Lying Low in the Martial World to Become a Saint-Chapter 59 - 55: Fist Duel

The next day, Cheng Ming rushed nonstop to the Jinghong Martial Arts Hall to find Jiang Yang.

Jiang Yang stopped what he was doing. Seeing Cheng Ming’s grave expression, he asked, "Brother Ming, you came looking for me in such a rush. Is something wrong?"

Cheng Ming got straight to the point, his tone heavy. "It’s about the Goddess Temple Pier. The Wu Family... is forcing us into a duel to the death!"

"A duel?!"

Jiang Yang’s eyelid twitched. His face instantly filled with reluctance. "Brother Ming, you know as well as I do... my injuries from my last attempt at a breakthrough have never fully healed."

He heaved a heavy sigh, as if heartbroken. "Even if I risk my life and force myself into the ring, facing Tian Yaosong... I’m afraid my chances are slim to none."

Jiang Yang had long known of the grudge between the Wu and Cheng Families, and he was even more aware of Tian Yaosong’s strength.

He had prepared this excuse long ago.

Cheng Ming’s heart plummeted.

Looking at Jiang Yang’s evasive expression, a chill mixed with disappointment washed over him.

’The Treasure Medicine Spirit Fish the Cheng Family spared no expense to provide... even if it couldn’t restore him to his peak, it shouldn’t have led to him being so evasive.’

’He never imagined that the Cheng Family’s all-out support would be met with such cold-hearted rejection.’

Cheng Ming returned to the River Department, dejected, his face a mask of despair and anxiety.

"Chief."

Chen Qing, who had just gotten off duty at the Zhou Institute, could tell at a glance that something was wrong with Cheng Ming. "What happened?"

Cheng Ming looked up at Chen Qing, gave a bitter smile, and explained everything—the Wu Family’s ultimatum and Jiang Yang’s refusal.

He added with deep regret, "Ah Qing, I’m afraid we’ll have to reduce your sponsorship from now on..."

If the Cheng Family’s foundation was taken, their sponsorships would naturally be unsustainable.

Chen Qing fell silent for a moment upon hearing this.

’With my current strength,’ he mused, ’and the significant boost from my progress in the Fishing Toad Force, my chances of winning against an ordinary master at Great Success in Dark Force are over ninety-eight percent.’

Cheng Ming patted his shoulder and turned to leave, his figure looking desolate.

"Chief,"

Chen Qing said, "I’ll take this fight."

Cheng Ming whirled around, his eyes filled with disbelief. "You... you’re really willing?"

A small smile touched Chen Qing’s lips as he nodded. "I’ve been sponsored by the Cheng Family for a long time. It’s about time I pulled my weight. I can’t just take without giving anything back, right?"

Ever since he reached Manifest Force, Cheng Ming had sponsored him unconditionally, providing meat and Qi Replenishing Powder monthly. That support had even doubled when he reached Dark Force.

"Ah Qing..."

Cheng Ming’s heart warmed, and his eyes began to sting.

’The Cheng Family is weak, after all. The resources we’ve given Chen Qing can’t be called generous.’

’When we first sponsored him, it was more because we valued his diligence and down-to-earth nature. We never dreamed he would become the Martial Scholar he is today.’

’Normally, someone with such meager sponsorship would just be maintaining ties. He could have just stood by and done nothing in a matter like this duel.’

"Good! Good!"

Cheng Ming nodded emphatically, suppressing his excitement. "I’ll tell you everything I know about this Tian Yaosong. You must know your enemy!"

Chen Qing nodded.

"Tian Yaosong’s main practice is the seventeen-form Mountain-Breaking Hand. It’s rumored he has already reached the Great Success Realm in Dark Force..."

Cheng Ming relayed all the information he had.

According to him, Tian Yaosong had already tempered his Dark Force throughout his entire body, with only the two most difficult points—the Baihui and Yongquan—left to penetrate.

Once he succeeded, he would reach Dark Force Perfection. From there, he would be just one step away from the Transmutation Force Realm—a state where "not a feather can be added, nor a fly can land."

Of course, a true battle to the death wasn’t just about the level of one’s Power tempering. It also depended on one’s comprehension of Fist Techniques, experience with Body Techniques, adaptability, and knowledge of the opponent.

After listening, Chen Qing’s brow furrowed slightly. "Chief, can you get me the manual for the Mountain-Breaking Hand’s Fighting Method? I don’t need the Fundamental Diagram; the Fighting Method alone will be enough."

It was the fastest way to understand an opponent’s moves and techniques.

"No problem!" Cheng Ming immediately agreed. "I’ll go look for it right now!"

Soon, Cheng Ming placed a manual detailing the basic moves of the Mountain-Breaking Hand’s Fighting Method into Chen Qing’s hands.

Chen Qing immediately immersed himself in it, studying it intently.

Long Arm Fist emphasized fierce, domineering power and flexible, varied movements. The Mountain-Breaking Hand, however, was completely different. It pursued the concentration of the body’s entire power into a single point, forming a "line" or "dot" with extreme Penetration Power. It sought to break through defenses in a single strike, rather than overwhelming an opponent with a broad surface of force.

