Chapter 155 (Patreon)

Getting punched in the face was a truly universal experience, whether one was a mortal or a cultivator. The brief moment of clarity before one’s thoughts were rocked in every direction was the same. The weightlessness as one’s body gave out was the same. The way the eyes took in everything and nothing at all was the same. Clipping the unbreakable stairs of the pyramid and cracking open the skull was the sa— no actually that wasn’t very normal.

A snarled qi-filled roar from the Yellow Dragon shocked Chen Haoran’s nerves and painfully dragged him back to reality, and he woke up two whole tiers of the pyramid higher than where he’d been standing before. His head was a riot of sensations, at once cold from the blood escaping through the gash in his head and warm where it trickled down his face. From his jaw to his crown, there was throbbing pain that matched the beating of his heart, and yet his head felt numb overall like it had been replaced with one filled with cotton, and he was only just now realizing it. His vision swam, so he turned it inward instead, only to find the inside no clearer than the outside, his qi a golden mess of swirls and folds and slipping like sand through his grasp.

The Yellow Dragon slithered into his head, coiling like a snake prepared to strike and hissing much the same. The rioting qi was quickly put to order, and Chen Haoran could finally collect his thoughts enough to form a single coherent thought.

What the fuck?

“Huaa tha fuu?”

His attempt to string a single coherent sentence was less successful. Among the many benefits of being a cultivator was accurate self-diagnosis, and from what Chen Haoran could see, Pan Gong had punched him hard enough to break his jaw, knock out enough teeth to change his diet to baby food, fling him to the ground with enough force to fracture his skull, and somehow give his qi a concussion on top of that. All in a single punch.

Chen Haoran was only spared from a second one because Pan Gong found it more prudent to begin assaulting the archers. For all that no one seemed confident in the rebels, Chen Haoran could find no fault in their conduct. The archers closest to Pan Gong immediately dropped their bows and picked up spears while those further away focused their fire on him. Men bravely darted in, their Rattan Vine Armor unfolding and wrapping vines around Pan Gong’s limbs to yank them away and leave his chest exposed to their spears. The archers were impeccable in their accuracy, arrows falling on Pan Gong’s legs, heads, and shoulders. Their resolve was as commendable as their actions were pointless.

The spears broke, the arrows bounced off, vines groaned and tore apart as Pan Gong walked straight through them. The rebels who rushed him were alive one moment and exploded into floods of Liquid Qi the next. The vine armors expanded into grasping masses, but Pan Gong took them in hand and whipped them away like chaff.

Chen Haoran gripped his broken jaw and wrenched it back into place, running his tongue over newly grown teeth. A pulse of qi scoured the blood from his face, and he gently tested the new skin that grew over the wound to make sure the bone had filled in correctly. He blinked, and the Yellow Dragon connected their vision. Something had changed in the moment Pan Gong punched him, and through the Dragon’s eyes, Chen Haoran finally saw what.

A Liquid Meridian was a walking dam waiting to burst, their qi a reservoir that loomed larger than the cultivator containing it. Such as it was with Chen Haoran and every Liquid Meridian he’d experienced. Such as it was with Pan Gong. Was. When Chen Haoran turned his qi vision on him, Pan Gong glowed like a statue of solid gold. Gone were the rivers coursing in his meridians, and the rumbling pool collected in his core, the motion, the currents. What remained was solid and unnaturally still. His ocean of liquid qi seemingly drained away into his body as if it were a mold and cast his features into sharp relief that Chen Haoran could accurately make them out even through the Yellow Dragon’s eyes. His state was unlike any Liquid Meridian Realm Chen Haoran had ever seen. In fact, he shared more in common with the Crystal Transformation Realms outside.

Chen Haoran blinked and his vision returned to normal.

Can you still control his qi? He silently asked the Yellow Dragon. He received a low, unwilling growl in reply. That’s a no, then.

As if sensing his gaze, Pan Gong suddenly turned to look at Chen Haoran with a blank face.

Right. Armor time.

