Chapter 34: The Assembly Concludes, Choosing a Martial Art

"I concede!" Wang Pinghong performed a formal salute, admitting his defeat to Zhang Ji.

"You are too kind," Zhang Ji replied, returning the gesture with a bow.

He was being exceptionally polite this time. Had Wang Pinghong known that Zhang Ji’s inner thoughts were preoccupied with how to obtain the "Nine Yin Divine Manual" from him, his expression likely would not have been so pleasant.

"Is that it? What just happened?"

"My brother just lost, just like that?"

"With a single punch? But why wasn't he sent flying this time? Has 'One-Punch Zhang' suddenly become so polite? It seems he only behaves according to who he's facing; he certainly knows how to show respect to the Northern Dao Sect!"

"Director, please roll the replay of that last sequence..."

Soon, the footage was replayed. In the clip, Zhang Ji delivered a punch at blinding speed; the sheer force of the wind made the banners snap and flutter, breaking through Wang Pinghong’s *yuanqi* (vital energy). It was strong enough to cause the skin on Wang’s cheek to ripple, leaving a distinct red mark on his ear from the sheer pressure.

Had that punch actually landed on Wang Pinghong, there would have been only one outcome: he would have been pulverized.

Still, the audience remained puzzled. It was the fastest final in the history of the Martial Arts Tournament. Everyone had expected a fierce, titanic struggle, not such an abrupt conclusion. However, since Wang Pinghong had already conceded and the host had declared the winner, the matter was settled.

Many in the audience were dissatisfied.

"Refund! Is this what I paid to see?"

"That's it? I had my pants off, and you tell me this is all there is?"

"Hey, hey, hey, even a fixed match shouldn't be handled this poorly, right?"

The Martial Arts Association could not afford to ignore the restless crowd. Ma Rui stepped onto the stage to present the award to Zhang Ji, and while handing over the trophy, he took the opportunity to appease the audience.

He said to Zhang Ji, "Young Friend Zhang, look at how many spectators we have today, many of whom are your fans. Ending it like this does seem a bit hurried. Why don't you and I exchange a few pointers? It will allow us to showcase our true strength and satisfy the crowd."

A demonstration by the head of the Martial Arts Association—this was definitely worth the price of admission. Upon hearing this, the majority of the crowd quieted down.

Zhang Ji considered it and decided to agree. It would be a way to do Ma Rui a favor while also gauging the strength of the most prominent figure in the current martial arts world, and incidentally, testing his own current level of power.

"Very well," Zhang Ji nodded.

And so, the final ended, but a sparring match began.

"Wow, I never expected to see Master Shaosi take the stage himself. I recall the last time he sparred was four years ago," the host announced immediately.

The grandmasters in the judging panel were also surprised that Ma Rui intended to personally instruct Zhang Ji.

"That young man still has his youthful locks; he can't be even twenty yet. Master Shaosi must have taken a liking to his talent!"

"To receive guidance from Master Shaosi—his future is truly promising!"

"A grandmaster so young... if I could establish a good connection, I would certainly be willing to try. I just worry I wouldn't be able to handle these young men with such vigorous vitality, hahaha!"

Aside from the Xian Shan Sect, the grandmasters of the various schools were quite friendly. A grandmaster as young as Zhang Ji could go far, and no one wanted to offend him at this stage.

Only the Xian Shan Sect looked sour. One Li Long was already giving them enough anxiety; if another like Zhang Ji emerged, one had to wonder if the ancestors of the Five Forms Sect had started burning auspicious incense.

On the ring, after brief preparations, Zhang Ji and Ma Rui performed the formal salutes and began their bout. Ma Rui stood with a composed posture, a faint smile on his face, his demeanor incredibly serene.

Zhang Ji did not dare to be careless. As a veteran grandmaster, Ma Rui’s reputation in the martial arts world was legendary, and even Zhang Ji knew of him. The Northern Dao Sect’s status as the pillar of the current martial arts world was not built on courtesy; this man’s record was forged in real combat.

*Boom!*

Zhang Ji pushed his strength to the limit. His body, like a coiled spring, exploded into motion as he delivered a full-powered Dragon-Form punch toward Ma Rui. This time, he wasn't pulling his punches; he was aiming straight for Ma Rui’s chest.

Facing this strike, Ma Rui did not dodge. Instead, he met Zhang Ji’s fist with his palm. Before the fist could even make contact with his palm, Zhang Ji felt currents of *yuanqi* dissolving the force of his blow. Finally, Ma Rui gently grasped his fist and gave it a light push. With that single motion, Zhang Ji’s right arm was deflected, almost as if he had no power to resist.

Zhang Ji changed his tactics, attacking again and unleashing every combat technique he had ever learned. Ma Rui showed no intention of dodging, receiving every move and easily neutralizing them. Throughout their exchange, Zhang Ji’s movements were thunderous, occasionally emitting sonic booms, with every step he took leaving deep indentations in the floor. Ma Rui, however, remained rooted to the spot. Within a one-meter radius around him, the ring remained pristine, while everything outside that circle was shredded by the shockwaves of Zhang Ji’s power.

"Fullness cannot last; excessive rigidity leads to breaking. Let the force flow out, follow the waves..." Ma Rui suddenly spoke to Zhang Ji. He used his *yuanqi* to focus his voice so that it exploded clearly around Zhang Ji.

