### Chapter 51: This Is How You Fight!
The wind howled across the clearing as Mu Rongfeng's spell reached its peak. Spiritual energy swirled into a tornado of razor-sharp wind blades, each glowing with a sickly green light—the taint of the Burning Void Pill, twisting even the air into a weapon. This was *Wind Vortex of Annihilation*, a Seventh Level technique he'd spent years mastering, now amplified by stolen power.
"Die!" he roared, unleashing the vortex. It tore across the ground, uprooting grass and stones, its path a straight line to Lin Yi.
The crowd screamed. Steward Zhang's拳头 slammed into the stone table, cracking it. "Run, you fool!"
But Lin Yi didn't run. He planted his feet, his aura shifting—no longer the calm cultivator, but a coiled storm. The *Five Spirits Body Tempering Technique* surged through his veins, his muscles rippling as power flooded his limbs. This wasn't spiritual energy—it was raw, unadulterated strength, forged through months of tempering flesh, bones, and meridians.
He didn't form hand seals. He didn't chant incantations. He just *moved*.
Dodging the first wave of wind blades, he closed the distance in three leaping steps, his fist cocked back. The vortex screeched, slamming into his shoulder—but instead of tearing through him, the blades *shattered* against his skin, as if striking steel.
Mu Rongfeng's eyes widened. "What kind of monster are you?"
"One who's tired of your tricks," Lin Yi growled, driving his fist into Mu Rongfeng's gut.
*Crack!*
Mu Rongfeng doubled over, spitting up a mouthful of blood. The Wind Vortex wavered, its power faltering as his focus broke. But he rallied, slamming a palm into Lin Yi's chest—*Palm of Crushing Mountain*, a technique that could shatter boulders.
Lin Yi staggered back, but his grin only widened. "Nice try."
He lunged again, this time with his signature Iron Sand Palm. Years of training, boosted by the *Five Spirits Technique*, turned his palms into weapons deadlier than any sword. He struck Mu Rongfeng's arm, and there was a sickening crunch as bones snapped.
Mu Rongfeng howled, clutching his mangled arm. "Cheat! You're using some forbidden art! This isn't fair!"
"Fair?" Lin Yi laughed, landing another palm to Mu Rongfeng's ribs. "You burned your life force for power, and *I'm* the cheat? Spare me the tears, traitor."
The word "traitor" slipped out before he could stop it. Mu Rongfeng's eyes went wide, a flicker of panic crossing his face—*he knows*.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Lin Yi was on him, a whirlwind of fists and palms. He didn't bother with spells or finesse; this was street-fight brutality, honed from years of scrapping in market alleys. Elbow to the jaw, knee to the thigh, palm strike to the chest—each hit landed with a thunderous crack.
The crowd fell silent, horrified and fascinated. This wasn't cultivation combat. This was a beatdown.
Steward Qiao's mouth hung open. "He's… fighting like a mortal thug. But… how is this working?"
Elder Guan leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "That's no forbidden art. That's *body tempering*. Extreme, unheard-of body tempering. His flesh is stronger than spiritual shields."
Mu Rongfeng, bloodied and broken, tried to fight back. He unleashed what was left of his spiritual energy, firing off weak fireballs that Lin Yi swatted away like flies. The Burning Void Pill's power was fading, leaving him hollow—his meridians burning, his strength draining.
"Please… stop…" he gasped, collapsing to his knees.
Lin Yi paused, staring down at him. "Stop? When you were planning to kill me? When you sold the sect out to that hunchbacked creep?"
Mu Rongfeng's eyes bulged. "You—"
Lin Yi drove a palm into his chest. Not to kill, but to hurt—to make him feel every ounce of pain he'd inflicted. "This is for the disciples you bullied." Another palm. "For the secrets you sold." Another. "For thinking you could get away with it."
*Crack!* *Crack!* *Crack!*
Bone shattering, ribs caving, Mu Rongfeng's screams turned to gurgles. The crowd winced, some turning away, but no one dared intervene. The life-and-death oath hung heavy in the air—this was sanctioned.
Finally, Lin Yi stepped back, chest heaving. Mu Rongfeng lay motionless, his body a mangled mess, his eyes wide with terror. He was dead, not from a flashy spell, but from a hundred brutal blows.
Lin Yi spat on the ground, wiping blood from his knuckles. "See that?" he yelled, loud enough for the whole clearing to hear. "All your fancy spells, all your stolen power—worthless. This is how you fight. Not with tricks, not with pills. With *fists*. With *blood*. With *wanting it more*."
The crowd stared, stunned. Then—slowly—cheers erupted.
"Lin Yi! Lin Yi!"
"That's how you do it!"
"Seventh Level? Pfft! Our Lin Yi's a beast!"
Steward Zhang let out a shaky laugh, wiping sweat from his brow. "That damn kid… he's not just strong. He's *insane*. In the best way."
Steward Qiao nodded, a new respect in his eyes. "Body tempering to counter Seventh Level spells… I've never heard of such a thing. He's not just a prodigy. He's a revolution."
Elder Guan stood, clapping slowly. "Well fought, Lin Yi. The outer sect tournament… has never seen a champion like you."
Lin Yi turned, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. The cheers, the awe, the fear—he drank it in, but it didn't satisfy. There was still the hunchbacked man, still the conspiracy Mu Rongfeng died to protect.
But for now, he raised a fist, blood dripping from his knuckles. "Next stop," he muttered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Core disciples."
The crowd roared louder.
Lin Yi smiled. Let them cheer. Let them wonder. He'd shown them how *he* fought. Now it was time to show the core disciples what a Five Spiritual Roots "废物 (trash)" could really do.
This was just the beginning.