Chapter 405: Taking the Most Poisonous Beating

Frankly speaking, the challenger's first, third, and fifth rounds were sacrificial picks. Having to field fighters first naturally made them easy targets for counter strategies.

Fantasy wasn't completely calm. Only a fool wouldn't realize Xifeng Holy Sanctuary was different from their previous opponents—this group wasn't to be trifled with. Their "weakest links," Mortrel and the other exorcist, had already fought. The remaining members were all hardened fighters. If he got countered again, victory wasn't guaranteed.

"Quit yapping. Just go win."

"You make it sound simple..."

"Here." Old Wang tossed him a leather pouch with a grin. "Scared? Take a swig if you are."

"Pah!" Fantasy grabbed the pouch, uncorked it, and his eyes lit up after a sniff before tucking it away. "Me? Scared of them? Won't even need this. Watch me make it 2-1!"

As he spoke, he vaulted onto the stage, jutted his left hand on his hip, and pointed straight at Zhao Ziyue. "I'm taking on your best!"

Zhao Ziyue's face remained impassive as he coolly assessed Fantasy and called out, "Ma Suo."

Boom!

A towering figure launched up like a geyser behind Zhao Ziyue before slamming into the arena with cannonball force.

The metal floor groaned under the impact as a hulking figure steadied opposite Fantasy.

The Ma Family's patriarch, Ma Tianci—dean of Xifeng Holy Sanctuary's Martial Arts Division—sat on the viewing platform to Fu Changsheng's left.

The Zhao Family's confidence in transforming Xifeng Holy Sanctuary came partly from their renowned spear arts, but they leaned harder on the Ma Family's close-combat prestige in the Blade League. Their "Ancient Fist and Elbow Art" was said to be top-three among close-combat techniques. If not for their thin bloodline—traditionally passing skills to only one heir per generation—they might have rivaled the Zhaos. Ma Suo was the current inheritor.

Standing two meters tall and bare-chested, his muscles weren't bulky but dense like forged steel.

Unusually, his elbows, knees, and shoulders shone metallic silver—clearly not skin.

Alchemy!

Old Wang recognized it immediately: living mystic metal, the hallmark of Ma Family's art that pursued combat perfection through devastating elbow strikes.

Ma Suo gave a cold, wordless cupped-fist salute.

Fantasy returned the gesture casually, but before he could speak, a killing aura like a stalking tiger crashed over him—a savage pressure that erased his carefree air mid-salute.

Though his salute held, Fantasty's stance shifted instantly. The opposing soul pressure came in waves, yet he stood immovable as a monolith.

Their clashing energies sparked invisible tension, silencing the arena. The fight would begin in seconds.

Ma Suo's lip twitched into a smirk. His opponent's steadiness matched the combat footage.

He'd studied Fantasy's fights, especially against Fire God Mountain's Retsun Chai Jing. Those submission holds—softness conquering hardness—were his own art's polar opposite. Calling a winner from clips was impossible; only battle would tell.

Heh...

A glint flashed in Ma Suo's eyes. The Ancient Fist and Elbow Art wasn't about waiting.

He was a first-strike fighter! Boom!

Launching forward like a cannonball, the battle began.

As the saying goes: in literature, no undisputed first; in martial arts, no second. His charge was like a tiger pouncing—a flying knee strike leading the assault.

Bang!

Fan Texi had meant to deflect the force, but the moment his palm made contact with the knee, he felt an overwhelming impact far beyond what he could redirect—like being hit by a phantom rail train at full speed.

Ah Xi Ba's expression shifted slightly. His single-handed deflection instantly became a cross-armed guard, but he was half a beat too slow. The force wasn't enough, and the devastating knee strike drove his palms straight into his chest.

With a muffled grunt, Fan Texi kicked off the ground, his body flying backward to disperse the momentum. But what followed was a brutal six-knee combo!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Each strike was fiercer than the last. Though his meaty palms cushioned the blows, the impact still rattled through him. Only someone like Ah Xi Ba, with his fat's natural shock absorption, could dissipate most of the force. Anyone else would have been spitting blood from that hit.

His face flushed crimson as he staggered back nearly twenty meters before barely steadying himself. Planting his left foot, he pivoted into a leftward spiral just as Ma Suo, charging like a cannonball, grazed past him.

Fan Texi countered mid-defense—as he twisted right, his right fist lashed out in a sneaky reverse hook. With Ma Suo's own momentum, the strike should have been unavoidable. Yet Ma Suo dodged it anyway.

His body contorted impossibly, folding like a jointed mechanism.

In that instant, his palms slapped the ground while his left leg snapped upward like an iron whip.

Boom!

Fan Texi took a crushing blow to the head—a place even his bulk couldn't protect. Instantly, his vision swam, and his neck felt jammed into his shoulders.

The worst mistake when absorbing a hit was freezing in place—a lesson Fan Texi had learned through countless beatings. Ignoring the pain in his shoulders, his body instinctively arched back, arms hooking behind him as his thick legs pistoned upward.

