The platform was growing noisier by the minute. Groups of disciples argued with unnecessary intensity about techniques they barely understood, others speculated about who would advance to the next round, and some simply enjoyed the atmosphere as if it were a festival rather than a cultivation competition.

  The second match had already begun, but for Fang Li there was nothing worth paying attention to.

  Two young outer disciples exchanged blows with exaggerated seriousness, announcing each technique as if that would double its power. Their movements were stiff, full of visible effort and lacking true killing intent. Fang Li yawned without bothering to hide it and took another bite of the chicken leg he had ordered Ping to bring him.

  If shouting the name of the technique at least increased the damage, this would be interesting, he thought indifferently.

  After several clumsy exchanges, both decided to unleash their strongest attack at the same time. The clash was messy, and one of them lost his balance from failing to withstand the pressure of the impact, getting thrown off the platform while the other remained panting in the center, convinced he had accomplished a heroic feat.

  Some scattered applause echoed among the crowd.

  When the victor stepped down, the elder announced the third match. Upon hearing that, Fang Li slightly lifted his gaze.

  The one stepping up now was the super muscular one who had threatened him earlier. He walked with firm steps, broad torso, tense arms, and the arrogant expression of someone who already considers himself the winner before starting.

  His opponent… an ordinary outer disciple.

  Fang Li barely frowned as he tore another piece of meat from the bone.

  What bad luck for that poor guy… and what poor management on the sect's part.

  A matchup like that didn't measure talent, it only accelerated an elimination. The ordinary disciple tried to adopt a stable stance, but the difference was evident even before the match began. The muscular one didn't waste time testing or probing; he advanced decisively, concentrated his strength into a single blow, and shattered his rival's improvised defense as if brushing a dry branch aside from the road. The outer disciple was thrown off the platform without having any real chance to show anything.

  The audience murmured in approval.

  Fang Li calmly wiped his fingers and rested his chin on his hand while thinking; efficient, at least. But that says nothing about what will happen when he faces someone of his same level.

  His turn was the fourth match. And, unlike the previous one, he did intend for the audience to remember what they were about to see.

  When the elder called his name, Fang Li did not react immediately. He took one last bite of the chicken leg, chewed calmly, and only then stood up, as if he were being invited for a stroll rather than to fight.

  Ping, at his side, looked at him with absolute admiration.

  —Big Brother Fang… it's your turn.

  —I know —he replied naturally.

  With the bone still in his hand, Fang advanced toward the platform and climbed the steps unhurriedly. It was at that moment that several people noticed the detail.

  He was eating.

  The murmur was immediate.

  —Is he… eating?

  —Is he really going to fight like that?

  —What a lack of respect…

  —That's Fang Li, the one who humiliated Brother Lu.

  —Is he crazy or arrogant?

  —Maybe he's just stupid…

  Some inner disciples in the elevated areas slightly frowned. It wasn't illegal to eat, but it also wasn't something that fit with the solemnity of the event.

  Fang Li, completely indifferent to the collective judgment, took another bite as he stood in front of his opponent.

  The disciple matched against him was another outer disciple in the complete organ tempering state; his gaze was full of determination. But the moment he saw his opponent's relaxed attitude, his expression changed.

  —Are you looking down on me? —he asked with a tense voice.

  Fang Li raised his eyes while finishing chewing.

  —Hm?

  The disciple clenched his teeth.

  —I know you defeated Brother Lu. I know you're not weak. But this is an official competition. Do you think you can treat me as if I were nothing?

  The crowd fell silent, waiting for the reaction.

  When he finished eating the last piece of meat, Fang Li looked at the bone in his hand and then at the young man in front of him.

  —It's not personal —he replied calmly—. I was just hungry.

  The veins in the disciple's neck slightly bulged.

  —Enough mockery! Even if you're strong, I'm not someone you can crush so easily. I'm at complete organ tempering! Don't think you can win without even taking this seriously.

  Fang Li sighed softly and finally threw the bone off the platform.

  —Alright —he said while dusting off his hands—. If that makes you feel better… I'll fight with both hands.

  The disciple didn't know whether that was a concession or an even greater provocation.

  From below, Ping clasped his hands and shouted excitedly:

  —Big Brother Fang, show him what being tough is!

  The murmurs returned with greater intensity.

  —What does that mean?—Those two are not right in the head…

  Fang Li adopted a relaxed, almost informal stance and looked at his opponent with a slight smile.

  —Come —he said calmly—. Show me how much those organs of yours are worth.

