Chapter Five: The Dark Horse, Lin An

Very quickly, Sun Zhi’s eyes were overtaken by terror.

In Lin An’s palm, a faint wind wolf began to materialize, radiating a dangerous aura. Instantly, it collided with Sun Zhi’s Iron Sand Palm.

A muffled boom resounded as their palms met, sending a surge of force rippling outward from the point of contact.

There was a distinct crack—bones shattering in Sun Zhi’s hand—followed at once by a piercing, agonized scream.

“You… You’re not at the fifth stage of Battle Qi?” Sun Zhi exclaimed in disbelief.

“Who told you I was only at the fifth stage?” Lin An replied with a cold snort. In the blink of an eye, he was already behind Sun Zhi. A barely perceptible black energy formed in his palm, which he then struck against Sun Zhi’s back.

Pain flashed briefly across Sun Zhi’s face, but he promptly collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Qian Qixian looked down at Sun Zhi’s limp form with utter disdain. “Trash is trash—you can’t even handle something this simple.” He didn’t bother to spare another glance for Sun Zhi and strode toward Lin An, who was already leaving the arena.

“You’re impressive, far more useful than Sun Zhi. How about it? Do you want to become one of my people? I can guarantee that, from now on, no one in Cloudmist Sect will dare lay a finger on you.” Qian Qixian was direct and unapologetic.

“Not interested,” Lin An replied.

Hearing this, Qian Qixian’s face darkened further. He had thought Lin An was an insignificant nobody, yet with a single move, Lin An had rendered Sun Zhi unconscious. That kind of strength deserved his attention.

Unfortunately, someone with no background or support could be easily crushed in Cloudmist Sect, should he so choose.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you regret this.”

With that, Qian Qixian lost all interest in further conversation. It was his turn to compete next, facing a Cloudmist Sect disciple at the pinnacle of the ninth stage of Battle Qi. Yet, his opponent was just as helpless before him.

With a single move, he left his adversary senseless.

As most had expected, Qian Qixian, relying on his talent and power, entered the finals without suspense.

Only Lin An’s progress defied all predictions.

He defeated nine prodigies at the ninth stage of Battle Qi in succession. Though the path was arduous, he ultimately secured a place in the finals, contending for the sole opportunity to become Yun Yun’s disciple.

Even Nalan Yanran began to take an interest in this newcomer Lin An, who had just joined Cloudmist Sect. Who could have foreseen that among the newly admitted disciples this year, a dark horse like Lin An would emerge, easily overpowering even those who had joined a year or two before?

Yun Yun herself, on the other hand, remained impassive throughout, as if neither Lin An nor Qian Qixian warranted her notice.

“You’ve truly surprised me. I didn’t expect you to reach the final. It seems I underestimated you,” Qian Qixian admitted, his confidence unshaken. “But it’s a shame—you drew me as your opponent. Otherwise, you might have had a real chance to become the Sect Leader’s disciple.”

His gaze toward Lin An brimmed with scorn.

“Enough pointless talk. If you want to fight, then get on with it,” Lin An said.

Qian Qixian snorted. From the first moment he’d seen Lin An, he’d been irritated by his attitude. Every other new Cloudmist Sect disciple fawned over him, desperate for his approval—everyone except this Lin An, who had ignored him from the start. Worse yet, Lin An had just defeated his henchman, who still lay unconscious.

“It looks like Qian Qixian becoming the Sect Leader’s disciple is a foregone conclusion. I suppose I should congratulate you in advance, Elder Seven!”

“Oh, perhaps this new disciple will create a miracle. After all, he’s fought his way to the finals purely on his own strength,” Elder Seven replied with a smile, though there was not a trace of modesty in his tone. It was as if his grandson had already clinched the victory.

The other elders chuckled in agreement, clearly not favoring the newly inducted Lin An. Qian Qixian had grown up in Cloudmist Sect and enjoyed Elder Seven’s favor; all manner of precious elixirs and spiritual liquids had been lavished upon him. Otherwise, he could never have acquired the power to challenge those above his level.

Soon, Qian Qixian moved into action. At the peak of the ninth stage of Battle Qi, he could have already broken through to the realm of a One-Star Fighter, were it not for his desire to become Nalan Yanran’s senior brother.

Though he had not advanced in rank, his strength had grown formidable. Even without breaching the Fighter realm, he possessed the might of a One-Star Fighter.

As for Lin An, Qian Qixian scarcely regarded him as a threat.

He unleashed a palm strike; even without deploying any martial techniques, the force was tremendous, scarcely less than if he had used a combat skill.

Lin An responded in kind, also forgoing martial techniques. Their palms collided.

To Qian Qixian’s astonishment, a searing pain shot through his hand.

Neither had expected Lin An’s strength to be so overwhelming; no wonder he’d knocked Sun Zhi out with a single blow.

Both men staggered back three steps before regaining their balance.

This scene took many by surprise. Even Elder Seven’s previously smug expression began to freeze.

He had never imagined that, in terms of pure physical strength, anyone at the same level could rival his grandson. A year ago, Qian Qixian had consumed a rare fruit that enhanced his power; within his rank, none could match his raw might—not even Nalan Yanran.

Yet out of nowhere, this new disciple possessed such astonishing strength.

Nalan Yanran’s curiosity about Lin An only deepened. She’d originally held little hope, yet now a dark horse had emerged at the last moment.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself quietly wishing that Lin An would defeat the insufferable Qian Qixian.

Qian Qixian said nothing. Instead, he drew a long sword. Paired with his flowing white robes, he cut the figure of a noble young master.

In the eyes of many Cloudmist Sect female disciples, Qian Qixian was the ideal—peerless talent, formidable background, and striking looks. Instantly, numerous infatuated youths cried out his name.

“You’ve truly infuriated me now!”

With a resonant clang, his sword sang as it swept through the air, filling the arena with dazzling sword shadows.

“Yellow Rank Battle Skill—Sword Dance of Raging Sands!”

The flurry of sword shadows whipped up a fierce wind, giving Lin An the illusion of standing amidst a sandstorm.

From the outset, Lin An had never underestimated Qian Qixian, but he hadn’t expected his power to be this formidable.

A single misstep, and even Lin An might taste defeat at his hands.