Rise early for recommendations, seek Sanjiang votes ***** Aside from these two groups, quite a few Lingxiao Pavilion disciples had gathered around the outermost perimeter to watch the spectacle, pointing and murmuring among themselves.
With a trace of confusion, Yang Kai pushed his way through the crowd and slowly made his way over to Li Yuntian and the others.
A casual glance revealed that Su Mu in the center of the ring was battered and bruised, looking thoroughly wretched, locked in combat with a youth not much older than himself. The young man wore an expression of effortless composure, not a single injury on his body, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips as he toyed with Su Mu's attacks while throwing out taunting words. Su Mu growled low in his throat, charging forward with fierce bravery time and again, only to be effortlessly deflected each time.
After watching for a moment, Yang Kai's brow furrowed slightly. Something wasn't right—Su Mu's attacks weren't missing the youth. They were landing, but having absolutely no effect. His fists struck the other's body and the youth didn't even twitch an eyebrow. Meanwhile, any blow Su Mu took left him with at least a minor wound.
The yuan qi fluctuations erupting from their techniques were roughly equivalent, meaning their strength shouldn't be that different. So how could there be such a gap in their fight?
"What's going on?" Yang Kai patted Li Yuntian on the shoulder and asked.
Li Yuntian turned around, his face lighting up with joy: "Senior Brother Yang!"
At his shout, Zhao Hu and the others noticed Yang Kai as well, each greeting him before turning back to face off against the group opposite them.
"Why can't Su Mu beat him?" Yang Kai voiced his confusion. "Their strength should be about the same, right?"
Li Yuntian nodded quickly, his expression indignant: "Right. Su-shao is at Kaiyuan Realm, second stage, and that guy is at Kaiyuan Realm, third stage. In a truly fair duel, even if Su-shao couldn't win, the other guy wouldn't come out unscathed either. But this person is absolutely despicable—a sparring match between fellow disciples, and he's wearing an defensive artifact! How is Su-shao supposed to do anything?"
Yang Kai's face darkened at this. "An defensive artifact?"
"That's right." Li Yuntian gritted his teeth. "He's the Grand Elder's own grandson, named Wei Zhuang. That defensive artifact was bestowed upon him by the Grand Elder."
"Another spoiled second-generation heir?" Yang Kai was beginning to understand. Su Mu had an elder backing him, and this Wei Zhuang was the Grand Elder's own grandson. Both had patrons of comparable status. Others might not dare lay a hand on Su Mu, but that didn't mean Wei Zhuang wouldn't. However, wearing a defensive artifact during a sparring match between fellow disciples—that was crossing a line.
"The Grand Elder and the Second Elder have never gotten along, and that rivalry carries over to Su-shao and Wei Zhuang—they can't stand each other. Now that he's got this chance, he's definitely going to teach Su-shao a brutal lesson," Li Yuntian said, his anxiety palpable.
Yang Kai let out an "oh." "So it's just pointless internal squabbling."
"Senior Brother Yang, please think of some way to save Su-shao. You know what he's like—if this keeps up, he'll end up seriously hurt," Li Yuntian pleaded.
Yang Kai's expression remained indifferent. "It's a sparring match between fellow disciples. If your skills fall short, you take a beating. Are Lingxiao Pavilion disciples supposed to be afraid of that?"
"But this fight isn't fair to begin with! Wei Zhuang is relying on the power of his artifact."
Yang Kai let out a cold laugh. "The world was never fair! The weak are prey for the strong, and the powerful command respect. You should have learned that long ago."
Li Yuntian was stunned into silence, unable to form a rebuttal.
Between fellow disciples, they truly had no right to interfere. Yang Kai had put on an impressive display the other day, but sect rules were what they were—how could they expect him to rescue Su Mu the way he had before?
In the arena, Su Mu was already swaying on his feet, the techniques he launched lacking any real force behind them. Wei Zhuang, on the other hand, was laughing heartily, thoroughly pleased with himself. He slapped his own chest and called out: "Su Mu, don't hold back! Hit me right here. I'll stand perfectly still today. If you can make it hurt, I'll admit defeat on my own."
Su Mu's eyes were glazed over, both fists streaked with crimson. The defensive artifact Wei Zhuang wore not only blocked attacks—it also deflected a portion of the yuan qi back. Every punch Su Mu threw meant he absorbed more than half the impact himself. That was how his fists had ended up in such a sorry state.