32. The Goatee

“Stop right there.”
“Block them!”
“Catch them!”

The burly men stationed at the doorway heard the crash, glanced into the room, and saw a gaping hole in one of the walls. The four young people who had been locked inside were slipping out through it. With a shout, the guards rushed forward. Not only them, but also the group of cronies beside Han Dequan at the arena, upon seeing the four emerge from the hole, hurried over as well. The large man called Bear immediately led several others to surround them.

“A good dog doesn’t block the way—haven’t you heard the saying?” Chen Fengyun said seriously as he strode forward, picking up speed. With a swift movement, he was suddenly beside one of the burly men.

With a dull thud, the first guard, tall and muscular, managed to block their way and felt a flush of pride—he imagined Han would surely reward him for this. At that moment, a young man appeared before him and crashed into him with great force.

With a pained scream, the guard before Chen Fengyun was sent flying more than a meter, slamming straight into Bear behind him. The two tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Without pausing, Chen Fengyun dashed toward another guard. This one, seeing Chen's momentum, roared and swung a heavy fist at Chen’s chest.

“Good, bring it on,” Chen Fengyun answered, undeterred, his body shielded by his protective technique. He met the punch head-on. Having enhanced his physique multiple times, he could no longer measure the strength of his own fists, but he was certain it was formidable.

With a crisp crack, even before their bodies met, Chen’s fist struck the other's fist, snapping bone. Before anyone could react, Chen crashed into the man, sending him flying as well.

This guard let out a wail, even more agonized than the first, and was hurled nearly two meters, landing heavily on the ground.

“Uncle!” At this moment, Zeng Yiyue and the other two had already run past Chen Fengyun to Zhao Jianguo’s side. Seeing her, Zhao Jianguo visibly relaxed, smiled, and nodded at her before turning to Chen Fengyun.

“Young man, thank you for rescuing Yiyue,” Zhao Jianguo said courteously.

“It’s nothing. Since Sister Zeng brought me here, I couldn’t just stand by if something happened to her.” Chen Fengyun shook his head, though his gaze was fixed on the goateed man atop the arena.

“Who are you, boy? How dare you ruin my plans?” Han Dequan glared at Chen Fengyun and snorted coldly.

“So you’re Master Han? Judging by what happened at your jade shop this afternoon and by locking up Sister Zeng and the others, it’s clear you’re not a good man. So I want to fight him.” Chen Fengyun gave Han Dequan little attention; his interest was fixed on the goateed man atop the stage.

Earlier, the goateed man had displayed clear signs of ancient martial arts during the match, and occasionally, Chen could sense faint spiritual energy emanating from him. This indicated that, while not a cultivator, the man had at least dabbled in cultivation arts, his body faintly exuding spiritual energy.

With his cultivation now at the seventh tier of Qi Training, Chen Fengyun was limited by his current techniques and unable to advance further. He needed to find new methods to break through, and this goateed man was a lead he was unwilling to let go.

“Zhao Jianguo, the man you brought has lost. Can’t you accept defeat?” Han Dequan, face ashen with rage, could only argue with Zhao Jianguo as Chen Fengyun ignored him.

“When did I ever admit defeat, Han Dequan? This young man is also here at my request, though I sent him to rescue my niece earlier. I never said he wouldn’t enter the ring,” Zhao Jianguo replied, seizing the opportunity, though he didn’t know Chen’s reasons.

“Master Yang, this boy wants to challenge you. Would you do me the honor of teaching him a lesson?” Han Dequan had no choice but to turn to the goateed man.

Chen Fengyun sensed that the goateed man’s status was more than just a hired hand; otherwise, Han Dequan would not have addressed him so respectfully. Remembering the “Eighth Master” he’d met in the town at the foot of Mount Qingcheng, Chen grew wary. Perhaps behind this man stood a group of grave robbers, or even an entire faction.

“Young man, it seems you’re trained. Who is your master? Perhaps I know him,” the goateed man asked, eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint.

“I guarantee you don’t know my master, so there’s no need for pleasantries. I know you’ve studied ancient martial arts, and something else you never quite mastered. Am I right?” Chen Fengyun replied, stepping toward the ring, eyes fixed on the goateed man.

Sure enough, the goateed man’s eyes widened momentarily before he regained his composure, but Chen caught the change. His guess was right: the man had dabbled in cultivation arts, but lacking spiritual energy in the world, he could not succeed—though it did help with ancient martial arts training.

“Who is your master, boy? I don’t want to hurt you only to be accused of bullying the young,” the goateed man pressed, his tone growing severe.

“If you beat me, I’ll tell you who my master is; but if you lose, you tell me where you got the techniques you failed to master. Fair?” Chen Fengyun said, already leaping onto the stage, his eyes earnest.

“Very well, I’ll test your mettle and discipline you for your master,” the goateed man replied, annoyed by Chen’s confidence.

With a sharp exhale, Chen Fengyun wasted no words. He nodded, then lunged forward, swinging a punch at the goateed man. He hadn’t mastered any formal martial arts, but relied on his superior physique, hoping to overpower his opponent with strength and speed.

Of course, Chen Fengyun had a trump card: his body-protection technique. By now, he could summon it at will, no longer draining energy unnecessarily.

With a bang, the goateed man spun, his right leg flashing out toward Chen’s waist. But to his shock, Chen didn’t dodge or retreat—he met the attack head-on.

The kick landed with a resounding thud, but Chen Fengyun was unharmed, only shuddering slightly before landing a heavy punch on the goateed man’s shoulder.