## Chapter Ten: The Serpent's Coil Tightens
The Inner Sect Selection Tournament pushed onward, the atmosphere in the Outer Court now a potent brew of exhilaration and desperation. Yan Zhen, brimming with confidence after his quick victory over Li Ming, felt an almost boundless energy. He was now firmly in **Body Tempering, Stage 5**, and his enhanced senses made the world feel sharper, his movements swifter. He longed for his next opponent, convinced he could overcome any challenge.
"I can't wait for the next match, Lin Feng!" Yan Zhen declared, his eyes shining with unbridled eagerness. "I'm going to push myself even harder! My 'Swift Crane Step' feels like it's getting even faster!"
Lin Feng, nursing a feigned ache in his shoulder from his own 'lucky' win, nodded sagely. "You totally got this, Zhen! You're a force of nature! I just hope I can cling on for another round. These guys are getting seriously tough, and my luck might run out eventually, unlike your pure awesome power!" He subtly checked the freshly posted brackets, his gaze settling on Yan Zhen's upcoming opponent: **Gao Ren**, a hulking **Body Tempering, Stage 7** disciple known for his impenetrable defense and a fearsome 'Iron Shell Fist' technique. *Gao Ren. Strong, but predictable. And prone to blind spots if provoked.*
Lin Feng's gaze drifted to the corner where Shen Li sat, a lone, bitter figure, glowering at the jubilant faces of the victorious disciples. His defeat in the first round had festered into a deep, toxic resentment. *A ripe target indeed.*
Later that day, Lin Feng sought out Shen Li in the quiet, almost deserted training grounds. Shen Li was listlessly practicing a basic qi flow exercise, his movements stiff with anger.
"It still burns, doesn't it?" Lin Feng said, his voice low and empathetic, settling down beside him. "Losing like that, especially when it feels like the whole sect is against you."
Shen Li glared. "What's the point? They just promote who they want. People like me... we're just meant to clean their messes."
Lin Feng sighed, a show of shared frustration. "Yeah, I know. It's frustrating. But you know, sometimes, knowing their weaknesses is the only real weapon we have. Like Gao Ren. He's a brute, right? All that 'Iron Shell Fist' nonsense. But I heard a really old rumor, from some discarded scrolls in the library, that his technique has a tiny blind spot. Right in the solar plexus, during the wind-up of his most powerful strikes. It's almost imperceptible, and insanely risky to try, because if you miss, his counter is brutal." He paused, letting the information sink in. "And I also heard whispers that he uses some sort of minor qi-dulling incense before his matches to slow down his opponents. Probably just a rumor, though. No one would be that dishonorable in a tournament, right?" He shook his head, feigning disbelief. "Anyway, it's just gossip. Doesn't really matter to us now."
Lin Feng stood up, stretching. "Well, good luck with your training, Shen Li. Don't let them get you down." He left Shen Li alone, knowing the bitter seeds of suspicion and desperate 'insight' had been firmly planted. *Despair and a hint of a shortcut. A potent combination.*
The next morning, the Outer Court arena was once again packed. The tension was palpable. The disciples knew the fights would be tougher, the stakes higher.
Qing Yu was in the ring first. Her opponent was a swift, aggressive disciple known for his unpredictable movements and rapid qi blasts. Qing Yu, however, was a master of defensive-counter. She moved with an almost ethereal grace, deflecting every incoming attack with minimal effort, her qi subtly redirecting the force. Then, in a sudden, breathtaking burst of speed, she closed the distance, her palm striking with a focused burst of qi that sent her bewildered opponent tumbling off the stage. Her victory was decisive, earned with cool precision, drawing gasps and murmurs of admiration from Elders and disciples alike.
"She's so graceful," Yan Zhen whispered, awe in his voice. "And so strong!"
Then, it was Yan Zhen's turn. Gao Ren, a mountain of muscle, stomped onto the stage, his gaze aggressive, clearly intending to overwhelm Yan Zhen with sheer force.
"Remember the rules, disciples!" Elder Xuan's voice boomed. "Fight with honor!"
As the match began, Gao Ren immediately unleashed his 'Iron Shell Fist', his body coiling, his powerful strikes creating miniature whirlwinds of qi. Yan Zhen met him head-on, his **Body Tempering, Stage 5** strength clashing with Gao Ren's raw power. Yan Zhen's 'Swift Crane Step' allowed him to dodge some blows, but Gao Ren's defense was unyielding, forcing Yan Zhen to expend significant energy just to stay in the fight.
Suddenly, a loud, angry shout ripped through the spectator stands near the sect Elder platforms. "They're cheating! It's all rigged! Gao Ren uses qi-dulling incense!"
It was Shen Li, his face contorted with rage, pointing a trembling finger at Gao Ren. He was immediately seized by two guards, but his outburst, fueled by Lin Feng's subtle whispers, had already achieved its purpose. A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, and a flicker of unease crossed Elder Xuan's grim face.
Yan Zhen, momentarily distracted by the commotion, heard Shen Li's desperate accusation. The "rumors" Lin Feng had casually mentioned flashed through his mind. *Qi-dulling incense... so it *is* rigged! And the blind spot!* A surge of righteous anger, the kind that always fueled his best efforts, coursed through him. This wasn't just a fight for himself; it was a fight against the unfairness Shen Li had just exposed.
He dodged another sweeping punch from Gao Ren, then, with a burst of furious energy, executed the 'Swift Crane Step' with an almost impossible burst of speed. His entire body coiled, his qi focusing into his fist, and he launched himself forward. It was a risky, almost reckless move, but his intuition, sharpened by Lin Feng's subtle guidance and his own surging anger, led him true.
*CRACK!*
Yan Zhen's fist landed with astonishing accuracy, not on Gao Ren's hardened outer shell, but directly into the minute, fleeting opening in his solar plexus during his powerful wind-up. Gao Ren's eyes widened in disbelief, his mighty Iron Shell Fist technique collapsing. He gasped, staggered back, clutching his chest, and then crumpled to the stage, defeated.
"Gao Ren yields! Yan Zhen wins!" Elder Xuan declared, his voice carrying a note of genuine surprise and keen interest.
Yan Zhen stood, breathing heavily, looking at his opponent on the ground, then at his own fist. He hadn't just won; he had won by exploiting a hidden weakness he seemed to have instinctively known about, a tactical masterpiece that belied his direct fighting style. It felt like more than just strength; it felt like cunning.
He hopped off the stage, exhilarated. Lin Feng was there, his face a mask of awe and pure, unadulterated excitement. "Zhen! You were incredible! I totally thought you were done for, but then *bam!* That move! How did you even know to hit him there? That was insane! You're a genius!" He slapped Yan Zhen on the back repeatedly, his eyes wide with feigned wonder.
Yan Zhen beamed, his confidence restored and amplified. "I... I don't know, Lin Feng! It was just a feeling! Like a flash! It worked!" He felt a surge of pride, a deeper sense of his own untapped potential.
*Just as planned,* Lin Feng thought, his internal smirk widening. *A desperate pawn, a well-placed whisper, a moment of chaos, and the hero, fueled by righteous indignation, rises. He thinks it was a lucky guess, a flash of genius. But it was just another thread in the web. The deeper he falls into his destiny, the more he relies on the 'lucky insights' from his loyal friend.* The tournament was truly proving to be Lin Feng's grand design.
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