Chapter Forty-Three: Battle for All

Yang Fan stood on the stage, watching the lively crowd around him, yet his own surroundings remained cold and desolate. Anxiety crept up within him. Was this some kind of joke? If no one came to challenge him, how could he win? How could he defend the stage ten times? How could he fight for first place? He looked around, worry spreading through his heart bit by bit. This wouldn't do; he needed to think of a solution.

Meanwhile, on the second floor of the arena, Zhou Haifeng, Xiao Minghe, and others were watching Yang Fan scratch his head below, laughing heartily.

“Look at that kid, he’s sweating! That expression—doesn’t he look constipated?” Zhou Haifeng roared with laughter. He was in a much better mood now. Yesterday, this brat had caused his daughter such misery—her hair was gone, and this morning Zhou Haifeng had to restore it himself in the infirmary using his own energy. The thought of an eighth-rank master having to reconnect hair made his face darken; but since it was his own daughter, he had no choice.

Yet now, seeing Yang Fan’s predicament below, Zhou Haifeng felt a sense of vengeance fulfilled.

“That’s right, look how anxious he is—his head is shaking like a rattle,” Xiao Minghe chimed in, eager to enjoy the spectacle. Seeing Yang Fan uncomfortable made him feel all the more comfortable.

Zhang Weiguo watched silently, a smile on his face, his gaze fixed on Yang Fan. He doubted the boy would keep scratching his head for long—he was bound to do something soon.

And sure enough, Yang Fan suddenly drew his long blade and charged toward the nearest stage.

“What’s he up to now?” shouted Xiao Minghe and Zhou Haifeng.

“He’s about to stir things up!” they exclaimed.

Zhang Weiguo, however, wasn’t surprised. This kid had exposed his abilities yesterday just to win; now, for victory, what wouldn’t he dare?

...

Yang Fan, blade in hand, swung fiercely at Mu Qingshan. Mu Qingshan cursed aloud. This guy again—always like this! Did he look that easy to bully? Watching the blade approach, Mu Qingshan felt a deep sense of indignation. Why him? Why was he always targeted? This was a stage match; everyone fought their own battles. It wasn’t even the ranking round yet—what was Yang Fan doing?

But Yang Fan wasn’t thinking that far ahead. With no one coming to challenge him, he would challenge others instead—one by one, defeating them all, so that no one could deny his victory.

Mu Qingshan raised his sword. Over the past few days, he’d resolved not to defend passively against Yang Fan anymore; he would attack proactively. He’d tried defending before—only to be knocked down by two strikes. Maybe attacking would bring a different outcome.

The clash of blade and sword shattered Mu Qingshan’s momentum. Yang Fan’s blade pressed hard, and Mu Qingshan tried to defend, but Yang Fan’s overwhelming force sent him stumbling to the ground. Without even glancing at Mu Qingshan, Yang Fan turned and rushed toward the next stage.

Mu Qingshan sat on the ground, his eyes red. Last time, he’d been taken down in two moves; this time, one was all it took.

Mu Qingshan felt he could no longer show his face.

Jiang Xiaoyi had just finished another match, easily victorious. Among the freshmen, there were few second-rankers—just a handful, most guarding stages. The first-rankers stood little chance against Jiang Xiaoyi’s superior level.

But something felt off to Jiang Xiaoyi. Someone familiar was running toward her—no, he was wielding a blade. Damn, was he coming to attack her?

Her reaction was quick; sensing danger, she raised her broad-backed blade. The blade was the king’s path, always charging forward, and Jiang Xiaoyi was no exception. She lifted her blade, calculated Yang Fan’s position and speed, and swung.

But to Yang Fan, it all seemed slow. Calmly, he adjusted his trajectory, and as Jiang Xiaoyi’s strike missed, he slammed the back of his blade against her.

A dull thud—Jiang Xiaoyi performed a perfect face-plant. Yang Fan didn’t pause, moving on to his next target.

Tan Hao was making his final stand. All those guarding stages were now second-rank warriors. As a first-rank, he had little hope of advancing, but Tan Hao was determined to fight. He’d attacked Xie Sihua before; why fear someone who’d only recently reached second rank?

Just as Tan Hao, exhausted, was about to collapse, Yang Fan arrived. Without a word, Yang Fan struck with his blade. The second-rank opponent didn’t even react before the back of the blade landed on his neck, knocking him out cold.

Tan Hao was stunned. What just happened? As he regained his senses and watched Yang Fan move to the next stage, happiness bubbled within him. Wasn’t this lucky? He was about to lose, but his friend came and finished his opponent in one blow—what could be better?

Yang Fan hadn’t thought much about it. He didn’t attack Tan Hao because they were friends—and because Tan Hao was too weak, it made no difference. Yang Fan’s plan was to defeat all the second-rank warriors, so no one could claim he wasn’t the best.

