When the snipe and the clam quarrel, the fisherman reaps the reward.

Although Wen Yuan was only at the fifth level of Qi Refinement, his gaze was as sharp as a torch, and with a single glance he could tell that Lei Ya had already reached the first level of Qi Refinement. “Do you really think I can’t see that Lei Ya has cultivation now?” he said.

In contrast, Zhao Yu had yet to cross the divide between mortal and immortal; though he presently held the upper hand, it was no more than the sway of a crumbling tower on the verge of collapse.

“Let’s wait and see!” Xing Hua’s eyes shone with resolve as he drained his cup of tea. His upright expression seemed to declare that the Wind Listening Token was already within his grasp.

The two quietly set their wager: Xing Hua supported Zhao Yu, staking a Jade Willow Cushion, while Wen Yuan supported Lei Ya, with the Wind Listening Token as his bet.

From the moment Zhao Yu made his move to the time his fist struck, only a few breaths had passed. Qin Chuan and his companions were still practicing their breathing exercises in the farmland outside the courtyard, oblivious to the events unfolding. Xing Hua and Wen Yuan, however, had keen eyes and saw every detail within the courtyard as clear as daylight.

If I keep the readers guessing any longer, I fear I’ll be in for a scolding and risk disturbing your enjoyment—so let us return to the spectacle in the courtyard.

Many from Green Mountain couldn’t bear to watch Lei Ya potentially meet a bloody end; they turned away, much like ostriches hiding from danger. On the other hand, the refugees wore grins, as though they already knew what was about to happen. Only one short man with a sharp nose and monkey-like features watched intently, his face beaming with the same smile but his eyes fixed on the scene—he knew a twist was coming.

Indeed, it happened just as the monkey-faced man predicted.

As Zhao Yu’s fist shot straight toward Lei Ya, the fear that had once filled Lei Ya’s eyes was gone, replaced by a hint of excitement. Spiritual energy gathered as azure mist in his right hand behind his back, concealing a deadly intent. His features twisted with murderous intent, his eyes burning with a bloody frenzy. What he failed to notice, however, was that the spiritual energy within him, already limited, had suddenly depleted by more than three-tenths.

Now was the moment! Seeing Zhao Yu’s attack fully extended, Lei Ya seized the opportunity and punched out as well.

A roar split the air.

Some rejoiced, others despaired. In the blink of an eye—except for Xing Hua, Wen Yuan, and the monkey-faced man—everyone else gasped in shock, their tongues clicking in disbelief.

People rubbed their eyes, as if seeing an illusion. The outcome was far different from what anyone had expected. The one lying crumpled on the ground, his left arm broken and mangled—who else could it be but Zhao Yu?

The scene before them was like a thunderclap striking the crowd in the courtyard, leaving both sides in uproar.

“Scarface!”

A few of the refugees snapped out of their daze and rushed forward, anxious to check his injuries, but were stopped by a raised hand. “Haha! It’s been a long time since I’ve met a tough opponent!” The teasing look vanished from his face, replaced by cold focus as he studied the man before him. “That last attack—how many more times can you unleash it?” His voice boomed, echoing northward through Qingyang.

This time, it wasn’t just the registered disciples in the courtyard who were surprised—Wen Yuan, too, was taken aback inside the pavilion.

With his hands behind his back, Wen Yuan smiled as though the scene before him had nothing to do with him. “This fellow is quite interesting. I suppose… I’m about to lose this bet.”

Zhao Yu didn’t allow time for speculation. He struck first, closing the distance between them.

What the onlookers didn’t realize was that Zhao Yu and Xing Hua had already conspired in secret; Zhao Yu knew Lei Ya had crossed the threshold between mortal and immortal. That punch just now, though delivered with a practiced form, had three-tenths of its force held back, making the injury look far worse than it was. It was all an elaborate act, and Lei Ya, proud of his cunning, had unwittingly fallen into an inferior position.