Zhang Ji felt a sudden spark of realization. This was a technique to utilize his current external cultivation. In the process of absorbing damage, one must follow the direction of the force and channel it out, rather than stubbornly resisting it head-on. "Kratos" had told him something similar, but not in such depth.

Zhang Ji’s strikes suddenly developed a rhythm.

*Hum!* *Hum!* *Hum!*

Every time Zhang Ji was deflected by Ma Rui, his body emitted a metallic ringing sound, the vibration growing wider and more intense with each iteration, like waves—borrowing force to strike with force.

By the fifth layer, Zhang Ji swung his palm out. This time, Ma Rui did not block it head-on; instead, he gently guided it, directing Zhang Ji’s palm toward the metal pillar on the side of the ring.

*Clang! Boom!*

The metal pillar bent inward, and the imprint of Zhang Ji’s palm was clearly left upon it.

"Holy crap! That’s solid, isn't it?" an audience member exclaimed.

"More than solid, that's special-grade steel!"

"No wonder my brother conceded the moment he saw Zhang Ji throw a punch. Who could take a hit from a monster like that?"

"Master Ma Rui is truly the strong one here! It seems like Zhang Ji never actually landed a hit on him from start to finish. Look at where Master Ma Rui is standing—within that one-meter radius, there isn't a single scratch!"

On the ring, Ma Rui stood tall, smiling as he said, "Young Friend Zhang’s comprehension is truly extraordinary."

Zhang Ji withdrew his stance and bowed to Ma Rui. "Thank you for your guidance, Master Shaosi."

The foundation of the Northern Dao Sect was indeed profound. He had synthesized his own skills using his "cheat," and he hadn't even fully grasped them himself, yet the master had seen through his techniques instantly and taught him how to better unleash his own power.

The sparring ended there. The host stepped back onto the stage. "What a spectacular performance. Let us thank them both again..."

Afterward, it was just a matter of following the script: Zhang Ji gave his thoughts, spouted some positive rhetoric, thanked the Five Forms Sect for their cultivation and the Martial Arts Association for the platform. Ma Rui also expressed his thanks to the peers in the martial arts world and the audience. Finally, there was a closing performance.

Zhang Ji gave them enough face this time, forcing out several lines of gratitude. If the Northern Dao Sect were willing to let him see the "Nine Yin True Manual," he felt he might even have a talent for public speaking—he could probably stand there and talk for half an hour.

After the tournament, Zhang Ji took his rewards and prepared to return home. First was the three-million-dollar prize money. That wasn't important; what mattered were the other items.

Ten "Vitality-Replenishing Pills," a bottle of "Snake Gall Clarity Fluid," a box of "Mount Li Bone-Strengthening Ointment"... a pile of miscellaneous items, all secret medicines from various sects. Any one of them was worth millions, and they were impossible to buy even with money.

But these were not the best of it. The top reward was his right to choose one martial art from any of the sects that participated in the tournament to learn. It could even be a grandmaster-level technique. This was the true purpose of the Martial Arts Tournament. As the martial arts world withered, these exchange events were created to promote interaction and break down the barriers of sectarianism.

On the plane, Li Long handed Zhang Ji a tablet containing a catalog and brief descriptions of the martial arts he could choose from. The Five Forms Sect’s own arts were included, but there was only one grandmaster-level technique: the "Snake-Form Fist." It showed that even when sects agreed to exchange grandmaster techniques, they still held back, retaining quite a bit!

"Don't look at the ones from our sect; I'll teach you those when we get back. Just look at the other sects'," Li Long said.

"Understood," Zhang Ji nodded and began to flip through the list.

He glanced at the arts of the smaller sects and immediately discarded them. They boasted grandly, but once practiced, they couldn't even reach a professional fifth-degree level; many were not even as good as the foundational techniques of the Five Forms Sect.

Then, Zhang Ji turned his attention to the major sects.

The Seven Peaks Alliance’s grandmaster technique was called the "Divine Mist Palm." The name sounded impressive, and the description was equally dramatic, claiming that a single strike would cover the enemy’s eyes with a divine mist, leaving them defenseless. Zhang Ji knew immediately that it was all show and no substance. Just flashy nonsense.

The Mount Li Sect’s technique was similar, a martial art called the "True-Point Footwork." As for the Xian Shan Sect, Zhang Ji didn't even need to look; he glanced once and moved on. The conflict between the two schools was so deep that even if they gave it to him, he wouldn't dare practice it. Who knew if there were hidden traps buried within?

The Southern Dao Sect offered a "Yuanqi-School" technique called "Innate Qigong." It was worth noting that Zhang Ji had heard of this one; it was said to be a highly health-preserving *yuanqi* technique that cultivated a single breath of "innate vitality" to nourish the three treasures of essence, energy, and spirit. If practiced to perfection before the age of fifty, one could easily live past one hundred and fifty.

However, it provided little help for direct combat, and Zhang Ji didn't like health-cultivation exercises. They required one to curb their emotions, move less, think less, and abstain from oily, salty, or sugary foods. Unless he had no other choice, he wasn't interested.

Skipping that option, Zhang Ji’s eyes were drawn to the grandmaster technique provided by the Northern Dao Sect.

"Hmm? Holy crap!" Zhang Ji’s expression changed instantly.

"True-Qi Nourishing Spirit Manual"?

Is this for real? They would actually offer this?

Could it be that it wasn't the same one he remembered?