Chapter 153: Displaying Might: The Martial Immortals of Wei (3)

Arrogant, simply too arrogant...

This was the unanimous impression the entire corps of elite warriors held of Wei Wuji—a deeply resentful impression.

Yet no one stepped forward to "teach Wei Wuji a lesson," because all the warriors knew that despite this fellow's present insolence, he would soon be beaten flat to the ground and then tossed out like a dead dog.

Faced with the condemnation of a thousand fingers, Wei Wuji still felt a lingering trepidation, especially given the murderous aura radiating from these men.

Yielding before a battle was never a good omen. But since he had already taken this step, there was no turning back; otherwise, Wei Wuji would truly have nowhere to show his face.

That being the case, he had to bite the bullet and push forward. Wei Wuji firmly believed that he still possessed untapped potential waiting to be awakened.

If he could survive the ordeal before him, he would be able to face similar or even greater spectacles with composure in the future.

Step by step... steady and collected, as if he were the master of this domain, Wei Wuji slowly walked toward the combat stage.

When it came to swordsmanship, he retained a measure of confidence. Although his training period was not particularly long, he was confident that he had fully mastered the techniques; it would all come down to his ability to adapt on the fly.

Furthermore, such matters did not rely solely on skill—luck played a significant part as well. What if his opponent made a mistake?

Yet an even greater reason Wei Wuji maintained his confidence was that he had brought Zheng Dali along with him, who could intervene decisively at the critical moment.

"You really had the nerve to come..." Zhao Jun stared in utter astonishment as Wei Wuji ascended the steps.

His mind could hardly process it. For all these years, he had never heard of anyone daring to challenge the elite Wei warriors.

Though he had agreed offhandedly, now that Wei Wuji had actually arrived, Zhao Jun felt a trace of panic, unsure of how to handle the situation properly.

In other words, he did not know whether to simply beat this audacious young fellow to death, or hold back slightly and just cripple him.

"Heh... I have long heard that the elite Wei warriors are invincible under heaven, so today I naturally had to witness it for myself," Wei Wuji said, standing firm upon the stage with a smile.

Observing the scene, Zhao Jun cast a look of appeal toward his superior, the commanding captain off to the side.

Instead, the captain's face hardened into a stern glare, signaling Zhao Jun not to hold back.

Though he could guess that Wei Wuji possessed an impressive background—otherwise he would not be so flamboyant—the captain genuinely could not recall anyone of that description in Wuan City.

He was suffering the disadvantage of poor intelligence. The captain had not accompanied the Marquis of Wei on campaign, and thus had never laid eyes on Wei Wuji.

Although he had heard whispers of Wei Wuji's great name and understood some of his exploits, the captain still failed to connect them to the person standing before him.

Added to the fact that Wei Wuji had been tanned dark by the sun, the distinctive facial features resembling the Marquis of Wei were difficult to discern.

And so... things had turned out this way.

"In that case, come on then!" Zhao Jun laughed savagely, and slowly drew his sword from its scabbard.

Observing Zhao Jun's cautious demeanor, Wei Wuji's heart sank as well. It seemed finding a flaw in this fellow would be rather difficult.

Since that was the case, he might as well act even more arrogant to induce a misjudgment from his opponent, Wei Wuji thought to himself.

With a sudden flourish, Wei Wuji yanked his sword from its scabbard and hurled the empty sheath off to the side.

That was not all. Having executed this flashy display, Wei Wuji charged straight toward his opponent with a sword in hand, his speed accelerating continuously as he sprinted.

As the saying went, among all martial arts under heaven, only speed was unbreakable. Wei Wuji firmly believed in this principle.

Seeing Wei Wuji launch a ferocious charge, Zhao Jun showed no fear, meeting the attack with steady composure.

He was seasoned in battle, and naturally would not charge forward blindly like Wei Wuji. Focusing primarily on stability, he would wait for an opening to present itself before delivering a fatal strike.

Yet to Zhao Jun's surprise, although his opponent appeared to be crashing forward recklessly, every step was calculated and entirely devoid of openings.

This forced Zhao Jun to grow even more serious, attaching greater importance to the duel. Confident though he was, he was hardly brainless.

Clang, clang, clang... The combat stage continually rang with the sound of clashing steel blades, firmly capturing the gaze of the soldiers below.

By now, a trace of contempt had vanished from the warriors' eyes; the strength Wei Wuji displayed was enough to command their respect.

