This Move Doesn't Cost MP

"Provoking me?"

The Dark Taoist revealed a sinister smile, his face twitching with rage.

He was a demonic cultivator!

A true master of the Dark Force realm!

Across the entire Great Xia, he ranked among the most formidable martial artists!

Yet this damned brat dared to look down on him!

Fury surged in his chest as the Dark Taoist lashed out with his horsetail whisk.

Suddenly!

The courtyard floor erupted, tiles hurling toward An Yi like projectiles.

"Not here—take cover, now!"

Uncle Fu shouted urgently. Only then did the others realize they might be caught in the crossfire, scrambling back into the villa in fear.

"What’s wrong with the Enforcement Bureau? Why isn’t anyone answering?!"

Uncle Fu’s face darkened as his call went unanswered. With decades of experience, he sensed something was terribly wrong.

The flying debris rained down on An Yi like a storm.

Before, this would’ve left him battered and bruised, struggling to endure.

But now, with his Aero Control skill upgraded to LV3, he had options.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

An Yi raised his hands, conjuring an air shield!

Every tile aimed at him shattered against the invisible barrier.

The shield was fragile—barely useful in real combat—but perfect for deflecting loose rubble.

Nearby, Lin Chen observed silently, deep in thought.

Before leaving, Old Man Cheng had extorted money from him… then insisted on teaching him Aero Control.

He was still learning, but An Yi’s mastery was clearly superior.

Watching An Yi’s movements, Lin Chen had an epiphany.

So that’s how Aero Control can be used.

"Tsk tsk, little bro, you’re distracted~"

Song Yan giggled grotesquely, his fingers darting like lightning toward Lin Chen’s eyes.

But a surge of pressurized air slowed his movements, as if he were dragging through water.

"What the—?!"

Panic flashed across Song Yan’s face, his clownish red cheeks paling.

In battle, even a split-second delay could be fatal.

"Too slow."

Lin Chen’s voice was ice. He seized Song Yan’s wrist—

CRACK!

A sickening snap echoed as bone shattered mid-forearm, not just the joint.

The pain was excruciating.

Song Yan screamed, wrenching free with a desperate leap backward.

"Trying to run?"

Lin Chen’s voice was a death sentence.

Cold sweat drenched Song Yan’s bowl-cut hair.

They were both at the Bright Force realm, yet the gap was insurmountable.

He had to escape!

But the air around him thickened like syrup, rooting him in place.

"W-what is this?!" Song Yan trembled.

"Heart-Piercing Elbow."

Lin Chen blurred forward—

CRUNCH!

The impact sent Song Yan flying, blood spraying as ribs caved in. He hit the ground, motionless.

Wu Tong watched intently.

Lin Chen had fought the most, revealing the most.

As a Dark Force grandmaster, Wu Tong recognized every technique.

Hex Palm.

Iron Whip Leg.

Eight Extremes Fist.

Lin Chen wielded legendary martial arts with terrifying ease.

What baffled Wu Tong was Lin Chen’s endless stamina.

Most techniques required immense energy, yet Lin Chen showed no exhaustion.

His brow furrowed.

To a martial artist, boundless energy meant one thing: unfathomable power.

Unseen by all, a green jade pendant glowed faintly against Lin Chen’s chest.

An Yi caught Lin Chen’s victory from the corner of his eye.

Damn, he’s still as OP as ever.

Unless facing a global-tier monster like Butcher Blade, Lin Chen never went all out.

Even Aero Control became something else in his hands.

An Yi’s Aero Control was also LV3.

But manipulating the environment? Channeling energy into restraints? Impossible.

Even their teacher, Cheng Yuanfeng, probably couldn’t pull that off.

If An Yi tried, he’d collapse from exhaustion.

Does this guy have infinite mana or what?

He shook off the thought, refocusing on the Dark Taoist.

Protagonists really get all the cheats.

If Lin Chen finished his fight, An Yi couldn’t lag behind.

Meanwhile, the battle on Fang Jueming's side was proving to be a tense stalemate.

"Too weak! Still too weak! These flimsy fists—do you really think they can hurt anyone?"

Qian Xiu stowed away his tombstone, watching as Fang Jueming swung a punch toward him, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

At just thirty years old, he was considered young, yet his reputation among dark practitioners was formidable, hailed as a once-in-a-century prodigy.

The black tombstone slung behind him had become his signature.

Though slightly weaker than Song Yan, he was still a master of Ming Jin—more than capable of handling a rookie like Fang Jueming.

Sweat beaded on Fang Jueming’s forehead, his sharp eyes burning with a feral intensity.

Inside the villa, Qin Zhengwei mused thoughtfully, "Old Wu, your disciple doesn’t seem to be holding up. Should we—?"

Wu Shuangshuang pouted, her voice laced with urgency as she pleaded, "Dad, please help Jueming! You said yourself—aside from the senior disciple, he’s the most likely among all the students at the martial arts hall to reach Ming Jin. And that tombstone-wielding bastard is so ruthless! What if he gets hurt—?"

"Watch closely. That kid isn’t as fragile as you think," Wu Tong declared with confidence.

This was his chosen disciple, after all.

Fang Jueming’s perseverance was unmatched—he’d never seen anything like it. And his natural talent? Exceptional.

The kid poured every ounce of his energy into his fists, training relentlessly day and night. The results spoke for themselves.

Though his technique was still a bit rough, it was more than enough to deal with this tombstone-toting thug.

Flash Fist—third strike!

Fang Jueming silently counted in his mind.

Another punch flew toward Qian Xiu.

This time, the sheer force and speed of the blow were terrifying.

Qian Xiu’s expression darkened—this strike was no joke.

He didn’t dare take it lightly, swiftly raising his tombstone to block the attack.

Both men staggered back two steps before regaining their footing.

Fang Jueming gasped for breath, his bandaged fists trembling faintly.

"I enjoy killing," Qian Xiu said, hefting the tombstone onto his shoulder. The dim evening light didn’t obscure the densely carved names covering its surface—just how many lives had he taken?

"If I deem someone worthy, I carve their name into this stone after ending them."

His grin turned predatory.

"Kid, give me your name. Time to send you on your way."