This Human Immortal Is Too Serious-Chapter 472 - 470

Winning... Truly winning was impossible. He could only use strategies to force a draw, barely managing to learn his teacher's unique skills while discreetly announcing his presence in the town.

Wu Wang waved to Jin Wei. His face, brimming with smiles one moment, turned stern the next. Weathered by half a year of wind and sun, it no longer held its delicate look. He stood proudly on the right side of the platform.

Since ancient times, the one on the left in a confrontation always loses!

"Junior Brother, don't be too nervous," Dong Gao announced loudly. "Who will come to win this Beast Blood?"

Behind the gates of the General's residence, several young men were shoving each other. Eventually, four or five hands collectively pushed out the skinniest one among them.

Dong Gao frowned at the sight but still managed a gentle smile.

"Please, come up to the platform!"

"M-me?"

The young man turned and glared at the people behind the gate, but being at a competitive age, he didn't want to lose face in front of so many people. He immediately cupped his hands in a salute and stepped forward.

After the two introduced themselves and stood facing each other, Dong Gao said, "Stop when a clear hit is made," then turned and stepped down from the platform.

The several hundred town residents quieted down, their eyes fixed on the two young men on the platform.

They all knew, in truth, that any genuinely exceptional young people would have already sought masters in the big cities. Who would willingly stay in this remote, impoverished place? The children of the town's martial masters had long been sent away through connections.

As long as these two kids didn't end up wrestling on the ground like commoners brawling, it would be considered a decent showing.

"Please!" Wu Wang cupped his hands and called out, his left leg stepping back as he adopted a basic boxing stance, his eyes blazing with intense fighting spirit.

I cannot win, but I also cannot lose.

The opposing young man's fighting spirit was also ignited. He held his fists to his chest, lifted one leg, spread his arms wide, and shook his head vigorously. His tied-up hair quivered, his eyes sparkled, and he let out a strange cry, like the shriek of a white crane.

"KREEE!"

Spiritual Energy swirled around the young man.

Wu Wang's eyes lit up. Although this Spiritual Energy lacked both quality and quantity, it was undeniably real.

This is a Cultivator!

Wu Wang lunged forward, feigning a straightforward punch, intending to draw his opponent into a direct clash of fists!

The young man opposite him had a sharp glint in his eyes. He bent his knees and leaped, his body nimbly dodging half a zhang to the side in the blink of an eye. His eyes sparkled as he let out another strange cry:

"KREEE!"

He chooses to avoid my attack?

Wu Wang reset his stance, waited for two breaths, and seeing his opponent had settled into his stance, gave a silent nod of approval. He then leaned forward, pushed off with his feet, and launched a charging punch straight ahead!

The young man opposite him bent his knees and leaped, his body once again moving with lightning speed...

"KREEE!"

Wu Wang clenched his fists and charged forward.

"KREEE!"

"KREEE!"

"KREEE..."

With a soft grunt, Wu Wang stood firm in the center of the platform. He lifted his left foot slightly, then stomped down. The two layers of wooden boards making up the platform trembled. Suddenly, the board beneath the other young man's supporting foot shattered, and caught off guard, his leg plunged through the opening.

Wu Wang feigned another charge. The young man's hands flew open almost instinctively, and a panicked cry escaped him...

"WAH... I'm stuck! My leg is stuck!"

Two middle-aged men hurriedly jumped onto the platform.

Wu Wang cupped his hands, calmly walked to a corner of the platform, and stood there. He was filled with mixed emotions, feeling that his life was currently steeped in absurdity.

So, these young Cultivators in town aren't practicing Martial Techniques for actual combat, but rather the performance style those two middle-aged martial masters demonstrated earlier.

How can this be a draw? My opponent won't even fight me.

Dong Gao jumped back onto the platform and announced, "There was an issue with the platform, so this match is a draw! Who's next?"

Which of the young men hiding behind the gate dared to come up now?

They had all seen the force of Wu Wang's stomp. They had helped build this very platform; how could they not realize that Wu Wang was the one who made the board shatter?

Facing such an opponent would be asking for trouble. Naturally, they tried to avoid it if they could.

Dong Gao frowned and called out, "Is there anyone else...?"

Suddenly, a soft laugh came from the edge of the crowd. A female voice said, "This remote place is just as expected. Even the competitions are so perfunctory. I actually thought I might find some amusement here."

The townspeople turned to look and saw three figures, one standing and two squatting, on a nearby rooftop, having appeared there unnoticed.

The speaker was the woman standing on the eaves of the roof.

She looked to be no older than seventeen or eighteen, with a pretty face and a voluptuous figure. She wore a short skirt and a short blouse; the skirt barely covered her buttocks, revealing well-toned legs that, despite their evident strength, didn't look bulky at all.

