Someone was stirring trouble!
Li Yan was somewhat surprised.
In the martial world, survival depended on substance, but appearances mattered just as much.
Sometimes, face was worth more than life itself.
So, unless there was a deep grudge, no one would recklessly cause a scene. No matter how ruthless someone might be behind closed doors, at least their words were always polished and pleasant.
Those with sharp tongues usually didn't last long.
He was just a teenager, barely in his teens, rarely leaving his village. Everyone here, without exception, was his senior.
Was this guy out of his mind, throwing around snide remarks?
The one who spoke was also young, about twenty or so, with a decently square face but faint eyebrows that gave him a hint of menace.
Li Yan's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Do we know each other?"
He had phoenix-like eyes with a dragon's gaze, naturally sharp and piercing without any training, exuding a cold, commanding presence. Normally, he kept it restrained.
But with that slight squint, his aura surged uncontrollably, making those around him tense up, suddenly wary of underestimating him.
"You punk, what's with the sarcastic tone?"
Sha Lifei quickly stood up, firing back a retort before turning to Li Yan with a grin. "This guy's no stranger. Meng Haicheng, disciple of Zhou, the head of Xianyang's Divine Fist Association."
Li Yan immediately understood the reason.
The Divine Fist Association wasn't a gang but an organization recognized by the imperial court.
During the Daxing Dynasty, despite the standoff with the Golden Horde in the north, the warriors from the grasslands were fierce—burly, bold, and brutal.
In every war, Daxing lost more often than it won.
The fate of the nation was every man's duty.
Several martial arts grandmasters, backed by the court, set aside their differences and founded the Divine Fist Association, a super organization that absorbed countless sects, big and small.
Martial artists, unable to stomach the rigid rules of the imperial army, thrived in the Association. They infiltrated the north, assassinated, sabotaged, and gathered intelligence, earning great merit.
When the Daxuan Dynasty's founding emperor seized power, he relied heavily on them, eventually unifying the land and annexing the entire grasslands.
Once peace was restored, the Divine Fist Association changed.
The court, unwilling to let such a powerful force remain unchecked, used various means to tighten control, and the Association gradually declined.
Now, it was a semi-official entity.
Its leader, Grandmaster Huo Yin, was a martial instructor for the imperial clan.
They acted as intermediaries between the court and the martial world, an extension of the Daxuan royalty's reach into the江湖, often working with local authorities to suppress bandits and groups like the Maitreya Sect.
Some in the martial world sneered at them, calling them the court's hounds.
But in return, local Association leaders reaped plenty of benefits. Half-official, half-underworld, they had many disciples and considerable influence.
The martial world was never free of disputes.
Li Yan's father, Li Hu, known as the Sick Tiger, had aimed to claim the Xianyang Divine Fist Association's leadership to secure a future for his family but met an untimely end.
Sha Lifei mentioned Zhou, whose full name was Zhou Pan. Skilled in Red Fist and Xingyi Monkey Fist, he was one of the contenders for the position. It was only after Li Yan's father's death that Zhou rose to power.
Zhou was petty and vengeful. Rumor had it his skills had grown sharper in recent years, and he'd even trained two large macaques in Monkey Fist.
Challengers had to defeat the monkeys before facing him.
Some in the Guanzhong region mocked him: "With no tiger in the mountain, the monkey claims to be king." This referred to Zhou Pan and Li Yan's father.
Given Zhou's nature, he wouldn't stoop to bullying a junior like Li Yan, but he surely harbored a grudge.
With this, Li Yan pieced it together.
Meng Haicheng, leading a group of hired fighters, was clearly mediocre.
He must have known Li Yan's identity and saw a chance to trample on a junior to curry favor with his master, Zhou Pan, hence the mocking words.
Li Yan wasn't one to take a slight. He nodded. "I get it. You want to step on a junior like me to climb up and gain some fame. Understandable."
The words landed, and the crowd's expressions turned odd.
These were seasoned martial artists. The moment Meng Haicheng opened his mouth, they knew his game and quietly despised him.
But clearly, Li Hu's son wasn't a pushover either.
Meng Haicheng needed a pretext to provoke, but this kid cut straight to the truth.
Sometimes, the truth hurts more than lies.
Sure enough, Meng Haicheng's face flushed red, unable to retort. He could only snap, "You're just a kid! So rude! Keep talking nonsense, and I'll teach you a lesson today!"
To his surprise, Li Yan didn't get angry. He just shook his head slightly. "You've got no shame and no class. Your skills are probably mediocre too. I don't want to fight you."
That was a critical hit.
"Sharp-tongued brat, take this!"
Meng Haicheng couldn't hold back anymore. He lunged forward.
His leap was called the Monkey Dash.
Monkey Fist emphasized five principles: form must resemble, intent must be true, steps must be light, techniques must be tight, and the body must be lively. Without monkey-like intent, it wouldn't work.
A monkey perched on a tree, startled, would leap out suddenly, sometimes catching even wild beasts off guard, scratching their faces bloody.
It was all about surprise, speed, precision, and ruthlessness.
Meng Haicheng's move had some flair, like a startled macaque, crossing five or six meters in a blink to pounce on Li Yan.
The crowd frowned, some sneering.
Meng Haicheng, resorting to a sneak attack against a junior? Shameless.
Sure, he shouted "Take this!" beforehand, but with a Monkey Dash, what difference did it make?
Still, he knew his limits. His clawed hands didn't aim for Li Yan's throat but his right shoulder, showing he wasn't out for blood.
Even so, it was vicious.
If it went as planned, he'd follow with a coiling grapple, using joint-locking techniques to dislocate Li Yan's arm and humiliate him.