Yet... that was the extent of it. It amounted to nothing more than exchanging a few extra blows with the military commander.

On the other side, the corner of the captain's mouth curled into a sneer.

Though the battle appeared fierce, he could already tell that Wei Wuji was vastly inferior in physical strength; achieving victory was an absolute impossibility.

These young scions all assumed that after learning a trick or two, they could become invincible under heaven—a pack of utter fools, the captain sneered inwardly.

Having been left behind at the Wuan encampment and unable to share in the military merits of the campaign against the State of Chen, he harbored resentment stemming from his own humble origins.

Therefore, the captain's mindset mirrored Zhao Jun's: he despised evil—or rather, he looked down upon those who rose by clinging to the ancestral coffins of their forebears.

Meanwhile, Zheng Dali was utterly astonished by Wei Wuji's current performance.

Originally, he had been poised to rush in and rescue him at any moment, yet he never expected Wei Wuji to hold out until now.

Even if Wei Wuji were to lose this match, Zheng Dali would still admire his young master to the utmost degree; only by putting in the effort himself could one truly understand the importance of innate talent.

How many years had Zhao Jun spent wielding a sword, whereas Wei Wuji measured his practice in mere days? Yet right now, they were fighting to a complete standstill.

Zhao Jun's face was burning with heat as well. Though confident in his ability to defeat Wei Wuji, dragging the fight out for so long caused him to lose face.

Yet Wei Wuji proved as slippery as an eel; though he seemed vaguely within one's control, the moment one tried to grasp him, he would slip right through the fingers.

As the two exchanged blows, Zhao Jun intensified his offensive, hoping to crush Wei Wuji by sheer force.

Wei Wuji, however, ceased his hard clashes and gradually retreated, waiting for an opportunity. By this point in the fight, the web of his thumb and forefinger had already gone numb from the jarring impacts.

"What is Lord Zhao doing? He still hasn't dealt with this punk after all this time..."

At this moment, the soldiers, bathed in the scorching glare of the sun, began to murmur in dissatisfaction, growing impatient.

"I'd say this kid isn't simple either; he clearly has some genuine martial arts..." Concurrently, the onlookers' perception of Wei Wuji began to shift.

This indirectly proved that only strength was the ultimate truth; those with the biggest fists commanded the right to speak.

"You don't suppose... Lord Zhao is going to capsize in the gutter, do you?" someone in the crowd asked with a hint of worry.

As soon as these words were uttered, the speaker drew scornful glances from those around him, who looked upon him as a fool.

How could anyone harbor such a thought? No matter how formidable that pretty boy was, just how capable could he be?

To think he could actually defeat Commander Zhao—absurd! the crowd thought inwardly.

Yet upon hearing these discussions from the stage, Zhao Jun felt an escalating wave of anxiety within his chest.

To maintain one's position as an officer among the elite Wei warriors, the primary prerequisite was to command the respect of one's subordinates through demonstrated strength.

Now that Zhao Jun felt his competence being called into question, his anxiety reached a fever pitch, intensifying his desire to slay Wei Wuji.

If not for this wretched fellow before him, he would never have been subjected to this humiliation.

Across the way, the captain's face had darkened completely, tinged with a latent dissatisfaction toward Zhao Jun for failing to "handle the task efficiently."

"Ah..." With a mighty roar, Zhao Jun unleashed an even more ferocious barrage of attacks. His stride widened, and his mind... grew chaotic.

The opportunity had arrived... Wei Wuji told himself inwardly. The fellow before him had lost his composure, making glaring openings all too easy to expose.

Feigning a state of defeat, Wei Wuji abruptly took several steps back.

Witnessing this, Zhao Jun naturally refused to let him escape, pressing forward with his sword raised. In his vision, there was only Wei Wuji's body, moments away from being pierced through.

"Go to hell..." Zhao Jun muttered under his breath, and lunged forward with full force just as Wei Wuji reached the edge of the stage with nowhere left to retreat.

Yet the instant Zhao Jun's sword tip was about to brush against Wei Wuji's chest, he could advance no further.

A ferocious kick landed squarely in his chest, causing his breathing to stall momentarily.

That was not the end of it. His sword was struck forcefully from the side, and—to his disbelief—was knocked completely out of his grip.

Immediately following that, another violent kick sent Zhao Jun staggering back several paces before he crashed heavily onto the ground.