into Chen Yu with a crack. Before he could react, Chen Yu was sent flying.

The crowd parted, leaving an even wider clearing.

Chen Yu staggered to his feet, his arm limp, brow furrowed.

Others might think he was in pain, but that was not the case.

Why did I choose to fight with fists and feet first?

Suddenly, Chen Yu realized he’d been swept up in the atmosphere, or perhaps, after several victories, had grown overconfident—actually thinking he could match a master of internal force with fists and kicks.

He remembered his true purpose: to test his martial skills. In the previous rounds, he had already used most of the defensive techniques from the Cloud Crane Method.

In that case, there was no need to continue as before.

It was time to use the Transforming Sound Technique.

He realized he’d been influenced by the martial artists present, fighting so desperately—was he really going to wait until the last moment to try a sonic reversal?

He should have used it at once.

No longer hesitating, Chen Yu steeled himself, endured the pain, and advanced once more.

“Good lad! You’ve got guts!” Chen Yuanhu praised. As he prepared to subdue Chen Yu with another palm strike, he noticed the young man’s lips tightly shut, his abdomen swelling and contracting.

What’s this…

In the next instant, Chen Yu bounded forward, closing the distance. Before his opponent could retreat, he let out a thunderous shout:

[Hmm]

A reverberating boom, as if thunder had erupted from a clear sky, pierced the ears!

Chen Yuanhu’s pupils contracted, his body shuddered involuntarily, and before he could react, his mind was plunged into confusion, his vision spinning.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his internal energy through his body, breaking free from the sudden dizziness, and was about to step back—when from Chen Yu’s mouth came another resounding note:

[Zhu]

A muffled thunder rolled, shaking his heart—

Tiger and Leopard Thunderclap!

In an instant, the martial veteran of decades thought of this technique—but something was different. The Tiger and Leopard Thunderclap, as described in ancient texts, was an internal cultivation method, not meant to daunt or disorient an opponent’s mind.

This boy… was something uncanny!