Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 39: Seven Steps

At some point, a young man had appeared atop the high platform, sleepy-eyed and indifferent, gazing down at the Prince of Yan and his entourage.

"How dare you! The heir to the prince is not someone you can belittle. There's no need for him to step forward!"

Someone immediately protested, eager to teach a lesson on the prince's behalf.

"Get lost! Who are you to block my path?" The youth in azure grew even more incensed, unleashing his internal energy with a shout.

The man who had stepped forward to defend the prince suddenly halted, blood trickling from his seven orifices, stunned for a long moment. That shout had shaken his internal energy, causing havoc within him.

Others who had considered intervening instinctively shrank back, unwilling to stand out. This was no longer a game—things had escalated beyond their reach.

"Give your name!" The prince rose, unconcerned, ready to use his opponent as a stepping stone. "I never fight those without a name."

"A crude martial artist like you is not worthy of knowing my name," the azure-clad youth retorted with a cold laugh, glancing at them. "With your current skills, you still hope to gather the talents of the realm? It's laughable. True masters disdain such gatherings. In Fucheng today, among our peers, only I and the Crown Prince of Jin have real strength!"

Arrogant beyond measure, he clearly looked down on this so-called assembly—and its participants. It seemed as though the prince and his friends were merely entertaining themselves, unconcerned with future embarrassment.

"Prince!"

"Prince!"

A chorus of voices rang out across the grounds. The prince had built his momentum, and now, seeing the tide in his favor, he was ready to act.

Though he was not as extraordinary as Wang Chuan, nor had he broken through to the Heavenly Stage, he was no less impressive than the Sixth Prince of Wei. Already halfway to the Heavenly Stage, he had tempered his martial path since childhood, his foundation solid, and his techniques refined—far superior to ordinary men. He was not only more talented than others, but also more diligent.

He strove so hard so that, when the time was right, his father might ascend to the throne of Yu. After all, when the Lord of Yu passed after a century, the Prince of Yan held the strongest claim to succession. It may take a long time, but it mattered not—he was still young. Thus, he must grow stronger, ever stronger.

Everyone believed in his strength, convinced he would not lose. This youth in azure, who appeared out of nowhere, was nothing; the strong dragon does not suppress the local snake. At best, he was only marginally superior to ordinary people.

Under the gaze of all, the prince rose slowly, his eyes calm. "Such theatrics are useless. Defeating you will be effortless."

The crowd erupted with excitement. The prince's entry pushed the gathering to its peak, and shouts from spectators echoed all around. His ambition was to become the foremost figure in Yu, to prove his family's worth to the world. Thus, his popularity and prestige soared, unmatched.

"How ridiculous, arrogant beyond measure," the azure youth sneered.

Outrage!

The prince's fury flared instantly. His opponent's demeanor showed utter disregard, not even treating him as a worthy adversary.

Battle intent surged in his eyes; his martial energy roared through him like an iron torrent, fierce and wild, the aura of a strongman sweeping across the field.

"I hear the Crown Prince of Jin can compose poetry in seven steps. Let me try—seven steps, one man!" The youth spoke calmly, breezily, his robes billowing, exuding the bearing and style of a master.

The prince's expression darkened further, but he forced himself to remain composed, lest his mind be unsettled. His hands struck repeatedly, light and shadow interwoven, layers of real and false moves entwined, confusing the opponent.

A sudden burst—

Two fingers thrust, as sharp as a divine weapon, stabbing at his opponent's chest—an authentic killing move, intent on ending the duel in one strike.

But the azure youth was not so easily defeated. His face was unmoved, feet planted, palm raised.

A thunderous crash—

An unremarkable blow struck precisely at the prince's weakest point of energy, landing on his protective aura. A refined internal force surged in like thunder.

The prince's blood churned; his chest shuddered, and he almost lost his footing.

One step!

The youth advanced, hands forming seals, strange gestures stirring the surrounding energy. He struck directly at the prince, a force fierce beyond words, shaking the prince so that he spat blood on the spot.

Reeling, the prince retreated several steps, terror-stricken.

One strike—so terrifying!

The crowd was already on its feet, stunned by such power. The Prince of Yan had schemed to shine, yet now his fortunes were overturned—his luck stolen, reduced to another's stepping stone.

Yang Hao watched with grave expression, sensing a shadow of Wang Chuan in the youth. Was it merely his obsession with Wang Chuan that caused this illusion? Yet this youth was calm as a still pond, explosive as thunder. The image in his mind persisted, gradually merging.