He reached a hand into his storage bag and summoned the True Reflection Mysterious Mirror Armor from his inventory space. Like all the armor he’d worn before, it came out in floating pieces. Each one caught the faint light of the secret realm and shone like stars as they swirled around and fitted themselves to his body. Pan Gong crouched low and lunged, crossing the two tiers separating them in an instant as the armor was still assembling. The Yellow Dragon loosed a furious roar and soared out of Chen Haoran’s head to catch Pan Gong in jaws of liquid qi. Pan Gong’s momentum did not falter. He backhanded the Yellow Dragon and burst it along the pyramid’s steps. The helmet had just closed around Chen Haoran’s wide eyes when Pan Gong leaped and grabbed the chest plate before it could connect.

The chest plate strained in Pan Gong’s grip, the attraction pulling it to the armor fighting with his sheer strength. Chen Haoran’s palms bloomed with green light and struck out at the same moment Pan Gong fully wrenched away the chest plate. Fifty near-simultaneous strikes hit Pan Gong’s ribs, wrist, elbow, and throat. Pan Gong ignored it all to rear back his arm and slam the armor piece onto Chen Haoran’s head. The helmet safely absorbed most of the force, but he was still thrown to the ground. It was sheer instinct that saved him from a punishing leg stomp that hit the stairs with enough force to feel the shockwave through the stones. It was followed by a lightning-fast kick to his sternum that cracked the bone and sent Chen Haoran skidding up to the next terrace.

He leapt to his feet and fed his qi into the True Reflection Mysterious Mirror Armor to familiarize himself with it. It was the first time he was using Heaven-Rank equipment and he didn’t have time to appreciate it slowly. The armor’s latent qi stirred to life and responded to the influx, and through the mixing energies, new thoughts bloomed within Chen Haoran’s mind. They weren’t quite stored memories or a user manual downloaded into his brain. It was more like an instinctual understanding of how to use the armor. Through the induction of his sense, Chen Haoran could feel that the Heaven-Rank armor not only improved on the concept of the original Earth-Rank version but could also absorb force and store it to unleash later. A very helpful feature he’d dearly like to make use of if not for the fact he needed a complete set of armor to use it fully, and Pan Gong was holding the last piece.

Before he could fully explore it, however, Pan Gong threw away the chest plate. Chen Haoran tracked where it was falling before he realized his mistake and hastily brought up his arms to block a heavy punch to his chest. Pan Gong’s fist bounced off his gauntlets, and he deftly avoided Chen Haoran’s counter with a grace unnatural for his size.

Pan Gong made a sound of surprise. “I was wondering what other trump cards you had. I didn’t expect it to be Heaven-Rank Armor. It’s a good thing that I’m the one dealing with you. The others wouldn’t be able to contain you.”

Chen Haoran grimaced behind his helmet as his own thoughts about Pan Gong were thrown back in his face.

Yellow Dragon. Yellow Liquid Qi flooded from Chen Haoran and engulfed an unmoving Pan Gong. Chen Haoran doubled the force of the river, and it spilled down the steps of the pyramid, but not only was Pan Gong not forced back, he began walking up the stairs as if it were nothing more than air.

“This is a rather amateurish use of Liquid Qi compared to what you’ve shown before,” Pan Gong said. “I suppose that wasn’t actually you. How long have you been offloading the work of your own qi to the River Spirit?”

Chen Haoran cut off the flow.

“I can’t blame you,” Pan Gong continued. “All the River Blessed get lazy like that eventually. It’s just easier. For you, in the now—”

Green light bloomed in Chen Haoran’s hands.

“—and for me, in the end.”

Pan Gong blitzed forward and leveled a quick punch into Chen Haoran’s unguarded ribs, interrupting his technique and causing him to stumble back. Pan Gong followed that up with a succession of three blows that cracked three ribs and took the wind out of him. Chen Haoran raised his arms in a block but Pan Gong palmed his helmet and pushed him backwards. It was gentle enough that the reflection of the armor was meaningless but strong enough to throw Chen Haoran off balance and open up his guard enough for Pan Gong to push past it with a powerful fist and fully break his sternum.

