Xuan Yan recognized him instantly.
The same bastard who had challenged him over and over again. The same one who'd taken his points and laughed while doing it.
"Junior Wu," Xuan Yan said, forcing a weak smile though his heart sank. "You're quite fast… you caught me again."
Inside, his thoughts churned bitterly.
Wu Chen, grandson of Elder Wu Hang—the same old bastard who lets his bratty grandson bully me every fucking week.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He knew exactly what was coming.
From the crowd, a tall, bulky disciple stepped forward, cracking his knuckles with a grin.
"Senior Wu," the brute said, glancing back at Wu Chen. "You can't fight him. You're already at the Seventh Layer. Let me fight him—I'll defeat him."
Another voice spoke up, this one belonging to a leaner, sharper-looking disciple who stepped beside Wu Chen.
"No, let me do it. I'll be the one to defeat him."
The crowd around them burst into low laughter and murmurs.
"Haha, Senior Xuan Yan's done for. He can't win even if he fights one of them."
"Yeah, that's why he's the trash of Heavenly Palace."
"Who the hell let him into the sect anyway? Should've kicked him out years ago."
"Haha, don't worry. He's only got four months left before his three years are up. After that, he'll be kicked out for sure."
The laughter spread like wildfire, cruel and shameless.
Xuan Yan stood in the middle of the circle, silent. His fists were trembling. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt.
He could take the pain. He could take the beatings. But what burned him most… was the fucking humiliation.
He lifted his eyes, looking straight at Wu Chen, who was smiling like a fox.
One day, Xuan Yan thought coldly, I'll make you all fucking kneel.
Wu Chen looked at the two disciples who had stepped forward, both eager to beat Xuan Yan bloody for some cheap glory. His lips curled into a smirk as he turned his gaze toward the bulky one.
"You'll fight him," Wu Chen said lazily, flicking his fan open with a snap. "If you defeat him within ten moves, I'll give you a reward."
The bulky disciple's grin widened. He cracked his knuckles again and walked forward, his heavy steps making the ground tremble faintly. Stopping just a few paces in front of Xuan Yan, he clasped his fists mockingly and said with a crooked smile,
"Senior Brother Xuan, please… give me some guidance."
His tone dripped with fake respect. The crowd chuckled, whispering among themselves.
This bulky guy was at Qi Refining Fifth Layer, two whole layers above Xuan Yan.
Xuan Yan stared at him quietly, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he gave a faint, almost bitter smile.
"Well," he said, voice low but steady, "if junior wants guidance, I'll give him some."
Not far away, hidden in the thick branches of a tree, the masked girl from the Hall of Contribution sat silently, her purple robe swaying slightly with the breeze. Her cold eyes observed the scene below.
"So, he's fighting again," she murmured softly. "This will be his one hundred forty-eighth fight. The results of the previous one hundred forty-seven were all defeats… looks like the one hundred forty-eighth won't be any different."
Her voice carried neither mockery nor pity—just calm observation.
Down below, Xuan Yan and the bulky disciple faced each other. Their gazes locked, their bodies tense. Dust drifted lazily in the air between them.
The watching disciples started shouting.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"The loser will stay the loser!"
"Haha, he's gonna eat dirt again!"
Xuan Yan's fists clenched. His anger simmered, but he didn't let it cloud his mind. He'd been mocked too many times to react to every word.
Wu Chen stood a few meters away, his fan still open, the picture of smug authority.
"Begin," he said lightly.
The instant the word left his lips, both Xuan Yan and the bulky disciple lunged forward, their fists cutting through the air.
BOOM!
When their fists collided, a shockwave of raw energy rippled through the air, kicking up dust. For a split second, the power seemed even—but then Xuan Yan's body jerked backward violently.
The difference in strength was too much.
He flew back several meters before landing on his feet, sliding across the dirt and leaving deep tracks as he tried to steady himself. His robe whipped around him, his arms trembling from the impact.
He barely had time to breathe.
