"Brother Ning, think twice!"
The head of the Wang family's eyes flickered with an unusual glint as he couldn't help but interject with a warning.
"You really dared to accept?" The Chen patriarch smirked, his lips curling into a sly grin.
Ning Cangyun gave a slight nod to the Wang patriarch, brushing past the Chen patriarch without acknowledgment.
"Elder Brother, have you gone mad? Do you realize what this will cost our Ning family over the next three years?"
Ning Canghai snapped out of his shock and bellowed, leaping down the steps in swift strides until he stood before Ning Cangyun.
"I have my reasons," Ning Cangyun replied, his voice calm and resolute.
"Your reasons? This is your grand decision?" Ning Canghai roared, his fury boiling over. "Father never should have entrusted the leadership of our clan to you! At this rate, the Ning family will crumble under your hands!"
"If we lose this time, Canghai, I'll gladly pass the mantle of leadership to you," Ning Cangyun said with a shake of his head.
"What…"
Ning Canghai froze, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Ahh!"
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Everyone stared at Ning Cangyun in disbelief. Was he truly so confident? So willing to stake even his position as the head of the family?
All eyes turned to Su Ming. But aside from an inexplicable air of charisma, no one could discern anything remarkable about him.
"Brother Wang, since Ning has already taken such a bold step, why hesitate? Let your nephew take the stage!"
The Chen patriarch chimed in, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
"Brother Ning…"
The Wang patriarch called out again.
But Ning Cangyun remained silent, simply nodding slightly.
"Go ahead," the Wang patriarch relented, no longer pressing the matter.
"Yes, sir."
Wang Can bowed respectfully and stepped onto the dueling platform.
"Tch… Are you truly skilled, or merely arrogant enough to dare host this duel?"
Chen Moran sneered at Su Ming, his gaze filled with mockery.
Su Ming ignored him, instead raising his fist toward Ning Cangyun.
"Patriarch Ning, thank you for your trust. I won't let you down."
Ning Cangyun nodded silently.
Su Ming turned, his gaze settling on Chen Moran and the newly arrived Wang Can.
"Bagua style—Wang Can," Wang Can announced formally, clasping his fists together.
"Baji style—Su Ming," Su Ming returned the gesture.
"Brother Su," Wang Can added, "Our Bagua style thrives on unpredictability. Every direction becomes a potential point of attack. Given the stakes, I won't hold back. Please be careful."
Hearing these words, Su Ming's respect for Wang Can grew. By revealing his advantage rather than concealing it, Wang Can demonstrated integrity—a stark contrast to Chen Moran's sneering impatience.
"You talk too much. Why don't I let you strike first? It doesn't matter whether it's you or him—both of you are destined to fail today," Chen Moran scoffed.
"Even a lion uses its full strength when hunting a rabbit. If Brother Su dares to host this duel, he must have real skill. Let us begin," Wang Can replied calmly, unfazed by Chen Moran's taunts.
"Tch. Fine. Crush him first, then deal with you!" Chen Moran sneered dismissively.
"Whenever you're ready."
With those words, the match was set in stone. No one would back down now.
The elderly referee's voice rang out, signaling the start.
In an instant, silence enveloped the arena. Every spectator leaned forward, their breaths held—the Challenger's Duel hadn't occurred in decades.
On the platform, Chen Moran and Wang Can shifted into their stances. Their opening postures were similar yet distinctly different.
"Now!"
Chen Moran stomped his foot and surged forward, his movements serpentine and erratic. Wang Can moved simultaneously, his steps tracing intricate patterns that seemed calculated to perfection.
To the untrained eye, it was spectacle. To the martial families gathered, every motion whispered secrets.
Yet Su Ming stood still, watching them approach with detached calm.
"Hmph! Not even an opening stance? Is this what Baji looks like? Pathetic!"
"The Ning family must've hired some charlatan!"
Jeers erupted from the crowd.
Chen Moran reached Su Ming first, his palm thrusting outward—a deceptively simple push.
But this was no mere exercise. True Taiji power surged beneath that palm, force enough to fell an ox.
"Not even dodging? How dare you scorn me?!"
Enraged, Chen Moran channeled hidden force through sinew and bone, his palm snapping forward with a roar.
Thud!
Yet his strike met empty air.
"What?!"
Chen Moran's eyes widened—Su Ming now hovered just beyond his reach.
When did he—?
Before he could retract, Su Ming blurred into motion.
Wang Can struck simultaneously from the flank.
"Bagua Sky-Cleave!"
His palm arced down, afterimages rippling through the air.
Su Ming's hand snapped up.
Crack!
Wang Can's strike halted mid-air.
In the same breath, Su Ming closed in on Chen Moran.
A gentle fist flickered out.
Thoom!
Chen Moran hurtled backward as if kicked by a stallion.
"What happened?"
"Did you see—?!"
The crowd erupted. Only the three family heads, seasoned masters themselves, caught the truth.
"Full power! He's mid-tier Hidden Force!" the Chen patriarch barked.
Chen Moran skidded to a halt, his face grim. Beside him, Wang Can accelerated, footsteps now phantoms.
The two attacked in unison—Chen Moran's palms descending like axes, Wang Can's strikes coiling from impossible angles. Air itself screamed under their assault.
Su Ming stepped forward, energy thrumming beneath his skin.
Instead of blocking, he charged—Baji's iron mountain shoulder smash.
The best defense is annihilation.