Martial Immortality: Starting with the Spirit Beast Scroll

There was a brief fifteen-minute rest between the round of thirty-two and the round of sixteen. The disciples waiting to compete took the opportunity to regulate their breathing and recover their stamina, while the elders gave them last-minute strategic advice.

Zhao Lin was in peak physical condition, so Yang Lin had no particular advice to give. Instead, he emitted a focused beam of ultrasound toward the Xiuzhao viewing stand to eavesdrop on how Zhao Lin’s opponent, Jiang Pu, was preparing for the match.

Jiang Pu’s uncle, the Cyan Bamboo Sect elder Jiang Zhengyang, said, "Ah Pu, Zhao Lin surpasses you in both strength and speed. Your only advantage is your technique."

"When the match starts, you absolutely cannot fight conventionally. If you want to win as the underdog, you must take a risk and win by surprise. Do you understand?"

Jiang Pu nodded emphatically. "Uncle, I understand. I’ll open with the Twisted-Step Elbow-Break and then adapt as the situation develops!"

Jiang Zhengyang grunted in affirmation and lowered his voice. "From his previous matches, it’s obvious Zhao Lin hasn’t been using his full strength. I’m sure he wants to hold some moves in reserve for the stronger opponents he’ll face later, like Bolta and Basang."

"And that is precisely your opportunity!"

Hearing this, Zhao Lin’s heart skipped a beat. ’It’s true what they say: the older the ginger, the spicier it gets,’ he thought. The old man had effortlessly seen right through his plans.

’And what kind of opening was this Twisted-Step Elbow-Break?’

Fifteen minutes passed in a flash. The round of sixteen had officially begun.

Since there were only eight matches, each one was critical. Thus, the matches would be held one at a time, with the next one beginning only after the previous one concluded.

The first match: Liu Feiyang versus Basang.

This was the most predictable match of the top sixteen. During the break, an elder from the Southern Suppression Sect had even advised Liu Feiyang to forfeit. After all, his performance had already far exceeded expectations. But Liu Feiyang himself still wanted to get on the stage and give it a try.

The moment the match began, Liu Feiyang immediately retreated, putting distance between himself and Basang.

Facing such a powerful opponent, he knew he had little chance of winning. He planned to use his Body Technique to stay on the stage for as long as possible.

It was possible that Zhao Lin would face Basang in the final match. If Liu Feiyang could force Basang to reveal a bit more of his strength, it would be a small help to Zhao Lin.

Basang gave a cold smirk. He didn’t pursue immediately. Instead, he crouched slightly, like a cheetah, and slowly stalked toward Liu Feiyang.

He appeared to be moving slowly, but his steps were precise, cutting off every possible escape route for Liu Feiyang.

Liu Feiyang continuously shifted his position, but with just a casual shuffle of his feet, Basang left him with no way out.

Watching from below the stage, Zhao Lin felt that Basang had likely never practiced any formal footwork. Instead, he possessed the intuition of a wild beast, every step landing in exactly the right place.

After only ten breaths’ time, Liu Feiyang was forced into a corner of the stage.

’Forget it. Staying alive is more important.’

Liu Feiyang sighed, leaped into a backflip, and landed gracefully below the stage.

"Basang wins..."

The arbiter elder announced the result of the match. A smattering of applause arose from the Wuche viewing stand, but everyone else remained impassive.

"Senior Brother Zhao, be careful."

"Senior Brother Zhao, you’ll definitely win!"

When it was Zhao Lin’s turn, the disciples of Great Yue all cheered him on.

"Thank you!"

Zhao Lin turned and gave a cupped-fist salute, then strode away from his seat and walked straight onto the stage.

"A pleasure to meet you!"

On the stage, Zhao Lin and Jiang Pu exchanged cupped-fist salutes, then stood motionless.

"One... two..."

As the arbiter elder called out the count, Zhao Lin noticed Jiang Pu’s shoulders drop and his knees bend slightly. He mentally put his guard up.

’Is he going to try to seize the initiative?’

"Three!"

The word had barely fallen when Jiang Pu rushed forward with a quick preparatory step.

Zhao Lin stepped forward to meet him, raising his right arm, prepared to counter any move with a solid defense. But suddenly, Jiang Pu’s left foot stamped forward in a reverse step. He used a sweeping motion to advance, then followed the momentum with a reverse flick of his leg.