Though Zhao Yu was tall and broad, his movements were anything but clumsy. With every punch and kick, a subtle gust of energy flowed, and his techniques connected seamlessly, as fluid as clouds passing through the sky. In that moment, the crowd seemed to glimpse a mischievous monkey in the forest teasing a spirit snake—swift and elusive.

Wen Yuan’s heart skipped a beat as realization dawned. “Breath Technique! Who would have thought such a genius existed atop Qingyang?” He couldn’t help but glance at the composed Xing Hua.

From start to finish, Zhao Yu’s vigor was as boundless as a surging river. Everyone on Mount Qingyang knew the Breath Technique, but besides Zhao Yu, no one else could use it outside of meditation—let alone in combat. Each move was unique, every transformation following the will, each burst of force as if cloaked in wind and treading on clouds.

To seek immortality is nothing more than wandering with insight, navigating by fate. If all the talent on Mount Qingyang could be measured, Zhao Yu would possess the lion’s share.

Lei Ya, by contrast, was strong in cultivation but weak in technique. His repeated attacks were all the same—direct and fierce—making it easy for Zhao Yu to read his patterns. If not for the spiritual energy enhancing his speed and power, Lei Ya wouldn’t even have touched a hair on Zhao Yu. But to maintain this advantage, Lei Ya’s spiritual energy poured out of him like water, draining quickly.

Yet each time, Zhao Yu managed to neutralize the force of Lei Ya’s attacks in the nick of time, though sometimes it left him looking a bit worse for wear. The battle see-sawed back and forth, but such a stalemate could not last long.

Just then, Qin Chuan finished his breathing exercises and stepped into the courtyard. The spectators were so absorbed in the fight—cheering and shouting encouragement—that they noticed nothing. Otherwise, a few would have slipped away, embarrassed to share the same air.

Zhao Yu suddenly rolled aside, narrowly dodging Lei Ya’s sweeping kick.

Looking closely at the two fighters: Lei Ya’s pale face was dripping with sweat, his hair disheveled like wild grass, and his simple hairband had vanished.

Zhao Yu was in no better state. His face was smeared with black and red, and though his wounded left arm had stopped bleeding, it was still useless. Were it not for his injuries exposing him to danger, the outcome might already be decided. He steadied his breathing and glared angrily at his opponent. With a shout, he unleashed a flurry of punches with his right arm, like raindrops battering down in an early summer storm, aiming straight for Lei Ya’s face.

One step followed another, the true battle had only just begun!

Seeing Zhao Yu advancing swiftly, Lei Ya could only retreat again and again, swaying like a lotus leaf in a storm. For a moment he lost focus, his energy faltered, and defeat became apparent. One misstep and he was hit by several punches in succession, his form unraveling, his attacks becoming wild and unfocused—no longer a threat.

“Not good!” At this, someone from Green Mountain cried out, “Brother Lei has nowhere left to retreat—his back is to the courtyard fence!”

Few had noticed Lei Ya’s position until now. But as all eyes turned, they saw it was true: a few more steps and Lei Ya would be cornered.

And just as expected, Lei Ya’s back met the fence. “Damn it! There’s nowhere left to go!” After taking several more blows from Zhao Yu, his body went limp and he slumped against the fence in defeat.

Zhao Yu’s last punches, though precise, landed on harmless spots, leaving no lasting injury nor threatening Lei Ya’s life—only making him look battered and pitiful. Knowing the outcome was decided, Zhao Yu withdrew a few steps and ended his assault. He straightened his disheveled clothes as best he could, gritted his teeth against the pain in his left arm, and clasped his fists in salute to Lei Ya.

As he bowed his head, he did not see the darkness clouding Lei Ya’s eyes. By now, with victory decided, it seemed Lei Ya would do nothing dishonorable, especially in front of so many registered disciples.

But reality was quite the opposite.

Though Lei Ya had been beaten into submission and now slumped helplessly against the wall, his eyes bleak and gray, everything was still within his expectations. He still had two-tenths of his spiritual energy remaining! Gathering the last of his strength in his right hand, Lei Ya endured the pain that wracked his body, cold sweat trickling down his temples.

In a flash, the killing intent arrived.