WebNovels

Chapter 4 - Chapter 4 — The Power of a Single Fist (Ye Fan Staggered)

Ye Fan's smile curled inward, smug and calculating. In his estimation, Jiang Wang was talented and certainly powerful, but he lacked any extraordinary physique or root bone. The Supreme Immortal Bone — once unleashed — would be more than enough to crush him.

What Ye Fan didn't know was that Jiang Wang had already awakened something far fiercer: the Immortal Bone of Creation — a willful, domineering power that eclipsed even the Supreme Immortal Bone.

"If the Son of God insists on a duel, then so be it. I'll trade blows with him for a few moves," Ye Fan said with feigned humility. Surrounded by Jiang Xundao and the clan elders, he dared not display the contempt he felt inside.

Jiang Wang's lips curved into a thin, savage smile when Ye Fan agreed. Old debts and old betrayals flashed through his mind. You stripped my bones in that former life, he thought. Now I will return the favor.

He turned to the sky and cupped his fists toward Jiang Xundao. "Father, please erect a barrier for our match. No interference."

A tremor passed through Jiang Xundao. The boy's gaze — cold, steady as a constellation — had an authority that shook him. He nodded. "Very well. With me here, you may compete without worry."

A translucent ring of light sealed them in. Outside, the elders fell silent; inside, the fight began.

"Are you ready?" Jiang Wang asked, his voice flat as steel.

Ye Fan tried to steady himself, but something in Jiang Wang's eyes made his chest tighten — an animal certainty, as if he were already a step beyond life and death. He forced calm and returned the question with one of his own. "The promise you made to Sister Qingxuan — it still stands? If I win, the Jiang family's resources will be ours?"

"It stands," Jiang Wang said without hesitation.

Ye Fan exhaled and adopted a fighting stance. He needed to unsettle Jiang Wang, to rattle the young man's focus. If Li Qingxuan — his would-be bride — could be leveraged, perhaps Jiang Wang would unravel.

But Jiang Wang had frozen that part of himself. The boy's emotions were locked, his demeanor austere. Where Ye Fan expected flinching or longing, he met only indifference. It unnerved him.

Before Ye Fan could move properly, Jiang Wang had already blurred forward. The first punch came like a falling star — sudden, unstoppable. It hit Ye Fan's face with the force of a slammed boulder.

Ye Fan barely guarded in time; the impact threw him back as if a beast had struck him. The world tilted. His arms tingled with numbness; his vision swam. For a moment he couldn't reconcile what had happened. One blow — that was all it took to send him reeling.

He had been reasonable in his calculations: Jiang Wang had talent, but not extraordinary bone. Yet everything Ye Fan had assumed collapsed the instant that fist connected. Jiang Wang's body, honed by the Immortal Bone of Creation and tempered through every plane of cultivation, was something else entirely.

Jiang Wang struck again, and the memory of past betrayals sharpened into a cold, honed rage: the Jiang clan's ruin, his bones dug out, the brothers and sisters stripped to dust. Images of the previous life were a blade at his throat; they cleared his mind and focused his strength until it felt like the world itself answered his will.

This time Ye Fan was ready. He managed to evade the head-on blow and disappear from the immediate arc of attack, but he hadn't escaped undamaged. A subsequent punch from Jiang Wang shattered part of the barrier with a thunderous crack — an omen that silenced even the elders.

Jiang Xundao and the other elders exchanged astonished looks. Jiang Xundao's barrier was no trifling shield; he had surpassed the six ordinary realms of cultivation long ago. For a mere youth to crack it so readily was unheard-of.

"The Son of God's body is terrifying — to have such power at this level of cultivation!" murmured one elder. "His future will be boundless."

Jiang Xundao, after a long pause, rubbed his beard and allowed himself a dry smile. "May the Jiang clan endure for ten thousand years."

Li Qingxuan, watching with the rest, had neither grasped the source of Jiang Wang's strength nor felt the true terror of the blow. Her concern was simple and selfish: she wanted Ye Fan to win. "Come on, Brother Ye Fan!" she cried, too loud.

The elders' eyes snapped to her in cold rebuke; Jiang Xundao's face betrayed only mild disdain. In his calculations, this woman no longer merited place beside the Jiang family.

Inside the barrier, Ye Fan sneered. "Son of God," he called, "are you sure you called your fiancée by the wrong name? Why is she cheering for me?"

He meant to needle Jiang Wang, to dredge up whatever feelings still chained him to Li Qingxuan. The plan was to split Jiang Wang's attention, to make his blows sloppy.

But Jiang Wang's calm never wavered. His gaze toward Li Qingxuan was distant and empty, as if she were a relic. That implacable indifference unnerved Ye Fan, who had counted on emotion to break his foe.

Another exchange of fists erupted. Jiang Wang's punches were crisp and inexorable; they carried a contained, crushing intent that made Ye Fan's knees threaten to buckle. At one collision, Ye Fan put his whole body into the defense — and still he was driven back three paces, his face draining of color as a hot flush crept across his skin. Pain laced his limbs; the taste of iron filled his mouth.

This was the widening gulf between mere technique and the fusion of body and spirit. Jiang Wang had refined every one of the six realms — Qi Induction, Body Tempering, Copper Skin, Jade Bones, Burning Blood, and Soul Combination — until they formed a single, seamless machine. His will was the temper; his fists were the hammer.

Ye Fan's face grew hard. He could feel the Supreme Immortal Bone humming within him — runes of old power nestling in his chest. To unleash it in full might risked tearing at the foundation of his path; to hold back meant certain defeat. Yet the prize dangled before him: the Jiang clan's troves, elixirs and treasures that could restore any lost foundation.

A merciless calculation hardened inside him. If the cost was fracture and damage to his Dao, then he would take it. For power, for resources, for the chance to rise far above his current station — he would gamble everything.

He tightened his grip, feeling the bone's runic heat flare. The duel was no longer about honor or promise; it had become a crucible. Outside the barrier, watchers leaned forward. Inside, two wills collided — one a steady, cold creation; the other a desperate, burning hunger.

And in the brief pause before the next exchange, each man tasted what victory might demand of him.

More Chapters