Before Zhao Lin could react, Jiang Pu pivoted on his left foot, brought his right foot forward to cross his legs into a Jade Ring Stance, and then spun his body...

With a dazzling flurry of movements, Jiang Pu circled to Zhao Lin’s side and thrust his right arm forward, striking out with a flat elbow.

Zhao Lin was inwardly surprised. His opponent had used such a complex series of moves to compensate for his lack of strength and speed, successfully seizing the initiative!

These few moves incorporated at least three different fist styles, yet Jiang Pu had woven them together seamlessly.

This elbow strike, in particular, looked simple and unadorned, but it concealed a malicious intent.

The move was called the Nine-Section Whip Elbow, derived from an ancient weapon called the Nine-Section Whip.

A Nine-Section Whip, when swung, resembles a solid staff. But if an opponent tries to block it with a weapon, the front section of the whip simply wraps around the block to strike them down.

Jiang Pu was using Continuous Fist; every strike concealed a follow-up. His fist was hidden at his chest, ready to shoot out for a second attack the moment Zhao Lin committed to blocking the elbow.

If it landed, he would immediately follow up with a headbutt and a whip kick. No matter how skilled his opponent, they would end up flat on the stage.

Several elders from the Xingyun Sect saw the danger and broke out in a cold sweat for Zhao Lin. Some even stood up in their nervousness.

Although Zhao Lin had never seen this move before, his combat experience was rich. He immediately stepped back and turned to avoid the brunt of the attack, simultaneously pushing out a single, flat palm toward Jiang Pu’s chest.

Zhao Lin had an extremely long reach. If Jiang Pu didn’t change his move, he would surely be struck by the palm before his own elbow could land.

Jiang Pu was shocked that Zhao Lin had found the correct counter so quickly. He immediately flipped his elbow downward, sidestepped, and then clawed at Zhao Lin’s chest with three fingers shaped like a hook.

At the same time, he sent out a feinting step, ready to press the attack if Zhao Lin dodged.

This time, Zhao Lin didn’t dodge. He also extended three fingers to meet Jiang Pu’s claw hand. Simultaneously, he lifted his leg and stomped down hard on Jiang Pu’s instep.

’Stomp on the instep?’

Jiang Pu had never seen such a bizarre move. Startled, he spread his legs in an ungainly way to avoid Zhao Lin’s foot.

Seizing the moment while his opponent was off-balance, Zhao Lin brought his knee up, striking toward the man’s groin.

Jiang Pu had no choice but to retreat a step.

Zhao Lin pressed his advantage, dropping his leg, retracting his clawed hand, and throwing a punch—all in one smooth motion—directly at Jiang Pu’s chest.

Jiang Pu was a master of over a dozen Cultivation Techniques and had practiced nearly a hundred different Fist and Palm Skills. He had always held the upper hand in technique when fighting others, but this time, every step was fraught with peril. The thousands of moves in his mind suddenly seemed useless.

Left with no other choice, he could only meet Zhao Lin’s blow head-on.

The moment their fists met, the difference in their power was obvious. Jiang Pu was forced back seven or eight steps.

Zhao Lin shot forward, closing the distance and sending out a palm strike. As he rushed, his toes tapped the ground continuously, his body swaying unpredictably, making it impossible to tell which direction his attack was coming from.

With no way to evade, Jiang Pu met the palm with one of his own and was sent flying off the stage by Zhao Lin’s immense force.

He was airborne, but he didn’t fall. Instead, his body circled above the stage like a hawk.

Zhao Lin knew the rules stated a contestant’s feet could not leave the ground for more than five breaths. He wasn’t worried, standing calmly on the stage and waiting for him to come down.

Jiang Pu, of course, also knew he couldn’t stay up there for long. He tried several times to find a spot to land, but Zhao Lin blocked his path each time, preventing his descent.

In the end, he could only regretfully abandon the thought of continuing the fight and land directly on the ground below the stage.

"Zhao Lin wins," the arbiter elder announced loudly.

Zhao Lin let out a soft breath. It was said that even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit. Though the match had been brief, it had not been an easy victory, and had even contained moments of genuine danger.