They were injuries that would debilitate a lesser man, but Chen Haoran left adjectives like lesser behind him a long time ago. The bones had healed right as Chen Haoran lashed out at Pan Gong’s chin. His fist fell short as Pan Gong shouldered it aside and punished Chen Haoran’s overreach with a punch he could barely see that broke off a rib and pushed it into his lung.

Chen Haoran jumped backward to try and make some distance, directing his liquid qi to powder the rib so his regeneration could do its work. He attempted to cycle qi for the Blossom-Picking Palm, but Pan Gong closed in quickly, allowing him no time to complete the technique. Chen Haoran sent a low kick into Pan Gong’s knee that he didn’t deign to avoid, instead dropping a knife-hand chop onto Chen Haoran’s collarbone and breaking it. Chen Haoran returned a quick jab into Pan Gong’s flank, only for Pan Gong to absorb the hit without breaking stride and bury his fist into Chen Haoran’s gut, doubling him over. That Chen Haoran couldn’t quite endure, coughing blood into his helmet as the shockwaves of Pan Gong’s punch caused more internal bleeding than was recommended if one wanted to live a healthy life. Or live period.

Still, it was an opportunity. Chen Haoran flooded qi to both arms until they hurt. With one, he gripped Pan Gong’s arm. With the other, he hammered heavy punches into Pan Gong’s stomach. Pan Gong grunted, and Chen Haoran found himself lifted into the air as Pan Gong easily picked him up with one hand and threw him to the next terrace. Chen Haoran landed on his feet and crouched low, prepared this time for Pan Gong’s fist, taking it on his helmet. He flexed the qi in his legs to push forward into Pan Gong’s guard but was halted in his tracks. Pan Gong’s fist had not moved from his helmet, and try as he might, Chen Haoran could not make it budge. Instead, Pan Gong’s boot was all he got for his efforts, sending him tumbling head over heels up the next two flights of stairs and leaving an inch-deep size 37 depression in his chest.

Chen Haoran barely stood up in time to avoid the next boot, and what followed was a constant retreat up the pyramid as Pan Gong continually pressured him. Far from being the best matchup for Chen Haoran among the Garrison, Pan Gong proved to be even worse than Lu Aotian. He was faster than Chen Haoran, stronger than him, tougher than him. His reach was greater. His fighting skills superior.

When Chen Haoran would try to attack him, he would either slap away his blows or power through them to land a devastating counter. When Chen Haoran tried to defend, Pan Gong would expertly pick away at his guard and deny him what little utility his armor provided. It pained him to say it but Pan Gong was like a better version of himself, with Lan Fen’s hand-to-hand combat abilities on top of it. Even if they were equal in cultivation, Chen Haoran wouldn’t be sure of winning, and Pan Gong had several Layers over him. Handle Pan Gong? What a lark. Now, Chen Haoran was hoping that Bao Si and Qiong Qi would quickly deal with Lu Aotian and come down to help him. Or maybe he would run to join them. He and Pan Gong were only three terraces away from the top of the pyramid now.

Chen Haoran somersaulted backward to avoid a blow he was sure would stop his heart if it connected and put more distance between him and Pan Gong. Two terraces now. The sound of Lu Aotian’s qi beasts grated his ears.

He breathed.

Do or die, Chen Haoran.

Green light bloomed in his hands. Pan Gong cleared the distance with infuriating ease and unleashed a pinpoint punch into his heart once more. Chen Haoran whirled around and exposed his back. The heartstopper landed uselessly on his back armor and bounced off, finally giving Chen Haoran the time he needed.

Blossom Picking Palm

Chen Haoran’s vision was suddenly covered by Pan Gong’s large hand grabbing his visor. Pan Gong yanked him off his feet and slammed him into the ground. Chen Haoran’s backpiece absorbed the force, and he triggered the amplification to rebound instantly to his feet and right into Pan Gong’s guard.

