133 That Invincible Power

Music is a magical art form; it can express imagination, convey emotions, and stir the spirit.

For ordinary people, listening to music is a pastime. After a heartbreak, one might listen to sorrowful love songs; when joyful, head to karaoke to sing with abandon; watch a film and be fired up by a majestic soundtrack; or, when tired behind the wheel, tune in to the car DJ to invigorate the senses and resist fatigue.

As recorded in the Book of Rites, Music Record: "All sounds arise from the human heart. The movement of the heart is caused by things; it is moved by encountering things, thus it manifests in sound."

Chen Jue now found himself immersed in the atmosphere of a grand chorus, his emotions stirred by the melody.

Originally sensitive and introverted, after refining the elixir and awakening his connection with the heavens, Chen Jue could perceive the spiritual will of others. Just by humming a few lines, he seemed to glimpse that illustrious era when every person was like a dragon in their prime.

That era carried with it a mighty momentum, a tide of unyielding passion and fervor.

Compared to the fervent age of red flags billowing, which he had sensed from Lin Yuanchao, the emotion in this song was even more intense. Chen Jue longed to travel back in time with his device to personally experience that indescribable feeling.

"The dragon battles in the wild, its blood black and yellow!"

"This is the heart’s voice of all beings in that era!"

"This song conceals an invincible power!"

Staring at the flag raised high, Chen Jue sighed deeply. Even after the music ceased, his heart remained unsettled.

The emotion contained in this song was something difficult for someone like Chen Jue—who had grown up in times of peace—to fully grasp.

Life is long, and without walking your own path, without firsthand experience, relying solely on hearsay, watching others, or imitating them, it’s hard to forge a life truly your own.

The same holds true for this kind of emotion.

Without personally living through that tumultuous era, Chen Jue could only, through his celestial perception, observe the will and spirit left behind in the song by those who came before. Yet he could not fully comprehend that invincible power through a single melody.

"If only… the device could take me back there..." Chen Jue reluctantly withdrew from his reverie, sitting in his chair and dazing off, murmuring, "Where is the emotion that belongs to me?"

...

As the opening ceremony ended, the first day of martial contests officially began.

Competitors, assigned number plates, entered the arena one after another. There were ten fighting arenas in total, with twenty fighters competing per round.

With so many participants, half a day was enough to complete all matches, which followed an elimination format—losers were immediately out.

The invited fighters were all skilled practitioners from across the country, selected from billions as the few who had truly mastered their martial arts.

When they began to fight, each displayed their unique styles and techniques with ease, offering a dazzling array of combat forms that thrilled the entire audience.

Chen Jue, still immersed in the invincible emotion from the song, only snapped back to reality when he received his number—113.

He descended from the stands and leisurely entered the fighting area marked by red ropes. Glancing at his opponent, he saw a Daoist with a topknot.

The Daoist wore a white training robe, his face lean and gaunt, hair and beard grown long; beneath his robe, his physique was upright and powerful, clearly indicating mastery of internal martial arts.

“Boundless Heavenly Venerable! Wudang Sect’s Master Liu Shiqing, please honor me with your guidance!” the Daoist greeted Chen Jue with a respectful bow, carefully appraising him.

Liu Shiqing noticed that this seemingly loose and casual young man actually carried an extraordinary aura. His fair, delicate skin and rosy complexion belied a sturdy and robust build beneath his tracksuit.

Earlier, standing among the crowd, Liu had not noticed him—due to the throng and Chen’s reserved demeanor after refining the elixir, making him easy to overlook.

But now, in the arena, it was different. Chen Jue’s restrained aura had faded; he was fully exposed before Liu’s eyes.

“Chuan Quan of Wenshi County, Chen Jue! Daoist Liu, please!” Chen Jue returned the salute.

His martial arts were eclectic—Shaolin, Wudang, and various wandering styles—but his foundation lay in Chuan Quan, the traditional boat fist style, hence his introduction.

Chen Jue came with the intention of winning first place. Though for him it was more procedural, he wished to elevate the reputation of Chuan Quan among these top fighters, repaying the debt to his master, Li Xiangning.

“Boat fist?”

“Such an obscure style can produce a master?”