His reflexes were instantaneous. Ma Suo blocked, but Ah Xi Ba's monstrous strength still sent a shockwave through the arena. With a bone-shaking impact, the two figures hurtled apart, landing over ten meters away.

Their exchange had been blindingly fast—seven or eight moves in the blink of an eye. The stands fell silent, many disciples unable to track the action. But their conditions told the story.

Ma Suo stood unshaken as a mountain, his breathing steady. Fan Texi, meanwhile, panted heavily as he rolled his neck—usually supple, now cracking audibly. Sweat beaded on his forehead, yet his eyes burned with battle lust. His trump card remained unplayed.

Boom!

Fan Texi's previously invisible aura suddenly materialized. His soul force, no longer transparent, glowed pale white, roaring behind him like a snarling Tai Chi Tiger, its lethal intent radiating outward.

The Fire God Mountain faction erupted in cheers—their bond with Rose had been forged through Fan Texi's fights. Retsun Chai Jing clenched his fists. Two years ago, he'd faced Ma Suo in the Hero Tournament. As a fellow close-combat fighter, he'd been utterly demolished. The memory of Ma Suo's devastating elbow techniques still haunted him, driving his relentless training with Ma Suo as his mental rival. After awakening the Retsun power, challenging Ma Suo again had become his obsession. Fan Texi's strength matched his own—if Fan Texi won, he might stand a chance too. But if Fan Texi lost, his courage would shatter.

He had to win!

Faced with Fan Texi's surge, Ma Suo's soul force flared in response. Dark energy seeped from his limbs and joints, casting a gloom over his spot in the bright arena. Against Fan Texi's radiant glow and the phantom tiger, Ma Suo's presence was darker, denser, more oppressive.

"You think..." A cold smirk curled on Ma Suo's shadowed lips. "...softness can overcome hardness?"

Fan Texi's brow furrowed—then a glint flashed in the darkness. The living weapon launched forward like a siege projectile.

Boom!

A dark blur streaked across the arena, stabbing straight for Fan Texi's center.

Fan Texi's eyes narrowed. Even with Tai Chi Tiger active, Ma Suo's speed was terrifying.

The strike arrived in an instant—the flying knee wreathed in dark energy. Fan Texi barely threw up a guard, but on contact, he knew the force was unstoppable. His center dropped, body arching back as he whirled like a cyclone, narrowly evading the assault.

Yet Ma Suo landed like a plummeting anvil, palms slamming down before scything into a sweeping leg kick.

Crash!

The shockwave rippled out. Fan Texi's rooted stance held firm—even this couldn't topple him. The kick lacked his elbows' brutality, and he kept his feet. Both fighters rose as one, diving back into the close-quarters fray.

Knee strikes and steel elbows—elbows are shorter than fists, an inch shorter means an inch more danger, the shorter the faster.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Fantasy felt the opponent's attacks raining down like a relentless storm. Forget redirecting force—he couldn’t even fully block them. For every three or five elbows he managed to stop, one would slip through.

The Ancient Steel Elbow Fist turned the entire body into a weapon, especially the elbows and knees refined through alchemy. These strikes didn’t feel like flesh and bone but rather unstoppable sledgehammers smashing into mortal bodies. Only Fantasy’s hyper-elastic blubber could serve as the perfect cushion. Anyone else trying to tank even two hits would likely have their bones shattered.

Fantasy was clearly feeling the pressure. The opponent wasn’t just heavy and fast—his understanding of close combat was profound. Every strike landed at the most inconvenient moment for Ah Xi, disrupting his habitual force-redirection.

This was torture. His "soft" style couldn’t counter hardness, yet he couldn’t match the opponent’s brute force either. This was the first time since awakening the Tai Chi Tiger that Fantasy felt truly outmatched.

His only saving grace now was his layers of blubber, providing absolute defense. Endurance was Ah Xi’s greatest strength. The opponent seemed well aware of this, never rushing for a quick finish. Despite his ferocity, he always held back slightly, wary of any counterattack from Fantasy.

The white glow of the Tai Chi Tiger was gradually dimming. Though each heavy blow couldn’t outright knock Fantasy down, it steadily drained his spirit energy and stamina.

The match quickly turned one-sided. Even those with no combat experience could see Fantasy was being pounded nonstop—it was only a matter of time before he fell.

"Fantasy, hang in there! You swore over drinks you’d get at least one win!"

Boom!

A rising left elbow sent Fantasy’s head snapping backward, his neck nearly snapping like a twig. He staggered back, trying desperately to create distance from Ma Suo.

"Fantasy, win and it’s a feast! Lose and Jiao Baba will serve you a feast!"

Boom!

Another hit landed, this time on his left eye. Thankfully, his head instinctively ducked, sparing his eyeball, but the eye socket took the full force. Blood gushed instantly, his left eye swelling shut like a smashed tomato, vision completely obscured.