The bulky guy was gone from sight.
Xuan Yan's eyes widened, his spiritual sense flaring—then he felt it. A sudden surge of energy from his left.
Before he could even turn his head—
BAM!
A brutal punch smashed into the side of his face.
Xuan Yan flew like a ragdoll, crashing face-first into the ground before the cheering crowd. Dirt filled his mouth, and his nose began to bleed instantly.
The disciples watching stepped back slightly, forming a wider circle so they wouldn't get caught in the fight. Some were laughing, some shaking their heads.
Flat on the ground, Xuan Yan groaned, his hands trembling as he pushed himself up. Blood dripped down his chin, but his eyes still burned with stubborn defiance.
Wu Chen chuckled, tapping his fan against his shoulder.
"Senior Brother Xuan," he called out with a grin, "just give up already. Otherwise, he's gonna beat you so bad you won't even recognize your own fucking face."
The crowd laughed harder, their voices echoing through the courtyard.
But Xuan Yan didn't answer. He simply wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, spat to the side, and stood again.
His fists clenched. His back straightened.
He wasn't done yet.
The bulky guy had already used two moves—only eight left.
But everyone in the crowd, including Wu Chen himself, knew one thing clearly—defeating Xuan Yan within ten moves was never easy.
He was weak, yes. His cultivation was low, yes. But his will to fight? That was iron. Even when beaten half to death, the bastard just wouldn't stay down.
The bulky guy's grin twisted into a scowl as he watched Xuan Yan slowly rise again, blood dripping from his nose, his arms trembling but his eyes still sharp.
"You just don't fucking quit, do you?" the bulky guy growled.
He dashed forward, his feet pounding against the dirt, and threw a vicious punch straight toward Xuan Yan's ribs.
Xuan Yan reacted instantly, stepping back just in time. The bulky guy's fist cut through the air, missing by an inch.
Before Xuan Yan could breathe, the bulky guy's leg shot up in a sharp kick aimed right for his face.
CRACK!
The blow landed perfectly.
Xuan Yan's head snapped back. Blood sprayed from his nose and mouth as his body lifted off the ground. He flew backward, crashing through the crowd and slamming hard into a tree trunk with a sickening thud.
The world went silent for a second—then erupted in cheers.
"Yeeeeh! He won!"
"Haha, told you! Senior Xuan's a fucking loser!"
"He can't even beat his juniors!"
"148 losses! He's the sect's biggest joke!"
Wu Chen smirked, folding his fan. The bulky disciple laughed and strutted over to where Xuan Yan lay motionless on the ground.
Kneeling beside him, the bulky guy pulled out Xuan Yan's white token and held it near his own brown token. A faint glow passed between them—three contribution points transferred.
When it was done, he tossed Xuan Yan's token onto the dirt beside him like trash.
"Trash should stay trash," he muttered.
Then, with Wu Chen at the front and the cheering disciples behind him, they all walked away, leaving Xuan Yan lying unconscious beneath the tree, blood dripping onto the dust.
For a long moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the leaves.
Then, from the shadows, a figure appeared.
The girl in the purple robe and black mask descended from the tree branch she had been sitting on. Her robe swayed softly as she landed beside Xuan Yan's still body.
She knelt down, her movements quiet and graceful. From her space ring, she took out a book and a fine brush, and began to write on the open page.
Registered Disciple Xuan Yan:
Fights Lost – 148
Fights Won – 0
Total Fights – 148
When she finished, she closed the book, placed it back into her ring, and then took out a small bottle of pills—the same kind she had left for him every time he was beaten.
She set the bottle gently beside him.
Huff… this guy, she thought with a quiet sigh.
She turned her masked face toward the brightening sky.
When he first joined the sect, he was amazing. Watching him fight used to be exciting. But three years ago, his cultivation stopped. What an unlucky boy… still, Master always said he would return one day—with power that would shake the heavens. Where the hell is that power now?
Her robe fluttered once more as she took a few steps forward—and vanished into thin air.