Liu Shiqing mused silently. When the referee signaled the start, he crouched down, sinking his qi into his dantian. His feet glided like a swimming dragon, his arms swirling to create a burst of force before him. His hands shifted between claw and fist as he launched a rapid strike at Chen Jue.

Chen Jue recognized this as Wudang’s secret Taiyi Swimming Dragon Fist, combined with the Swimming Dragon skill from Wudang’s Thirty-Six Arts, which trained finger strength to exceptional levels. The moves flowed like clouds and water—attacks could punch flesh or retreat to press acupoints to numb nerves. The technique was highly sophisticated.

However, this style incorporated dragon imagery, and as a master who had attained the dragon essence, Chen Jue saw through the Daoist’s rapid yet flawed attack.

Standing in the Eight Immortals Posture, Chen Jue made no attempt to dodge, allowing the opponent’s claw-like punch to strike. He then swiftly intertwined his arms, moving faster than the Swimming Dragon’s probing claws, slipping through openings, blocking the opponent’s strike path, and inwardly hooking to pull the Daoist into an embrace—this was the Boat Fist’s finishing move, the “Laughing Eight Immortals” close-quarters grappling technique.

The last time Chen Jue used this move was in a sparring match with Lin Yuanchao in the park. Previously, he held back, not exploiting his full power.

This time, as he locked the opponent, Chen Jue laughed heartily.

Though he restrained much of his breath, this exhaled laugh was like a thunderclap dropped onto the arena floor, shaking the entire venue with echoing laughter.

Spectators and fighters alike were startled by this sudden outburst, some thinking the microphone had been left on. All eyes turned toward Chen Jue.

Nearest was Liu Shiqing, who felt his ears ring and his mind go blank. The wave of laughter struck like a shockwave, bringing tears to his eyes, a runny nose, and a painful ringing in his ears. Before he could react, Chen Jue executed a throw, sending him flying beyond the red ropes.

A contest between masters is decided in moments. Chen Jue, who had cultivated to the level of an immortal, naturally dispatched a Wudang Daoist who had not yet mastered hidden force with a single move.

“Daoist, thank you for the match!” Chen Jue bowed and, as the referee declared his victory, quickly left the arena to await the afternoon’s second round of eliminations.

His decisive move, the thunderous laugh, and his graceful departure left a deep impression on all present, sparking whispered discussions about where this mysterious number 113, a folk master, had come from.

Meanwhile, Liu Shiqing was supported by his brothers as he staggered off, dizzy and weak-legged, sitting down and seemingly questioning his own path.

“Master Qing, are you alright?”

“That grappling technique was strange indeed! Coupled with that voice-strike resembling our secret Lion’s Roar, it startled even us on the sidelines!” Several Daoists surrounded him, offering comfort and examining his condition.

Wudang’s secret arts include a similar voice-strike technique called the Golden Lock Lion’s Roar. Shaolin has a comparable Vajra Lion’s Roar skill. Much like Chen Jue’s earlier training in wall-running, these techniques share similar names, though their origins are unclear.

However, the Golden Lock Lion’s Roar is rarely mastered and its power is limited, close to extinction. It is incomparable to Chen Jue’s voice-strike, at best used to strengthen lung capacity.

Fortunately, most Wudang Daoists are skilled in medicine and easily treated Liu Shiqing’s bruises. After examination, they found only a mild concussion and spared him a trip to the venue’s doctor.

“I’m fine... just lost too quickly... after over ten years of training, feels like I’ve wasted it all, bringing shame to Wudang.” Liu Shiqing sighed, resting until the ringing in his ears eased.

On the stands, Yan Tong, a monk who had secretly tested Chen Jue’s strength before, and several other Shaolin warrior monks sitting nearby, grew solemn after witnessing Chen Jue’s lightning-fast victory.

They had all sparred privately with Wudang experts and knew Liu Shiqing’s skills well.

To be defeated at first encounter was something these monks doubted they could achieve.

“Junior brother, if you face this man, beware of his strange voice-strike and that peculiar close-quarters grappling.”

“Don’t worry, senior brother! I’ll counter with Vajra Lion’s Roar!”

“But his grappling is unusual, unlike anything we’ve seen before. Better be careful.” Yan Tong nodded, taking Chen Jue as a potential rival far more seriously.

This is an additional chapter for the fourth chapter, which has already reached over ten thousand pre-orders. The author continues to write with passion—more to come tonight.