Chen Haoran bellowed in anger and flooded qi into his arms until his muscles screamed and his bones cracked. His palms were incandescent with green light. In one second, he struck 25 times. In two seconds, 50. In four seconds, 100. Pan Gong’s body was too strong, so he targeted the softer parts instead: eyes, nose, temples, chin, throat, liver. He fed more and more qi to his palms, running the Blossom Picking Palm to its fullest strength.

Pan Gong was not to be outdone. He matched Chen Haoran blow for blow, accurately deflecting each palm and, even more terrifyingly, doing it without any visible Technique. That was okay, though. Even if Chen Haoran didn’t land a single hit, so long as Pan Gong kept hitting his armored hands, an opportunity would come. Without the chest piece to complete the armor, the amount of power it could store and amplify was limited, but it could still do it. After the 125th palm strike, his right hand was slapped away and the Technique faded. The green light in his left hand, however shined even brighter. Chen Haoran let loose a wordless howl and channeled his qi and all the stored forced through the armor and into his left palm. His muscles tore, every bone in his hand broke, and Chen Haoran slammed his palm into Pan Gong’s cheek.

Pan Gong’s head snapped back with a loud crack. Chen Haoran didn’t let up. He stepped close to Pan Gong and threw haymaker after haymaker into his exposed center. Each punch sounded like a heavy drum being struck, and Chen Haoran would beat it for all it was worth, no matter how his arms and fists screamed at him.

A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.

Chen Haoran’s fist stopped against Pan Gong’s stomach. Despite throwing everything he had into hitting him Pan Gong hadn’t stepped back once.

Chen Haoran looked up.

Pan Gong looked down at him, unflustered. “That was a good hit.”

He didn’t see the liver punch, but he certainly felt it pop his liver. Chen Haoran screamed in pain for the first time in this fight. Bent over from the pain, Pan Gong clenched his head and proceeded to knee him in the chest. The first one broke his rib cage. The second one pushed it back. The third one had Chen Haoran vomiting blood that dribbled through the neck of his helmet. Pan Gong released Chen Haoran, and he stumbled backward. Pan Gong followed him with a flurry of punches to the chest that sent Chen Haoran to the ground. Chen Haoran raised his arms ineffectually, but Pan Gong swatted them away and continued his relentless hail of blows, growing faster with every punch. His bones were shattered into pieces, his organs punctured and pulped, his chest cavity caved into itself.

What had happened? Why was he here getting beaten to death? Where did he go wrong? Was it when he got greedy and was convinced to come to this Trial? Was it getting involved with Bao Si and the Black Bone Tribe and running headfirst into a fomenting rebellion? Was it when he decided to accept Jiang Lei forcing himself into his space? Perhaps it was coming to Zumulu with Xie Jin in the first place. Would staying in the Central Province really have been so bad compared to what he had to deal with since coming here? Or maybe he’d sealed his fate when he decided to leave Lan Fen. What worth was his pride when his life was on the line?

He weakly raised a hand. Pan Gong ignored it. Chen Haoran could no longer muster the strength to force him off. Assuming he was capable of such a thing, to begin with. That suited Chen Haoran just fine. He wasn’t planning to hit him.

The Sacred Elephant Tusk wasn’t much to write home about size-wise, clocking in at just over two feet. Still, it was a Ninth-Layer Liquid Meridian material, improved a hundred times over. It glowed with a faint, almost holy radiance, and it easily punctured Pan Gong’s skin and pierced through his heart.

Pan Gong’s fists halted, and he looked down at his chest in surprise. He coughed, and a thin line of blood dribbled from his mouth.

“Second Rule of the Palace School,” he quietly recited. “Underestimating the enemy is a cost you pay with your life or your pride.” He sighed. “Today, I pay with my pride.”

Then, to Chen Haoran’s horror, Pan Gong proceeded to grab the tusk and pull it out from his chest. No blood or liquid qi spilled from the wound left behind.

“For a lesser cultivator, that would have been a fatal wound,” Pan Gong said, flipping over the tusk and pointing it to Chen Haoran’s chest. “You fought well.”

Pan Gong brought down the tusk and stabbed Chen Haoran’s heart.