No challengers? He would challenge everyone.

Now, the other stage guardians had noticed Yang Fan. This guy had rampaged through several stages—clearly on a path to defy all odds. Just because he’d awakened his abilities didn’t mean they’d fear him.

Honestly, though, everyone felt a bit uneasy.

...

Second floor.

The three big shots from the Metropolitan Cultivation Academy watched Yang Fan rampaging below, both amused and exasperated.

Zhang Weiguo was more composed; he’d expected Yang Fan to stir things up.

But Xiao Minghe and Zhou Haifeng were surprised. This kid was truly fierce—was he planning to fight everyone?

“Should we intervene?” Zhou Haifeng asked.

“Intervene? And how? Call him out for breaking the rules? His strength alone could earn him first place; we only had him compete so others wouldn’t complain. Now that he’s fighting everyone, once he beats them all, there won’t be any objections. Why interfere?” Zhang Weiguo replied.

Originally, Yang Fan wasn’t meant to participate in this final round, but the leaders worried about public opinion, so he took the stage. No one anticipated that an awakened one would inspire such fear.

Earlier, they’d lamented how the new generation of cultivators lacked courage, unwilling to fight. If only they knew the real reason—no one wanted to end up bald like Zhou Yiyi—they might have felt differently.

The battles continued. While the leaders conversed, Yang Fan conquered two more stages. He’d now broken through five, including his own; only four remained. He was starting to feel out of breath. Despite his quick and decisive victories—never dragging things out, relying solely on his ability to perceive weaknesses and attack paths—each strike cost him considerable stamina. His vitality was already down by a third.

Jiang Chao, gripping his spear, awaited Yang Fan’s arrival. Jiang Chao had fought three matches already; his energy was waning.

Yet Yang Fan’s aggressive approach spurred him on. The previous five guardians had all been defeated outright—he refused to be humiliated like that. Even if he lost, he wanted to withstand at least one move.

As Yang Fan approached, Jiang Chao nervously rubbed his spear. When Yang Fan raised his blade, Jiang Chao shouted, “Starbreaker!” and thrust his spear like a dragon.

Yang Fan, seeing the spear tip rush at him, ducked low, body springing forward. In a blink, Jiang Chao lost sight of him. When Yang Fan reappeared, Jiang Chao was already on the ground. Yang Fan’s flash-step had thrown Jiang Chao off, and a second burst sent him past Jiang Chao’s side. This time, Yang Fan didn’t use his blade—he punched Jiang Chao in the abdomen. Jiang Chao collapsed like a shrimp.

So much for avoiding embarrassment; Yang Fan made it clear that was impossible.

The entire arena erupted. Yang Fan was conquering stage after stage—was he defying heaven itself? Everyone acknowledged his combat prowess, but now, all the stage guardians were second-rank warriors. Seeing Yang Fan take them down one by one, some with a blade, others with a punch, was unbelievable.

Especially the older students, who’d experienced the power of second rank, now found Yang Fan unfathomable. He didn’t seem to do anything special—just swung left and right—yet every time, he found his opponent’s weakness and avoided their attacks. That was remarkable! Achieving maximum victory with minimal effort was what every cultivator aspired to.

Was he a born warrior, with such an extraordinary battle instinct?

...

The battles raged on. Even the referee mentors were at a loss. Never in all these years had they seen such a situation. No student had ever dared to challenge everyone at once. Even in later ranking rounds, not everyone fought the remaining opponents.

Yet right before their eyes, a madman had appeared.

The referee had watched Yang Fan’s performance these past few days. He was impressive—except for his bout with Zhou Yiyi, where he was drawn into her rhythm, but otherwise, Yang Fan had done exceptionally well. Among this year’s freshmen, he was outstanding.

By now, Yang Fan had conquered another stage.

The only female among the ten stage guardians.

Chang Xianghong watched Yang Fan leave, eyes red. Her lingering resentment was palpable, even as he departed.

He truly hadn’t meant it. He’d planned to go easy on her, seeing she was a girl, but she fought desperately, wielding her dagger in close combat. Yang Fan dared not use his blade at such close range, fearing injury—this was a competition, not a life-or-death duel. They were classmates, not enemies. Yet she pressed on relentlessly, each move aimed at a vital point. Eventually Yang Fan snapped, dropped his blade, and began fighting with his fists. Though he hadn’t formally trained in boxing, he was well-versed in street fighting from childhood.

His final punch struck Chang Xianghong’s chest, leaving her breathless and defeated.

Yang Fan had wanted to apologize, especially for hitting an inappropriate spot, but Chang Xianghong’s resentful gaze made him hesitate.

The best strategy was retreat, and Yang Fan was quite adept at that.