Youngsters are often proud, but too rigid, they break easily. A blow like this early in their martial journey could ruin them.
Crushing someone's spirit can be worse than killing them.
Of course, the onlookers saw through it but wouldn't speak up.
Zhou Pan was narrow-minded, and they didn't want trouble. At most, they'd gossip later, letting everyone know what kind of people this master and disciple were.
Li Yan, however, was prepared.
The instant Meng Haicheng dashed, Li Yan's body tensed, hairs standing on end. His right toes tapped the ground, and he slid back two meters, sidestepping and shifting his shoulders. His left hand rose slightly, his right hand crossing back.
This move instantly created distance.
"Hmm…"
An old swordsman in a sheepskin jacket from Longyou, the most senior among them, raised an eyebrow.
He hadn't amounted to much in his life, but years of wandering had sharpened his eye.
Li Yan's move captured the essence of Red Fist.
The Red Fist's sixteen-word mantra: "Support and reinforce as the base, hook and hang for skill, transform the body for surprise, cunning strikes as the method."
His footwork was key: the body as a line, not a plane. Shoulders must be flexible, steps leading the way—that was transformation.
Left isn't left, right isn't right, retreat is advance, advance is retreat, embodying the "surprise" of transformation.
As the saying goes, "Master the sidestep and shoulder shift, and even immortals can't touch you."
Li Yan's maneuver not only dodged Meng Haicheng's sneak attack but controlled the distance perfectly. With his palms switching—support for defense, reinforcement for attack—he was poised for both offense and defense.
This kid's got skill!
Meng Haicheng, caught in the moment, felt a jolt.
An expert's move reveals their worth.
But it was too late.
Mid-air, his old force was spent, new force yet to come. Reaching out would leave him open to Li Yan's counter.
With years in the martial world, Meng Haicheng quickly drew back his claws to guard his head and chest, twisting his body to attempt a side kick to create distance and avoid Li Yan's next move.
But Li Yan was faster.
As he sidestepped and retreated, he set his stance, lowering his center of gravity to his right leg, muscles taut, spine slightly curved like a compressed spring.
The moment Meng Haicheng shifted, Li Yan sprang forward with a heart-striking elbow.
*Thud!*
A muffled sound, and Meng Haicheng flew back, rolling twice on the ground, clutching his chest, pale and gasping.
Li Yan's elbow had struck clean through his guard, landing squarely.
"Nice!"
The crowd was stunned, but Sha Lifei was the first to cheer.
The others exchanged glances, incredulous.
In that instant, Li Yan's muscles and bones had popped, a sign of peak Bright Force.
His technique was refined, which made sense—Li Hu was a renowned figure, and the Li family had its legacy. Perhaps he'd trained with experts.
In this world, Bright Force was the foundation of martial arts. Practitioners trained their bodies, strengthening muscles and bones, making their strikes clear and powerful.
The hallmark of mastery was trembling tendons and resounding bones.
The body's major tendons, linked to bones, moved in unison. Vibrating tendons drove the skeleton and muscles, focusing force into a single point.
For someone so young to reach peak Bright Force was rare.
Meanwhile, Meng Haicheng was in agony.
That heart-striking elbow had sealed his breath, leaving him gasping, rubbing his chest.
Luckily, Li Yan was only at Bright Force. If he'd mastered Dark Force and meant harm, Meng Haicheng's lungs would've been damaged, coughing blood for years, ruined.
He'd also eaten plenty of mutton and flatbread earlier. Now, his stomach churned, and he couldn't hold it—*blech!*—he vomited.
The sour stench wafted ten meters, making the surrounding fighters snicker and step back.
Humiliating, but at least he could breathe again.
Seeing their looks, Meng Haicheng's face alternated between green and white. He didn't dare make threats, scrambling up and stumbling away.
He could tell—Li Yan was young but ruthless.
He'd already lost. If he didn't leave, he'd lose even more face.
Li Yan glanced at him faintly, unbothered.
This wasn't the chaotic past. Sparring and killing were different matters. Under the Daxuan Dynasty's laws, even martial artists faced harsh justice in broad daylight.
Through this fight, Li Yan had an epiphany.
Stuck at peak Bright Force, he lacked experience. To break through, he'd need more real combat.
With his stand-in idol, he feared no ordinary injury.
As long as he didn't die, he'd take on anyone.
"No wonder he's the Sick Tiger's son…"
The surrounding swordsmen offered praise.
Seasoned in the martial world, they never missed a chance to flatter.
This young tiger was already showing his claws. His future would be formidable.
"You seniors are too kind."
Li Yan brushed it off, then pulled Sha Lifei to a quiet corner, his eyes turning cold. "Uncle Sha, you set me up. What's your game?"
In his past life, he'd dealt with all sorts. In this one, his father taught him the ways of the martial world. How could he miss that Sha Lifei had laid a trap?
Knowing Xianyang was Zhou Pan's turf, with his disciple present, Sha Lifei had deliberately revealed Li Yan's identity to stir trouble.
"Hey, kid, what're you talking about…"
Sha Lifei grinned, about to deflect, when his face froze.
At some point, Li Yan had drawn a short blade, speaking casually but pressing it against Sha Lifei's chest from under his sleeve.
Sha Lifei swallowed hard. "Let's talk this out, let's talk."
Looking into Li Yan's chilling eyes, he felt a pang of fear, sensing this kid had no qualms and might actually strike.
Not daring to hesitate, he whispered something that stunned Li Yan.
"Don't you want to know… how your father died?"
**(End of Chapter)**