C20 Yang Hu's Battle

Among these three individuals, one has attained the third level of Body Tempering, while the other two are at the second level. Chu Lin cast a fleeting, indifferent glance their way, feeling a touch of helplessness. Their strength didn't even measure up to Yu Chen's henchmen. Yet, here they were, brazenly strutting around Raven's Pass, inviting inevitable retribution.

"If I were in your shoes, I'd be quick to pay respects to Senior Brother Shen," the burly man barked out once more. He gestured towards the lavishly dressed young man before him, his demeanor tinged with sycophancy.

Meanwhile, the esteemed Senior Brother Shen lifted his head with pride. His gaze upon Chu Lin was laced with disdain, likely stemming from the servant disciple garb that both Chu Lin and Yang Hu wore, which seemed to bolster his sense of superiority.

Little did they know, the man standing before them had effortlessly discerned their cultivation levels with a mere glance. Had they been aware, their arrogance would surely have faltered.

Within the Body Tempering Realm, the fluctuations of spiritual energy in martial cultivators are quite subtle. Detecting the exact level of a peer with a similar cultivation base is challenging unless the disparity in strength is considerable. Only when there's a significant gap in power can the weaker cultivator sense an overwhelming pressure.

Since his last breakthrough, Chu Lin's body has surpassed the ordinary in many respects, particularly in psychokinesis and physical fitness—areas where most martial cultivators are notably deficient.

Typically, martial cultivators absorb spiritual energy to enhance their strength and employ martial skills for formidable combat prowess. They concentrate on physical conditioning primarily during the Body Tempering stage, yet the spiritual energy harnessed at this level is woefully scant in comparison to other stages.

Beyond Body Tempering, the act of refining spiritual energy does incrementally bolster physical strength, but the benefits are relatively modest. Only when one forgoes channeling refined spiritual energy into the Crystal of Valor, opting instead to fortify the body, does the impact become substantial.

Chu Lin surmised that his indulgence in consuming ichor as his regular sustenance might be the reason his Crystal of Valor couldn't fully absorb such an immense amount of spiritual energy, leading to his body automatically absorbing the excess.

Unbeknownst to Chu Lin, had an ordinary martial cultivator absorbed such a colossal amount of spiritual energy, they would likely have perished instantly in a violent explosion.

It wasn't an overstatement to claim that Chu Lin possessed the physical strength to confidently engage in close combat with Yu Qing, who was at the ninth level of Body Tempering. However, this confidence was strictly in the realm of hand-to-hand combat. Should he and Yu Qing exert their full power in a clash, Yu Qing wouldn't be so easily bested by Chu Lin. Moreover, Chu Lin had only achieved the third level of Body Tempering, whereas Yu Qing was at the advanced ninth level, marking a significant gap in their respective stages.

Regarding psychokinesis, it was an inherently mysterious ability. Aside from his noticeably keener senses compared to the average person, Chu Lin hadn't noticed any other unique benefits from the skill.

"Can't you hear me speaking?" the burly man said, rolling up his sleeves and glaring at them threateningly.

Chu Lin offered a slight smile, paying him no mind. Turning his head slightly, he addressed Yang Hu, "Tiger, are you interested in taking him on?"

Yang Hu paused, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He knew Chu Lin's calm demeanor all too well—it was a sign of utmost confidence.

Feeling ignored once more, the burly man shot a furtive glance at the woman in purple next to him, seething with anger. He stepped forward and bellowed, "Have servant disciples become so insolent nowadays? I'll teach you a lesson!"

All at once, Yang Hu let out a mighty yell, his voice booming and drowning out the burly man's.

The trio facing him froze in place.

The burly man's face darkened immediately, his forehead veins bulging with rage.

With teeth clenched, he growled lowly and charged at Yang Hu, his fist swinging fiercely towards him.

Yang Hu launched a counterattack. His speed was astonishing, and in no time, he was exchanging blows with the burly man.

"Junior Sister Zhu Qi, how long do you think it'll take Wang Lang to end the fight?" Senior Brother Shen watched the ongoing battle and struck up a conversation with the woman beside him, smiling.

"Wang Lang's adversary is merely a servant disciple. Even though Wang Lang has only recently advanced to the second level of Body Tempering, three minutes should be more than enough for him to dispatch his opponent," the woman named Zhu Qi replied with an impatient twist of her lips.

However, as the three minutes swiftly elapsed, the clash between Yang Hu and Wang Lang escalated to its most ferocious phase.

Both combatants threw punches, their spiritual energies colliding with a dull thud. The powerful shockwave forced both Yang Hu and Wang Lang to stagger backward.

Wang Lang's frustration mounted; the fight was far from the cakewalk Zhu Qi had predicted. Each time he engaged with Yang Hu, Wang Lang could sense that his opponent's spiritual energy was inferior to his own. Yet, whenever their fists met with force, it felt as though he was striking an iron block—Yang Hu remained unscathed, while Wang Lang's fingers tingled with numbness.

Wang Lang couldn't fathom how Yang Hu, a mere servant disciple, could possess such formidable fists!

What Wang Lang didn't realize was that the water Yang Hu drank daily had been infused with diluted ichor by Chu Lin. Although the concentration of spiritual energy in the water was minimal, Yang Hu was so perpetually exhausted from his daily toils that he had no time for cultivation, resulting in his muscles absorbing the spiritual energy.

"So the strength of the outer court disciples isn't all that impressive!" Yang Hu, who had always been wary of the outer court disciples, found himself evenly matched and was suddenly emboldened. His courage surged with each exchange, and his attacks grew more frequent and fierce.

As Yang Hu's spirits soared, Wang Lang's sank. Before long, Yang Hu was clearly dictating the pace of the battle.

"Wang Lang is proving to be a disappointment; he's on the verge of defeat by a servant disciple like Yang Hu," Shen Yun observed with a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He stealthily drew the curved blade from his waist, preparing to intervene on Wang Lang's behalf.

Just then, Shen Yun's attention was caught by a faint, drifting voice.

"Shen Yun, Zhu Qi, it was wrong for you to interfere in the fight between Yang Hu and Wang Lang."

Shen Yun was taken aback, suddenly recalling a young man who had been spectating the entire time from the sidelines. He glanced up and met the gaze of Chu Lin, who was standing opposite him, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Quietly, Shen Yun slid his curved blade back into its sheath, wary of Chu Lin. The mockery in Chu Lin's eyes was unmistakable to him!

Just then, Wang Lang let out a pained cry. Overwhelmed by Yang Hu's relentless assault, he lost his footing and collapsed, his face quickly taking several punishing blows from Yang Hu, bruising almost instantly.

Having bested Wang Lang, Yang Hu ceased his attack, careful not to inflict serious harm.

"Did I actually win?"

Yang Hu gazed at his hands, hardly believing his own capability. He had always watched Chu Lin demonstrate his prowess, but never had Yang Hu imagined he could defeat a member of the outer court.

"Impossible. I've reached the second level of Body Tempering. How could I possibly be defeated by a lowly servant disciple?" Wang Lang's gaze was vacant, his mind reeling from the loss. He couldn't bring himself to look back, fearful of seeing the scorn in Shen Yun and Zhu Qi's eyes—Zhu Qi, the girl he had long admired.

Wang Lang's expression grew stormy. After a moment, he suddenly looked up at Yang Hu, who was basking in his victory, his eyes icy. In a sudden move, he drew a dagger and lunged at Yang Hu, his voice seething with venom, "Die, you lowly wretch!"