Chapter Eleven: Isn't It Far Too Soon to Say That?

Ye Wei’s strike unleashed a flurry of claw shadows, weaving a web-like assault that left one with the illusion of having nowhere to dodge.

The strength of the youngest generation’s top figure in the Ye family was on full display. Compared to Ye Shen’s earlier offensive, there was no doubt this attack was far sharper. Any ordinary Ye family disciple would likely be unable to withstand such a move. However, with his recent surge in power, Ye Cheng was no longer among the ordinary. The surging blood energy in Ye Wei’s claw shadows posed no real difficulty for him.

As the claws closed in rapidly, Ye Cheng’s expression grew increasingly solemn. Though his current strength was no less than Ye Wei’s, a moment’s carelessness could still spell disaster. On the stage, Ye Ling’s beautiful face remained calm and untroubled by Ye Cheng’s challenge to Ye Wei, betraying little worry.

“Hmph, angering Brother Ye Wei like this is simply courting death,” sneered one of Ye Wei’s usual followers from the crowd below, unable to resist a jibe.

“What did you say?” Ye Ming, who had been silently worrying for Ye Cheng, immediately shot him a fierce glare and rebuked him in anger.

“Uh, nothing...” The fellow, oblivious to Ye Ming’s close friendship with Ye Cheng, now found himself in trouble and quickly mumbled an apology, his voice tinged with fear. In terms of background, Ye Ming was the son of the family head, and in strength, he was leagues above him. He didn’t dare offend such a figure.

After receiving the timid reply, Ye Ming turned away in contempt, ignoring him and focusing intently on the match.

The various murmurs from the audience did nothing to disturb the tension on stage. Ye Cheng watched Ye Wei’s every movement, studying the path of the claw shadows. He knew his opponent surpassed Ye Shen in both speed and ferocity. Now, he could only focus all his attention, watching for the faintest shift in Ye Wei’s stance to devise a counter.

Noticing Ye Cheng’s grave demeanor, Ye Wei’s face flashed with a touch of smugness. But when his palm finally met Ye Cheng’s, his expression changed at once. In a sudden twist, Ye Cheng sidestepped to the right, slipping out of range. His foot slammed down on the stone floor for leverage, and with the force of the recoil, he spun sideways. His right leg swept toward Ye Wei in a fierce arc.

In the blink of an eye, Ye Cheng’s kick closed the short distance, catching Ye Wei off guard. Hastily, Ye Wei summoned a portion of his blood energy, crimson lines snaking across his body. With this surge, he intercepted Ye Cheng’s charging leg.

A crisp crack rang out as fist and leg collided. The powerful recoil sent both fighters flying apart.

No sooner had they steadied themselves than they clashed again at breakneck speed. The infusion of blood energy made their exchanges all the more intense, thunderous impacts echoing as their fists met.

The crowd’s gaze grew fervent as they watched the lightning-fast duel. Such an evenly matched contest was rarely seen among the Ye family’s younger generation—and never so thrilling.

Despite the ferocity, neither side gained a decisive advantage, and soon they parted again. Aside from their ragged breathing, neither seemed seriously harmed.

“Didn’t expect you to have improved so much—but I wasn’t even trying yet,” Ye Wei said, his face darkening at the stalemate. In a sullen voice, he sought to salvage his pride. His intentions were obvious.

“Next, I won’t hold back.” Ye Wei licked his lips with a blood-red tongue, a cruel smile on his face. With a rush, his blood energy surged, and bloodlines flooded across his skin—twenty-five in all, not the seventeen shown in the earlier test. Clearly, he’d been hiding his true strength.

Ye Wei’s display caused an uproar among the spectators. Pity flickered in the eyes fixed on Ye Cheng. In their minds, his defeat was assured. The cultivation of blood energy became exponentially more demanding as one progressed, and the power increase was anything but linear.

“Ye Ming, my brother will be all right, won’t he?” Ye Ling’s delicate hands clenched tightly in worry, her beautiful face etched with concern.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry. Ah Cheng isn’t so easily beaten.” Though he comforted her, Ye Ming’s own heart was troubled. “Ah Cheng’s in for it now,” he thought. He hadn’t expected Ye Wei to hide so much—twenty-five bloodlines already. Even he would struggle to last more than a few rounds against such strength.

Facing Ye Wei’s overconfidence, Ye Cheng’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “You’re not the only one who knows how to hide your strength.”

He no longer held back. Ye Wei’s overwhelming blood energy was intimidating, and any further restraint would be dangerous. With a deep breath, Ye Cheng unleashed all his power. Dark red bloodlines spread rapidly across his body, his aura growing stronger. Yet, in the end, his blood energy was still a shade weaker than Ye Wei’s.

Though Ye Cheng’s bloodlines contained a denser concentration of blood energy than others’, the gap between ten and twenty-five could not be so easily bridged. That he could reach such density with only ten was already astonishing.

“This boy is truly unusual—his blood energy rivals the concentration of twenty lines,” remarked the Grand Elder, his eyes sharp and clear, all previous haze swept away, shocked at the power the youth displayed.

“Seems I underestimated you,” Ye Wei admitted, his face growing grave as he sensed the threat Ye Cheng now posed. But as Ye Cheng finished unleashing his blood energy, still lagging behind, Ye Wei’s tension eased slightly.

“Your strength is impressive, but you’re still no match for me. I’ll show you the price of challenging me.” His eyes gleamed with malice and killing intent; Ye Cheng’s power had clearly unsettled him.

Ye Wei struck first. A torrent of blood energy gathered in his palm as he advanced with seven swift steps, aiming straight for Ye Cheng’s chest and other vulnerable spots. The force concentrated in his hand was no weaker than the peak of the minor blood energy level. Such force could shatter stone with ease—one could imagine the damage to a human body.

“Seven Killing Fists.” At Ye Wei’s move, many in the audience instantly recognized this as a deadly technique among intermediate martial arts, designed to claim lives. The blood energy focused in both fists multiplied its destructive power several times. Even those at the major blood energy level would not dare to take it head-on.

On stage, Ye Zhan cursed in agitation. “That little brat—using such ruthless moves against family!” He clenched his fists, pure energy gathering in his palms, clearly ready to intervene if necessary. Beside him, the Grand Elder frowned subtly, also displeased with his grandson’s conduct.

Ye Cheng’s demonstrated talent had already surpassed the family’s expectations; in the elders’ eyes, he was now a gem worthy of careful polishing—a youth of limitless potential.

Sensing Ye Wei’s murderous intent, Ye Cheng’s gaze grew icy. He darted about, careful not to meet the attack head-on, dodging with all his might. But eventually, he was forced to the edge, nowhere left to escape. He came to a sudden halt, steeling himself to stop running. There was no use in avoiding any longer.

“Nowhere left to run, eh?” sneered Ye Wei, closing in with the Seven Killing Fists, blood energy roaring. “Lie down and accept defeat.”

“You’re speaking too soon,” Ye Cheng replied coolly.

Seeing Ye Wei’s fist hurtling toward his head, Ye Cheng no longer retreated. He clenched his right fist, body tilting forward like a crouching panther. In an instant, he sprang forth like an arrow loosed.

The audience murmured in dismay at Ye Cheng’s choice to meet Ye Wei’s intermediate martial technique head-on. In their eyes, this was unwise.

“Thunder Rush.”

With a silent, steely resolve, Ye Cheng’s fist met Ye Wei’s in a thunderous collision that echoed through the arena. Many onlookers—even some girls—couldn’t bear to watch, shutting their eyes in fright.

A resounding boom rang out.

[End of Chapter]