"Haha… It seems like the Young Master is giving me an opportunity to shine. If so, then it would be rude of me to refuse."

Chong Sheng's eyes gleamed faintly, the corners of his mouth curving into a cold smile.

He slowly raised his sword, ready to strike Quan Zhiyang.

Quan Zhiyang, who saw everything clearly, wanted to move and dodge, but his body refused to listen.

"Move!"

He yelled angrily, but it yielded no result.

Slash!

Chong Sheng didn't miss.

However, that was just the start of his revenge.

Quan Zhiyang was injured but managed to regain control of his body.

If Chong Sheng wanted, he could have ended the fight right there and then—but how could he?

He was going to thoroughly humiliate Quan Zhiyang before everyone, including the Princess he had tried to show off to.

"You weakling! Don't be happy just because you got lucky there!"

Quan Zhiyang still believed Chong Sheng was a mortal, thinking the only reason he survived was due to sheer luck.

Otherwise, if not for that unfortunate overexertion and his own blunder, Chong Sheng would never have gotten the opportunity to injure him.

(Hmph! He messed up his golden opportunity.)

Quan Zhiyang thought that had been Chong Sheng's only chance to defeat him—but the fool had squandered it.

Although injured, he still believed Chong Sheng was no match for him.

"No more playing around."

Saying that, Quan Zhiyang poured a large amount of Qi into his body to increase his speed.

Whoosh!

He instantly closed the distance between them, confident that Chong Sheng couldn't escape his grasp.

"Got you!"

However, Chong Sheng easily dodged his confident strike. With his thousand of years of experience, how could Quan Zhiyang catch him off guard?

Not only that—before Quan Zhiyang could even process what was happening, a fist slammed into his gut.

Thud!

The young master's body folded instantly, air rushing out of his lungs as pain exploded through his abdomen.

"Argh!"

He tried to breathe, but another blow came—this time across his jaw.

Crack!

His head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his lips as his body staggered backward.

Yet Chong Sheng didn't stop.

His attacks weren't wild; they were measured, efficient—each strike precise enough to cause maximum pain without immediately ending the fight.

He was playing with him.

From the stands, gasps rippled through the crowd.

"What—he's actually beating Quan Zhiyang!"

"Impossible! How can a servant overpower a direct descendant?"

"Just what is happening!?"

Every word only deepened Quan Zhiyang's humiliation.

He couldn't believe the servant he bullied daily had the nerve—and strength—to beat him.

(What's happening?)

Just a few days ago, he had beaten Chong Sheng half to death. Now, he was the one being beaten.

Chong Sheng's fist met his ribs again, then his shoulder, then his stomach—each hit accompanied by a sharp thud that echoed across the arena.

Bang!

The final strike sent him sprawling to the ground, coughing blood, his wooden sword lying several paces away.

Chong Sheng looked down at him, wiping his knuckles slowly against his sleeve.

"Ah… Young Master Quan," Chong Sheng said, his tone calm but his words dripping with mockery.

"You're surely giving me so much face today."

He crouched beside the fallen youth, his smirk widening.

"Otherwise, I'd never have been able to show even my measly abilities for more than three moves."

One might have thought Chong Sheng was being sincere previously, but by now anyone could tell he was mocking Quan Zhiyang.

While some found the situation amusing, others couldn't help but wonder—who gave Chong Sheng the nerve?

Even if he were to be admitted as a disciple of the Quan Clan, Quan Zhiyang was still a direct descendant and far more favored.

He would definitely take revenge for this and make his life miserable.

But Chong Sheng seemed to have no such concerns as he continued to beat Quan Zhiyang.

Bang!

A kick landed squarely in Quan Zhiyang's side, making him cry out as he rolled across the floor, dust scattering with every impact.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint your expectations, Young Master," Chong Sheng continued, voice low, unhurried—almost conversational—as another strike drove the breath out of his chest.

Each hit was accompanied by precise control of strength—enough to bruise, to hurt, to shame—but never to kill.

Blood trickled from Quan Zhiyang's nose and lips, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror.

The crowd had fallen into stunned silence.