Distance was impossible to create. Fantasy had studied dark grappling and prided himself on close-quarters control, but compared to Ma Suo, he was sorely lacking.

This wasn’t about raw strength or footspeed—it was raw combat instinct, honed through countless battles. Fantasy’s foundations—dark grappling, tumbler footwork, Tai Chi Tiger spirit energy, even his blubber’s shock absorption—were solid. But his opponent’s were even more so. Ah Xi had started late, and his adversary’s battle experience was vast, forged through harsher training than Fantasy could imagine.

The Ancient Steel Elbow Fist was famed for its lethal elbows, and its mastery of close-range precision was unparalleled—truly top-tier in melee combat. No matter how hard Fantasy struggled to break free, Ma Suo maintained perfect elbow-range distance, never faltering.

After hundreds of one-sided exchanges, the Xifeng Holy Sanctuary supporters in the stands were in a frenzy.

What underdog? What Rose crap? What use were they against overwhelming strength?

"Ma Suo! Ma Suo! Ma Suo!"

"Senior Ma Suo, avenge Mortrel! Smash that fat pig’s skull!"

"That idiot Rose captain was yapping about a 3-1 victory—hahaha! Was he foreseeing them losing 1-3 to us?"

His left eye swollen shut, ears ringing, face a mask of blood—his vision and senses were compromised, his movements growing sluggish. Fantasy’s right eye blurred as he swiped at shadows. The last line of defense had finally crumbled.

Punches, elbow strikes—hit after hit landed. A glint of murderous intent crossed Ma Suo’s eyes as he launched like a cannon shot, all his spirit energy converging into his knees.

In an instant, black light erupted. His rising knees, along with Ma Suo himself, transformed into a shadow-cloaked black wolf lunging from the darkness.

"ROAR!"

Earth Wolf Steel Execution!

Boom!

The crushing impact slammed into Fantasy square in the jaw. This time, his thick blubber couldn’t save him. The sound of his jawbone shattering ripped through the arena.

Fantexi was sent flying backward, his head tilting back as he sprayed blood flecked with teeth and bone shards. His bulky frame traced a perfect parabola through the air before crashing heavily onto the ground.

Thud...

The impact of the fat man's fall reverberated through the metallic arena, the vibrations humming ominously. He seemed to have lost consciousness instantly, blood frothing uncontrollably from his mouth.

The spectators from Ice Spirit Holy Sanctuary and Fire God Mountain fell into stunned silence. Winnie was seething, her face turning crimson with rage. She wanted to curse but didn’t know what to say—Damn that Wang Feng! He should’ve been the one fighting in the third round! Didn’t he claim to have an invincible strategy? Why send Fantexi as cannon fodder... And now it wasn’t just a loss—was the guy even alive?

She shot a furious glare at Old Wang, only to find his gaze still fixed intently on Fantexi in the arena, as if he hadn’t given up yet... Seriously? What the hell was he hoping for now?

"Victory," Ma Tianci said with a smile, stroking his long beard.

"Ancient Fist Hard Elbow is hailed as the ultimate rigid fist technique—clean, decisive, and ruthlessly powerful," Zhao Feiyuan remarked with a faint smile. The Ma Family was the Zhao Family’s right-hand ally, so praising their success was a given.

The so-called 'soft overcoming hard' only applied when forces were evenly matched, where endurance often favored the soft. But when 'hard' overpowered 'soft,' it was absolute devastation. There was no such thing as an absolute strongest martial art or soul seed in this world—only the strength of the wielder mattered.

Zhao Feiyuan, now confident, chuckled and said, "Brother Changsheng, would you like to announce the result of this match?"

Fu Changsheng also wore a smile. The strongest captain of Xifeng Holy Sanctuary, Zhao Ziyue, hadn’t even fought yet, and they were already at match point. Meanwhile, Rose’s strongest fighter, Winnie Lee—once hailed as a top-ten contender after her evolution—could no longer participate. The outcome was all but decided. Though Xifeng Holy Sanctuary still had several challenges ahead, having Rose fall here would be the best way to uphold the dignity of the top ten.

The cheering stands gradually fell silent, though the spectators still wore triumphant smiles as they awaited the official announcement.

Fu Changsheng stood up. "The third match, Xifeng Holy Sanctuary—"

"W-wait!"

A slurred voice rang out—something like 'Dun-dun!' The crowd froze, turning their attention to the center, where the bloodied, foaming-mouthed fat man who had just collapsed was now sitting up again.

Ma Suo, reveling in victory, froze. He turned to look at Fantexi, now struggling upright.

Fantexi’s jaw was a mangled, deformed wreck, his words slurred and whistling through the gaps.

He looked far from okay, but weirdly, his spirit was still kicking. He fumbled for the leather pouch at his waist and yanked it open.

Even in this state, he could still move?

The crowd gaped. A healing potion? Ma Suo’s eyes widened. He was close enough to stop him effortlessly, but when Fantexi uncorked the pouch, the scent of alcohol wafted out instead.

...Drinking?