Chapter 204: Chapter 194: 7-Breath Duel (Part 1)
Yang Lin cleared his throat, surveyed the disciples, and said, "Before this test begins, let me introduce a new disciple. Zhao Lin..."
"Here!"
Zhao Lin, who had been standing at the very back, strode forward upon hearing his name. He turned to face the others, cupped his fist, and said, "Newly promoted disciple Zhao Lin. Greetings to all my senior brothers!"
"So that’s Zhao Lin? I hear he’s only eighteen."
"He’s that incredible? Doesn’t that mean he broke through to the Blood Realm even earlier than Miao Tianfeng and Lv Zhenglong did?"
"Heh, not necessarily. He performed a great service half a year ago, so the Sect Leader rewarded him with a medicinal pill and even let him cultivate in Yunjian Cave for seven days. With advantages like that, if it had been Miao Tianfeng or Lv Zhenglong, they might have broken through even sooner..."
The disciples whispered among themselves, casting curious glances at Zhao Lin.
The inner court disciples spent their days engrossed in cultivation, knowing very little about events in the outside world.
However, a few of the more well-informed disciples had heard Zhao Lin’s name. They knew he was a rare talent—the first disciple in many years to enter the inner court at only eighteen years of age.
Once Zhao Lin returned to the ranks, Yang Lin clasped his hands behind his back and said calmly, "After the last test, I gave each of you cultivation advice. I trust you have all worked hard this past month."
"But how well you’ve truly trained can only be proven in actual combat. Today’s test is different from the usual. I call it: Seven-Breath Combat!"
’Seven-Breath Combat?’
Zhao Lin, puzzled, turned and shot Xiang Bao a questioning look.
Xiang Bao grinned. "First time I’m hearing it too. Our Head of Court loves to shake things up. I’ve been in the inner court for three months, and the rules for the competition have been different every time."
The disciples exchanged confused glances.
"What is Seven-Breath Combat?"
Yang Lin pointed to the ground at his feet, answering the question for them. "Both combatants will stand inside this circle. You win by either landing a clean hit on your opponent or forcing them out of the circle."
"And remember, you only have seven breaths. If no winner is decided when time is up, the match is a draw!"
Everyone looked down at his feet. They saw a circle drawn on the ground in white powder, about thirty feet in diameter, and couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.
"How are we supposed to fight in such a small space?"
"This gives a huge advantage to those with brute strength. For someone like me who relies on agility, there’s no room to dodge or maneuver. One wrong step and you’re out, an instant loss."
"And don’t forget, we only have seven breaths. We might only exchange a couple of moves before time’s up..."
It was no wonder the disciples were complaining. Generally speaking, the higher one’s cultivation, the larger the arena required for a match.
An arena for Blood Realm warriors needed to be at least sixty to seventy feet wide and over a hundred feet long.
An arena only thirty feet across meant it would be close-quarters combat from the very first move.
A match lasting only seven breaths was simply unheard-of.
Yang Lin paid them no mind. After letting the disciples grumble for a moment, he singled out the one who had complained the loudest. "Bi Lan, do you know why I’m doing this?"
Bi Lan immediately fell silent and answered respectfully, "I do not, sir."
Yang Lin sneered. "Then allow me to enlighten you!"
"Though I have stayed out of worldly affairs for decades, I have attended every Grand Martial Assembly to observe the fights. And my biggest takeaway is this: the matches are getting shorter and shorter."
"Back when my generation participated in the Grand Martial Assembly, a single fight would last at least seven or eight minutes. And now? The vast majority of fights are over in three minutes, some in less than seven breaths."
"Xiao Jin, you’ve participated in the Grand Martial Assembly twice and spectated once. Isn’t that right?"
Xiao Jin hurriedly replied, "The Head of Court is correct. I have experienced this firsthand."
Yang Lin’s voice turned cold. "And what does that tell us? It tells us that everyone is pursuing a faster, more ferocious fighting style!"