  The disciple in front of him was already tense, but what came next ignited him completely.

  Fang Li smiled with almost kind calmness, as if he were dealing with a sensitive friend and not someone about to fight him.

  —Don't get angry —he said in a gentle tone—. To show goodwill between fellow disciples… I won't do anything at the beginning. You can hit me first.

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  There was a second of absolute silence on the platform, but then the murmur exploded.

  —What did he just say?—Is he insane?—That's not confidence anymore, that's arrogance.—He wants to be hit?

  Even some elders narrowed their eyes.

  The disciple in front of him felt the blood rush to his face.

  —Are you mocking me? —his voice trembled between rage and humiliation—. Do you think I'm not worthy of you defending yourself?

  Fang Li slightly shook his head.

  —That's not it. I just want you to be calm. If you start this angry, you won't perform at your best. Go ahead, attack me first. I won't move.

  The young man clenched his fists so hard his knuckles cracked.

  From below, someone whispered:

  —That Fang Li is going to regret this…

  Another added:

  —Complete organ tempering is no joke.

  Fang Li, as if none of that existed, continued speaking naturally.

  —And don't hold back. Use all your strength from the start. If you have a strong technique, launch it. Don't save anything. I don't want you to say later that you lost because you weren't ready.

  That was too much.

  The disciple felt every word like an invisible slap. Not only him; many in the crowd thought the same. In their eyes, Fang Li was not being generous, he was being shamelessly arrogant.

  —Fine —the young man finally said, his voice low but firm—. Since you insist… don't blame me later.

  Fang Li simply crossed his arms behind his back and adopted a relaxed posture.

  —That's what I'm trying to avoid —he replied calmly—. That you have no excuses.

  The air around the disciple began to tense as he mobilized his Qi. His tempered organs vibrated with accumulated energy.

  With a smile, Fang Li observed with genuine interest, that's better, he thought, if I'm going to gain points, at least let it be worth it.

  A few moments later.

  What the crowd witnessed next was, at the very least, bewildering.

  The disciple, completely enraged, launched his first strike with the full force of his complete organ tempering. The air vibrated slightly as his fist advanced straight toward Fang Li's chest.

  The impact was solid. Fang stepped back half a step, but he did not counterattack; instead, he smiled.

  —Is that all? —he asked kindly.

  The young man clenched his teeth and launched another blow, then another, chaining basic techniques with ferocity that left no doubt. His arms moved with precision, his Qi circulated with visible intensity, and each impact resounded against Fang Li's body.

  At first, the blows slightly displaced him. His feet slid a few centimeters across the stone platform.

  But after several dozen impacts, something changed, Fang Li stopped moving.

  He simply remained there, receiving each punch as if testing the consistency of the rain.

  And his smile… did not disappear, in fact, it seemed he was enjoying it.

  Murmurs began in the crowd.

  —Why isn't he defending himself?

  —Is he using some passive technique?

  —No… look at his face…

  —Doesn't he seem… to be enjoying it?

  A disciple whispered cautiously:

  —Yesterday I heard something… that in the training courtyard he was shouting strange things while being hit…

  Another replied in a low voice:

  —Don't tell me that…?—Maybe he has strange tastes…—That would explain many things…

  Fang Li's expression, far from tense, showed a slight genuine pleasure. Each time the opponent's fist landed, he felt the familiar faint tingling run through his body.

  And, more importantly, he saw the numbers rising before his eyes.

  +50

  +50

  During the first exchanges, each hit granted fifty full points to his body technique. The accumulation was fast, almost scandalous.

  In a matter of seconds, the system window changed.

  {Iron Blood Body Refinement TechniqueLevel 5 (280/500)}

  Seeing that nearly made him burst into laughter.

  Leveling up in the middle of combat… now this was efficiency.

  The disciple, sweating and breathing heavily, believed he was weakening him little by little; the only thing he didn't understand was why his opponent's expression showed no real pain.

  As the technique advanced to level five, the numbers began to decrease.

  +30

  +30

  The gain dropped, but it was still constant.

  Fang Li could feel how his body was becoming harder and stronger under each impact.

  The crowd no longer knew what to think.

  —It can't be that it doesn't affect him…—Brother Zhang is using all his strength…—Since when is organ tempering so useless?

  Fang, meanwhile, only thought one thing.

  Come on… a little more.

  The counter advanced slowly toward level six, and each blow he received brought him closer.

  If his opponent knew he was being used as a cultivation tool in the middle of a public competition, he probably would have fainted from humiliation before exhaustion.