Even the elders seated above found their expressions darkening—none dared to intervene, yet none could deny what they saw.

A servant was thrashing a direct descendant of the Quan Clan.

And doing it with terrifying composure.

The elders might have stopped it, but with the Princess present, they couldn't show partiality toward their own clan members.

They had to show Princess Sun Yaoqing that no matter who, the Quan Clan was fair and just. They were a clan of people who did what was right, no matter what.

There were only two ways to win in this competition: surrender from the opponent, or if the opponent was knocked out.

However, Chong Sheng deliberately prevented either from happening.

"I S–Sur…"

When it seemed like Quan Zhiyang was about to surrender, Chong Sheng struck his mouth, silencing him before he could finish the word.

At the same time, he carefully controlled his strength to ensure that Quan Zhiyang wasn't knocked out.

By then, almost all the other matches had ended—everyone's attention was fixed on the brutal spectacle before them and even those whose matches were next didn't go up to the arena and just watched.

Gasps rippled once more through the stands.

The beating had long since stopped being a "fight."

It was a one-sided beating.

And now, every eye in the arena was locked on the two figures in the ring—the humiliated Young Master groveling in the dust, and the servant standing tall above him, unbothered, composed, and utterly merciless.

Quan Zhiyang's mother, seated among the clan's inner members, had watched the entire ordeal unfold in growing horror.

Her nails dug into her palms, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw trembled.

She would have intervened earlier, but she knew Princess Sun was present—and they had been told to be at their best behaviour.

But as her son's face began to resemble that of a pig, she could no longer contain herself.

"Enough!"

Her voice rang like thunder, shaking the quiet arena.

Before anyone could stop her, she shot down from the viewing platform—a streak of light descending like a falling star.

Boom!

The ground shattered where she landed, dust and spiritual Qi surging outward in a wave.

She appeared between Chong Sheng and her son, eyes blazing with fury.

Her robes fluttered wildly, and the pressure of her cultivation—late Core Condensation Realm—erupted like a raging tide.

"Little beast!"

She spat, her gaze sharp enough to pierce bone.

"You dare harm my son? Courting death!"

The air itself seemed to freeze.

Even the other elders were startled.

The arena was a place of trial for the younger generation—elders intervening was a direct violation of the rules.

But no one dared move, caught between the shock of her fury and the weight of the spectators' eyes.

Normally, no one would have thought much of it if an elder intervened—but this time was different. Princess Sun Yaoqing and Bai Zihan were both present today.

Quan Lingshu's expression darkened instantly. His fingers twitched on the armrest of his seat.

(Fool!) he cursed inwardly.

(In front of Princess Sun and Young Master Bai? You've brought shame to the entire clan!)

But that was only the beginning. Before anyone could react, she struck.

Her palm lashed out toward Chong Sheng, carrying enough force to crush a stone wall to dust.

Boom!

The attack hit squarely—sending shockwaves across the platform, cracking the stone tiles underfoot.

Gasps filled the air once again.

Yet when the dust cleared—

Chong Sheng was still standing.

Not only that—his right arm was raised, fingers wrapped around her wrist.

He had stopped her strike.

"What!?"

The crowd's disbelief exploded like thunder.

Her attack should have crippled a Qi Refining cultivator—no, even a Formation Establishment cultivator might not have survived that unscathed.

But Chong Sheng had caught it.

And his gaze… was cold.

He wasn't merely defending himself—it looked as though he wanted to retaliate, even when it was against someone at the late Core Condensation Realm.

In any case, Chong Sheng had used his Qi to fortify his arm, allowing him to withstand the blow.

Murmurs turned to cries of shock.

"That's… Qi!"

"It's cultivation—he's a cultivator!"

"Chong Sheng is a cultivator!"

"Still, how could he block such a devastating attack!?"

Finally, everyone realized that Chong Sheng was no longer just a mortal.

However, the fact that he could defend against Late Core Condensation was still unbelievable even if he has become a cultivator.

After all, there was a huge gap between the Qi Refining Stage and the Core Condensation Stage.

Yet Chong Sheng has done the impossible.

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