"They go for the kill from the very first move, striking straight down the center, giving their opponents no chance to breathe. If they can win with pure force, they don’t waste a single extraneous motion."
At this, he frowned. "Now look at our matches. You start with probing attacks, dilly-dallying around. You use ’Immortal Points the Way,’ and I counter with ’Part the Wild Horse’s Mane.’ You try ’Sparrowhawk Flips Over’ against my ’Drunkenly Lie on the Battlefield,’ and ’Iron Chains Block the River’ against ’Force Splits the Mountain.’"
"Going on for hundreds of rounds at a time! How is that a fight? It’s nothing more than a street performance—tedious and drawn-out!"
The disciples were speechless.
Yang Lin paced back and forth, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. "That is the purpose of Seven-Breath Combat. And the reason for this small circle is the same."
"Don’t go into a fight thinking only about how to make yourself invincible. The more you think like that, the easier it is to lose!"
"Losing after an hour is no different than losing in three moves. I’m not going to think more highly of you just because you managed to drag it out."
"Shengnian, bring over the wooden tablet. Let’s begin."
"Yes, Head of Court." Instructor Liu Shengnian brought over a wooden tablet and set it up at the edge of the field.
The tablet listed the rankings from the last examination. From top to bottom, they read: Xiao Jin, Miao Tianfeng, Lv Zhenglong... Xiang Bao, Zhong Yewu, Zhao Lin.
"Zhao Lin, you’re up first," Liu Shengnian called out.
"Yes." Zhao Lin took a few steps forward and walked into the circle.
The inner court competition followed the reverse challenge rule.
The reverse challenge rule meant that the challenges started from the bottom of the rankings. The lowest-ranked disciple would choose and challenge someone ranked higher than them.
For example, in a group of ten, the tenth-ranked disciple could challenge the ninth-ranked one, or they could skip them and directly challenge the seventh or sixth-ranked disciple.
If the challenger failed, their rank remained unchanged. If they succeeded, the two combatants would swap ranks.
Regardless of the outcome, a disciple who issued a challenge could not challenge anyone else.
This rule was meant to prevent an excessive number of matches, while also forcing the disciples to be careful with their single opportunity.
"Zhao Lin, who do you challenge?" Liu Shengnian asked.
Zhao Lin glanced at the wooden tablet, his gaze landing on the name ranked thirty-third. "I challenge Zhou Ding."
He had just asked Xiang Bao while in the crowd and learned that among the forty inner court disciples, seven had reached the Blood Realm but had yet to break into the First Layer.
Zhou Ding, ranked thirty-third, was the weakest of the disciples at the First Layer of the Blood Realm, making him the perfect opponent for Zhao Lin to test his strength against.
Zhou Ding was slightly surprised to hear Zhao Lin call his name, but he said nothing, simply walking into the circle to take his position.
"Challenging a veteran disciple right away... He’s got guts, but it’s not a smart move."
Fei Bin, the sixth-ranked disciple, muttered to himself and shook his head.
Xiang Shaofeng glanced at him and chuckled. "I, on the other hand, think Zhao Lin will win."
Fei Bin snorted. "Why do you always have to contradict me?"
"The usual wager, then? I’ll bet on Zhao Lin to win."
"Bet what?"
"How about a Nine Red Pill?"
The Nine Red Pill used the same recipe as the Nine Red Soup, but its properties were much more potent. Its effects could last for an entire month, making it far more convenient to carry on a long journey than the liquid decoction.
After every examination, the top ten disciples were each awarded a Nine Red Pill.
"Done. I’ll bet on Zhou Ding."
Without a second thought, Fei Bin stretched out his hand and slapped it against Xiang Shaofeng’s to seal the bet.
Zhao Lin and Zhou Ding stood facing each other. They exchanged salutes, bowing with cupped fists.
"Zhao Lin."
"Zhou Ding."