She stood with her arms crossed, her face full of arrogance, a smirk playing on her lips.

Crouching beside this woman was a slender young man, currently staring at Wu Wang with a thoughtful expression.

Behind the young man and woman stood a middle-aged woman in pale red Battle Armor. She had two short blades at her waist and a long spear strapped to her back.

This woman watched the scene with an amused smile but remained silent.

The woman in the short skirt asked, "If I defeat this young man here, will I get the Beast Blood?"

Dong Gao replied warmly, "Of course, it will."

"Alright, I'll take him on!"

"Senior Sister, you're not his match."

The crouching young man whispered and slowly stood up. His initially calm gaze sharpened, sweeping over Wu Wang like a blade. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll win back the Beast Blood for you."

The woman in the short skirt blinked, a dazed smile on her face. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her long, shapely legs rubbed against each other in an uncharacteristically shy display.

The young man's lips twitched. With a few bounds, using three mid-air steps for leverage, he landed gracefully on the platform.

The girl on the roof trembled, cooing, "Junior Brother really likes me... Junior Brother... Oh, Junior Brother..."

The middle-aged woman stepped forward, her expression dark. She grabbed the girl, tossed her onto the roof behind them, and then turned back to watch the platform calmly.

"Mo Feng." The young man, who had just showcased his superb agility, greeted Wu Wang with a cupped fist salute, his voice clear and light.

Wu Wang returned the salute. "Qing Shan."

"I know you," Mo Feng said, his chin tilted up slightly.

Before Wu Wang could speak, the slender young man lunged. His feet moved in a rapid blur, creating two afterimages on either side of him as he simultaneously threw punches and palm strikes at Wu Wang.

His fists carried the wind; his palms held a sharp aura.

This youngster is already in the Martial Realm!

Wu Wang felt a thrill of excitement. His body instinctively tensed, ready to meet the attack head-on.

I can only use one Martial Technique.

His teacher's words echoed in his mind. Wu Wang abruptly changed his momentum. His toes dug into the platform, and as he leaned back to retreat, the muscles in his chest and abdomen tensed.

Mo Feng's punches and palms were feints. His legs whirled forward; his left foot shot out towards Wu Wang's right knee, while his right fist, index finger extended, aimed precisely at Wu Wang's neck!

In a flash, Wu Wang's palm pressed against Mo Feng's elbow. His body flipped, and he spun past Mo Feng, their backs momentarily facing each other.

At that moment, Wu Wang had a chance to win instantly. He could use his hip to bump Mo Feng off balance and follow up with a swift counterattack.

But he ultimately restrained himself.

First, this was an arena match; winning or losing wasn't a matter of life or death.

Second, His Majesty the Heavenly Emperor also had to consider the potential for extreme social embarrassment should his identity be revealed in the future.

Winning by a hip check? The story wouldn't be very flattering if it got out.

The two quickly reset their stances. After this initial exchange, Wu Wang had a preliminary grasp of Mo Feng's strength and began calculating how to force a draw.

Mo Feng, however, seemed to have his fighting spirit truly ignited. He launched a barrage of attacks at Wu Wang—sweeping kicks, flying kicks—his impressive legwork on full display.

Wu Wang dodged and weaved, repeatedly slipping past Mo Feng. Each pass looked incredibly dangerous, yet he managed to avoid any direct collision, remaining unharmed.

The townspeople below roared with excitement, their cheers unceasing.

Their expressions were a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if they were thinking, "These youngsters, damn, these youngsters are incredible!"

The few martial masters watching felt their eyelids twitch nervously, afraid that after these two finished, they might be "challenged up" next.

Their faces contorted with anxiety.

Further back in the crowd, however, Aunt Qing and Uncle Shan subconsciously gripped each other's arms, their eyes filled with tension, terrified that Wu Wang might get hurt.

Little Jin Wei, perched on Aunt Qing's shoulder, held her breath. Her small hands flailed about, subconsciously trying to grab onto something for stability, but she found not a single hair on Uncle Shan's head...

And so, the 'fierce battle' continued for a while.

Mo Feng suddenly halted his attacks, frowning at Wu Wang, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Wu Wang regarded Mo Feng with a smile, his expression calm, his breathing even.

"Your footwork is far superior to mine," Mo Feng said calmly. "I should concede. However, your constant yielding irritates me. Let us exchange one proper blow. Win or lose, I want to experience the strength of your fist."

"Alright." Wu Wang agreed, not having expected Mo Feng to be so direct.

Out of respect for his opponent, Wu Wang took a shallow breath, and the Spiritual Power within him suddenly began to circulate at an accelerated rate.

In that instant, his entire demeanor, in the eyes of Mo Feng and the townsfolk, seemed to transform.