  When the counter was about to cross the threshold into level six, the flow of blows suddenly stopped.

  The disciple staggered back, chest rising and falling violently as he desperately searched for air. His face was red, not only from physical effort, but from something deeper: frustration.

  He pointed at his opponent with a trembling finger.

  —You… you're being unfair!

  Fang Li, who had been mentally reviewing the progress of his technique, looked up with genuine surprise.

  —Unfair?

  The young man clenched his teeth.

  —You don't counterattack! You don't move! You just stand there looking at me like I'm some kind of spectacle! What kind of fight is this? You're intimidating me!

  The crowd, already confused for some time, began to nod.

  —He's right…

  —This doesn't look like a normal fight anymore…

  —It's like he's humiliating him…

  —That's psychological pressure…

  Fang blinked several times.

  Intimidating.

  That word felt strange in this context. In the cultivation novels he had read in his past life, rivals usually responded with explosive arrogance, colorful insults, and vows of family extermination. No one complained about intimidation.

  This was… unexpected.

  But his thoughts were quickly interrupted when he checked his internal panel again.

  {Iron Blood Body Refinement TechniqueLevel 5 (490/500)}

  He was missing ten points, just one more hit, just one, nothing else mattered at this moment.

  Fang Li took a deep breath and, in the next second, his expression changed. His smile slightly faded and his posture became unstable. He took half a step back and let out a faint suppressed groan, as if the accumulated damage were finally beginning to take its toll.

  His breathing grew heavier.

  He even brought one hand to his chest.

  Disciple Zhang, who was still panting, lifted his head when he saw that.

  —You… you can't take it anymore? —he asked with disbelief mixed with hope.

  Fang Li lowered his gaze, pretending difficulty in staying upright.

  —Your blows… aren't bad… —he murmured in a barely audible voice.

  The crowd immediately changed tone.

  —I knew it!—It's finally affecting him!—Brother Zhang just needed to persevere.

  Zhang clenched his fist with renewed determination. The previous humiliation transformed into a spark of confidence.

  If this last attack knocks him down… all of this will have been worth it.

  Fang Li, meanwhile, thought only one thing, come on… give me that last hit.

  Zhang clenched his teeth when he saw him staggering. The scene fit perfectly with what he wanted to believe: all that arrogance was finally paying the price.

  —This will be the end! —he shouted, gathering the last portion of Qi he could squeeze from his body.

  His breathing was chaotic, his meridians burned from overuse, but he didn't care. He concentrated everything he had left into a single blow and launched his fist straight at his chest.

  The impact echoed clearly across the platform. Fang Li stepped back several steps this time, leaning forward as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. A thin line of blood descended from the corner of his mouth. Zhang lifted his head, eyes shining; the crowd held its breath.

  —It worked— everyone thought.

  Fang Li remained bent over for a moment longer before slowly straightening. He wiped the blood with his thumb and looked at the red stain with apparent surprise.

  In reality, it was blood he had forced into his throat by discreetly biting the inside of his cheek.

  One must respect the opponent's effort, Fang Li thought calmly.

  Then he raised his gaze toward Zhang and smiled faintly.

  —Not bad —he said in a steady voice—. Without a doubt, that was a good strike.

  Zhang felt his heart hammering in his chest. Had he won? Not yet?

  At that moment, before Fang Li's eyes appeared the notification he had been waiting for.

  {Iron Blood Body Refinement Technique Level 6 (0/600)}

  A wave of firmness ran through his body. The density of his flesh, the solidity of his bones, the burning circulation of his blood… everything leapt forward.

  Fang Li slightly rolled his shoulders, as if he had just finished a light warm-up.

  —Good —he continued naturally—. Now it's my turn to return the favor. Try my ultimate technique.

  Zhang barely had time to frown when Fang Li took a single step forward and raised his fist without any extravagant stance or exaggerated preparation. The movement was direct, clean, and completely devoid of dramatics.

  The punch landed on Zhang's face with impeccable precision.

  The difference was overwhelming.

  The disciple's body was sent flying off the platform as if someone had launched him with an invisible catapult, crossing the air before the stunned gazes of everyone before falling several meters beyond the edge.

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  The outer disciples looked at the platform, then at the place where Zhang had landed, then back at Fang Li.

  Some swallowed, others simply did not understand what had just happened.

  Fang Li lowered his fist calmly and lightly brushed his sleeve, as if he had merely dusted something off.

  From below, Ping was the first to react.

  —Big Brother Fang is the toughest! —he shouted with uncontrolled enthusiasm.