It seemed as though the youth was imitating Wang Chuan to some degree.

This outcome shocked many prodigies present—completely unexpected. If it were Wang Chuan, the effect might be the same—no, even stronger. Perhaps he would not need to take a single step; one blow would suffice to annihilate his foe.

That was Wang Chuan's true strength.

Yet this youth in azure was no less terrifying—how far could he go? No one seemed able to tell; his attacks followed some optimal trajectory, harmonizing with the environment.

Yang Hao sensed something marvelous in the youth's moves—a feeling he had only ever gleaned from Wang Chuan's actions. Yet with Wang Chuan, the impression was tenfold stronger.

No wonder the youth looked down on all, but admired Wang Chuan.

Such was the true genius—beyond reach, beyond imagination.

Two steps.

The azure youth advanced again. His hands formed seals swiftly, striking out, martial energy slicing through the air like a razor.

A thunderous boom—

The prince's face was icy, unleashing near-peak advanced boxing. He had immersed himself in martial arts for years; his opponent appeared younger—how could he lose?

He combined advanced footwork and internal techniques, even refining his body to the utmost...

The Prince of Yan's strength was unimaginable; in every aspect, he had no weakness. He had practiced advanced martial arts since childhood, received guidance from masters hired at great expense, supplemented his training with rare treasures—far beyond ordinary men.

Breaking through to the Heavenly Stage would be easy for him, but he was patient, forging himself with great resolve, building up for a powerful release.

Boom—

Fist and palm collided, the impact massive.

A fierce crash split the stage, cracks radiating outward; waves of energy exploded in layers.

Yet the azure youth remained unmoved, holding the posture of his latest step, as steady as a mountain.

The prince staggered, nearly collapsing, his body numb, almost losing consciousness. His energy was in chaos, though he forced it down.

"What martial art is this?"

"Such a prodigious youth—how could he be unknown?"

"He is terrifying, as are Wang Chuan and his peers. How can we not despair to live in the same era?"

The crowd was in uproar, voices buzzing.

The prince kept his cool, searching for opportunity. He still had a chance—he could turn the tide!

His figure darted about, seeking his opponent's weak points from all directions, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his brow, his face flushed.

The match had only just begun, yet each response to the youth's moves drained him immensely, exhausting his energy and focus.

At this rate, he would be worn down entirely.

Meanwhile, the azure youth stood in perfect composure, barely moving.

At last, the prince found an opening and advanced.

Three steps.

The move looked ordinary, but the youth's seals were uncanny, their technique unknown.

Every move seemed to counter him perfectly.

Sometimes, with equal energy and force, the youth easily dispersed his attacks; his martial arts seemed to align with some invisible principle, defeating the enemy without a trace.

If Wang Chuan were present, he would see it instantly.

This was the realm of mastery—where martial arts are perfected and integrated.

Any style could be picked up with ease, thoroughly mastered.

With the third step, the youth's hands moved in harmony with his blood and breath, forming another seal, the momentum astounding.

Whoosh—

The prince finally seemed to get serious, his movement technique reaching its peak, years of effort and talent brought to bear in this battle.

Fast!

Even faster!

The youth's seal missed for once.

The crowd was exhilarated; the prince was still the prince—he could not be underestimated.

His speed was nearly invisible to the naked eye; imagining oneself facing him, one would have no chance at all.

A string of attacks exploded in rapid succession.

The prince circled his opponent, but was repeatedly struck away by the azure youth.

Though he could evade his opponent's attacks, he could not land a blow himself.

The match seemed deadlocked.

Four steps.

Now the youth moved again.

Each movement drew attention, rippling through the crowd.

He had claimed he would defeat his foe in seven steps—no one had believed him then.

But now, seeing his power, they had to admit he could do it.

In this situation, with the prince slightly ahead, was he dissatisfied, or merely proud?

He had said seven steps—so seven steps it was. No hesitation, no delay, no wasted effort.

With this step, his momentum grew, hands forming seals and sweeping aside several attacks.

In that instant, Yang Hao seemed to see the youth's ears twitching, moving at high frequency.

Only for a moment, then all was calm.

The realm of mastery—subtle and seamless. If Wang Chuan were here, he would not need to search for or lock onto his opponent's movements.

In the face of true strength, all resistance is futile.

The azure youth had not reached that level, but had his own tactics.

His seal swept out, dividing energy like parting a river; the prince's movement faltered, his energy blocked, leaving him seemingly nowhere to escape.

The youth sneered, advancing another step.

The battle neared its end—

The fifth step.