Chen Qing repeatedly pondered the secrets of its condensation and explosive release.

Time slipped by in his concentration, and in the blink of an eye, it was the morning two days later.

A simple horse-drawn carriage stopped at the entrance of the Chen Family Courtyard.

Seeing Chen Qing emerge, the Cheng Family’s Steward bowed respectfully. "Master Chen, please get in." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"My thanks."

Chen Qing gave a slight nod, boarded the carriage, and closed his eyes to focus his mind.

The carriage galloped along unimpeded, and about fifteen minutes later, it came to a steady halt at the Goddess Temple Pier.

"Master Chen, we’ve arrived," the Steward said in a low voice.

Chen Qing lifted the curtain and stepped out of the carriage.

In the center of the pier, an open space had been cleared where a temporary dueling platform had been erected.

Awnings were set up on both sides, and underneath them sat rows of shopkeepers dressed in silk and satin.

The outcome of the pier dispute between the Wu and Cheng Families would directly affect their future livelihoods, so no one dared to take it lightly.

"Ah Qing!"

Cheng Ming hurried over to him, his expression grave. He lowered his voice and pointed to the opposite awning. "Those are the people from the Wu Family. The woman is the young mistress, Wu Manqing, and the man beside her is Tian Yaosong! Be extremely careful in the duel today!"

Chen Qing’s gaze was sharp as he looked in the direction Cheng Ming indicated.

Under the opposite awning, a young woman in a pale yellow dress, Wu Manqing, had delicate features tinged with a cold severity.

Beside her stood Tian Yaosong, built like an iron tower. The muscles beneath his short tunic were clearly defined. He was now staring back coldly, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

Their gazes landed on Chen Qing and his group as well.

Wu Manqing lifted her teacup and took a delicate sip. Her voice was quiet, yet it carried undeniable pressure. "Master Tian, the stakes today are high. See that you don’t disappoint me."

A cold smirk played on Tian Yaosong’s lips, his gaze still locked on Chen Qing. "Rest assured, Madam Wu. He’s just a Third-Class Martial Scholar... I know what needs to be done. I will ensure you are satisfied."

His disdain was palpable in his words.

Cheng Ming offered a few more hushed words of caution before returning to his seat under the Cheng Family’s awning, his expression fraught with worry.

The life-and-death contract for the duel had already been signed before Chen Qing’s arrival. Today’s victor would take sole ownership of the pier; the vanquished would be barred from it forever.

DONG! A gong rang out.

Tian Yaosong was the first to rise. He strode to the center of the platform with the bearing of a predator, his presence overwhelming.

Chen Qing, his expression calm, walked forward at a measured pace and stood opposite Tian Yaosong.

"I heard the one the Cheng Family sent is a disciple of Zhou Liang, the one who practices Long Arm Fist."

"Has the Cheng Family run out of fighters? Why send him up? Tian Yaosong has been a renowned master for years!"

"Looks like a desperate measure to me..."

"Not necessarily. The kid is this year’s Martial Scholar, after all. He must have some skill, right?"

...

A wave of hushed but excited discussion swept through the crowd beneath the awnings.

Cheng Huan sat in the main seat, his palms soaked with sweat, oblivious to his fingernails digging deep into his flesh.

The very survival of the Cheng Family rested entirely on the shoulders of the young man on the platform.

Several of the younger Cheng Family disciples stared at Chen Qing’s youthful face, their hearts filled with doubt and apprehension.

’Is he really a match for Tian Yaosong!?’

Tian Yaosong looked at Chen Qing, who stood a few paces away, and suddenly broke into a grin. His voice boomed, "Brother Chen, you and I are strangers, with no enmity between us. Yet here we are, forced to trade blows on this platform. Fate truly is a fickle thing; life is so unpredictable."

Though his words sounded wistful, his eyes held a certain gravity, with no trace of his earlier contempt.

Everyone knew that fists and feet had no eyes. When Martial Artists fought—especially in a formal duel with such high stakes—death and crippling injuries were commonplace.

Martial Arts were fundamentally Killing Techniques. In a life-or-death struggle, who could afford to hold back?

Chen Qing said coolly, "In the Jianghu, the road is narrow, and our hands are tied."

Hearing this, a flicker of understanding passed through Tian Yaosong’s eyes, and the gravity in them deepened.

He gave a slow, almost subconscious nod. The wistful curve of his lips vanished, replaced by pure focus.

Those eleven words... he understood them. All too well.

This wasn’t some philosophical lament; it was a tacit declaration. Once on this platform, only their fists could do the talking.

"Let the duel—begin!"

With that clear, sharp cry, the entire bustling pier fell into a dead silence.

Only the river wind, moaning as it swept across the open water and rustled a few dead leaves, added to the grim, murderous atmosphere.

On the platform, the two men’s gazes clashed in mid-air like lightning. The invisible aura between them stretched taut.

...