The martial masters near the platform felt a momentary daze. It was as if they could see wisps of dark energy coiling around the young man named Qing Shan. In that instant, the world seemed to lose its color, reduced to shades of black, white, and grey. Qing Shan's face became indistinct, his figure appearing to merge with the shadows.

It felt as if a single move from him could cause mountains to crumble and the earth to split.

Or perhaps, he resembled a sovereign who ruled an entire world, now displeased with the very existence of other beings.

An imposing aura!

Opposite Wu Wang, Mo Feng's eyes widened, veins bulging on his forehead. His strength continuously gathered, yet his fists trembled slightly.

Mo Feng was enduring the imposing aura of this peer. His endurance was nearing its limit; he had reached a point where he had to choose: retreat or advance.

Suddenly, Mo Feng lunged forward, his fists clenched in a simple, unadorned attack. He let out a wordless roar, as if venting some pent-up emotion, his handsome face contorting fiercely.

Wu Wang moved almost simultaneously. His imposing aura coalesced into the punch he threw, which collided head-on with Mo Feng's fist.

BANG!

The muffled impact shook everywhere. Ripples of Spiritual Energy spread out in all directions.

This solid exchange of blows made the ordinary onlookers, who didn't understand the intricacies, flinch, fearing one of the fists might have shattered.

Just then, cracking sounds erupted from all over the platform. The four sides of its wooden frame collapsed simultaneously. Wu Wang, seemingly prepared, descended steadily, grabbing Mo Feng's wrist and pulling his opponent towards him.

Mo Feng's eyes were wide with shock. He unconsciously clenched his fist.

There was nothing wrong with it.

It felt as if he had punched a wad of cotton. The force of the impact seemed to have been completely absorbed by Wu Wang's fist and, inexplicably, transferred to the platform beneath them.

How did he do that?

Even with a brilliant technique for redirecting force, how could he have nullified all my strength while simultaneously throwing a punch…

"How did you do that?"

Mo Feng grabbed Wu Wang's arm in turn, staring as he demanded, "That technique just now!"

"Are you two alright?"

A crowd quickly gathered around them, looking at the two with concern.

"With Spiritual Power."

Wu Wang replied with a smile. With a slight tremor of his arm, he dislodged Mo Feng's grip. Mo Feng stumbled back half a step, only able to watch as Wu Wang slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

"A draw!" Dong Gao announced with a smile, though Mo Feng was still lost in thought.

Mo Feng clearly remembered the words his master had spoken to him on their journey…

'So, you think that just because you won the annual competition at your Martial Academy, reaching the sixth-grade Martial Master realm at your age is good enough? This time, Master is taking you to visit your Grandmaster. He heard about your rapid progress in cultivation and wants to offer you some guidance. Your Grandmaster recently accepted a new, young disciple—who is now your Junior Uncle-Master. He has only been cultivating for half a year, but his strength has increased with astonishing speed. Your Grandmaster wants you to go so you understand that there's always someone better, always a higher mountain to climb.'

"Mo Feng, are you hurt anywhere?"

His master's voice snapped Mo Feng out of his daze. He shook his head, his expression still somewhat wooden.

"Master, was that my Junior…"

"Junior Brother!"

A fragrant breeze washed over him, and the tearful cry sent shivers down Mo Feng's spine.

Before he could dodge, his Senior Sister, who had rushed to his side, threw her arms around him and shook him vigorously. The soft, yielding sensation through the thin fabric made Mo Feng instinctively try to squirm out of her embrace.

Truly an innocent, inexperienced youth.

「An hour later, at Old Qiu's home.」

"What? *He's* our Junior Uncle-Master?"

The courtyard was quite lively. Old Qiu sat in his wooden chair, smiling as he observed the three young people before him.

Behind Old Qiu, beside Qiu Li and Dong Gao, stood a new figure: Chun Luan, the middle-aged woman in Battle Armor with the long spear.

In front of Old Qiu, Wu Wang stood respectfully, dressed in a short tunic and leg bindings, looking somewhat reserved.

Beside Wu Wang were Chun Luan's two disciples. One was Mo Feng, the nineteen-year-old sixth-grade martial master who had fought Wu Wang. He was a renowned Martial Arts Prodigy with an illustrious family background, and had been Chun Luan's disciple since childhood.

The vivacious girl clinging to Mo Feng's arm was Fu Er, a first-grade martial master and Mo Feng's childhood sweetheart. It seemed they were destined to continue growing up together.

Chun Luan's face was stern. "You two, aren't you going to greet him? Don't be ill-mannered!"

Mo Feng cupped his hands, bowed to Wu Wang, and said formally, "Disciple Mo Feng pays his respects to Junior Uncle-Master Qing Shan."

"You're too kind," Wu Wang replied with a smile, returning the salute.

Fu Er sized up Wu Wang, asking dubiously, "Are you even as old as I am?"

Wu Wang smiled but said nothing.

Just as Fu Er was about to speak up for her precious Junior Brother, Chun Luan interjected with a dark expression, "Behave yourself, or I'll spank you!"

"Hmph! So what if he's an Uncle-Master? He still hit my Junior Brother earlier."

"Senior Sister," Mo Feng whispered, "Uncle-Master was going easy on me. He likely recognized my identity. In the end, he even used a clever trick to shatter the platform, preserving my dignity. It's truly impolite of you to speak like that."

Fu Er blinked. Her attitude towards Wu Wang changed instantly. She bowed respectfully. "Very well then. Greetings, Little Uncle-Master."

Wu Wang thought, She just had to add the 'Little'.

"No need for such formality, Martial Niece, Martial Nephew," Wu Wang said with a smile, cupping his hands. "I only started cultivating recently myself and haven't accumulated much. I'm afraid I don't have any meeting gifts for you."

Mo Feng asked, "Junior Uncle-Master, you've truly only been cultivating for half a year?"

"Yes."

"Then, Junior Uncle-Master, how did you perform that technique earlier?" Mo Feng inquired. "I've also practiced methods of using Spiritual Power to neutralize force, but I always found them of little use, and they often risk causing one's Spiritual Power to surge internally."

"You must view your Spiritual Power as an integrated whole," Wu Wang explained. "The pathways through which your Spiritual Power circulates must be interconnected and flow continuously. The key to transforming incoming force with Spiritual Power is not to see your Spiritual Power as a river, but as a vast lake or ocean. Use the tides of this great ocean to respond to the ebb and flow of the force."

Mo Feng fell into deep thought.

The three seniors—Qiu Li, Dong Gao, and Chun Luan—also wore contemplative expressions.

Old Qiu chuckled. "Starting the lecture already?"

"This disciple wouldn't dare."

"Enough," Old Qiu said, his eyes filled with emotion. "This last disciple I've taken... it must be the Martial God's blessing. Such exceptional insight... Chun Luan?"

"Disciple is here!"

"I called you back this time primarily for two reasons: to have you spar with your Little Junior Brother, and to tell him about the world outside," Old Qiu said warmly.

"Among my current disciples, you are the most steady. Both Qiu Li and Dong Gao have old injuries and cannot display the full might of a Martial Soul expert.

Young Cultivators are most prone to impatience and rashness. I want you to temper Qing Shan a bit for me.

Coincidentally, I plan to teach Qing Shan the Destroying Cloud Technique tomorrow. You can have your two disciples observe as well."

"Yes, Master!" Chun Luan's face lit up with joy. "You two, quickly thank your Grandmaster!"

Mo Feng's eyes burned with eagerness as he gave Old Qiu a deep bow. Fu Er, too, was quite earnest and properly showed her respect.

Chun Luan looked at Wu Wang and smiled. "Little Junior Brother, what realm are you in now?"

"First-grade martial master," Wu Wang replied, lightly clenching his fist and giving it a quick shake to the side. A faint, shadowy imprint of a fist shot out.

"In half a year?" Chun Luan asked, surprised.

"Yes," Wu Wang added. "I've been building my strength and constitution since I was young."

CRACK, CRACKLE...

Chun Luan pressed down on her own palm, her knuckles cracking audibly. A bright smile touched her lips, but a palpable, blood-red aura began to emanate from her.

"A prodigy, are you?" Her smile widened. "Your Eldest Senior Sister here particularly enjoys knocking prodigies down a peg or two. Tsk, tsk. I'll use roughly the strength of a third-grade martial master. Show me everything you've got!"

"Eldest Senior Sister!" Qiu Li called out urgently. "You should probably use the strength of a ninth-grade martial master... No, use your Martial Soul Realm strength! Little Junior Brother is... a bit strange."

"That would be bullying him too much," Chun Luan waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it's fine. It's not a big deal. Do you think my two hundred years of experience fighting on battlefields count for nothing?"

Wu Wang nodded solemnly. He knew that the first true test since he began his cultivation was about to begin.

I must give it my all!

「Thus, after three cups of tea had passed.」

A potent aura erupted from the small courtyard. The clouds in the sky seemed to freeze, and the Spiritual Energy for hundreds of miles around surged violently.

In Old Qiu's courtyard, Chun Luan, the female general, lay in a pit in the ground, her body trembling slightly. Her Martial Spirit-level strength erupted, her aura shooting into the sky like a pillar, and her hovering spear let out a series of tiger-like roars!

"Little Junior Brother, let's go again! Eldest Senior Sister will use just a teensy... tiny... bit more strength this time."

Wu Wang raised his hand and rubbed his nose.

Well, she certainly got fired up.