Chapter 50: The Man Beneath the Sun

The sweltering heat of Mountain City carried the stench of blood, thick and suffocating as it spread through the air.

Wen Zhao cast a worried glance at Wang Jie. How could one possibly fight such an opponent?

Yet Wang Jie merely sat down, closing his eyes to rest. No one disturbed him. Whether he wished for it or not, this battle was inevitable.

On the Blood Altar, Shu Mu Night stood tall, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings until it landed upon Wang Jie. His lips curled into a smirk. He had come. As long as he did not flee, all was well.

Night fell. The moonlight bathed the land in silver. Chu Yao approached under the cover of darkness.

“Are you really going to fight?”

Leaning against a tree, Wang Jie stared at the moon. “Yes.”

“Tch. I don’t know what goes on in your heads, but fine. Take this.”

Without hesitation, Wang Jie accepted the item. He had no concept of fairness in duels. To Shu Mu Night, this was a mere game, an opportunity to experience the Bridging Technique. But for Wang Jie, it was a battle upon which the fate of Blue Star rested.

Neither considered this a fair fight.

If he could, he would have gladly unleashed ten times the Insect Tide to wear down Shu Mu Night’s strength. Unfortunately, Insect Xuan’s control over the Insect Tide was limited.

The night passed in quiet repose. As sunlight filtered through the leaves, warming Wang Jie’s face, it also illuminated the distant Blood Altar.

Both Wang Jie and Shu Mu Night opened their eyes simultaneously.

Countless gazes followed Wang Jie as he walked towards the Blood Altar, as though he was marching towards his doom.

From the ranks of Armor One Sect, a voice gasped, “He’s here.”

Atop the Waterfall, Gu Moon frowned at the shimmering lake, watching as a young man approached the Blood Altar. “Who is that? The prodigy you’ve chosen to fight Shu Mu Night?”

Beside him, Wen Si Yuan observed the scene. “A native.”

“A native?” Gu Moon was incredulous. How could a mere native have the courage to challenge Shu Mu Night? And why did the people of Armor One Sect regard him with such reverence? As though his presence had stirred them from a deep slumber.

Wen Si Yuan spoke solemnly. “Remember the rules. Do not question the process—only record the outcome.”

Gu Moon remained baffled. Something strange was happening here.

Ting He watched as Wang Jie stepped forward, bathed in the first golden rays of morning. His vitality was palpable, pushing back the lingering darkness. She was mesmerized.

Yet, her heart ached. She couldn’t bear to watch. He was walking into the abyss. He was so young—about her age—yet he was to face a monster.

Blue Star…

Beneath the Blood Altar, Wang Jie advanced, each step in sync with the brightening sky, as if the earth itself was awakening.

Upon the Altar, Shu Mu Night stood unmoving, his face half-lit by the morning sun. He had remained there all night, like a statue. “I hope you don’t disappoint me. I’ve waited a month for this.”

Wang Jie flexed his arms. “Any chance you’d wait another month?”

The surrounding spectators were speechless.

Even now, he joked.

Shu Mu Night chuckled. “That depends. Are you worth the wait?”

Wang Jie clenched his fists. “Well then, let’s begin.”

He sank into a low stance, bent his legs, and locked eyes with Shu Mu Night—then charged.

The ground cracked beneath his explosive movement. Wang Jie shot forward like an arrow, fist aimed at Shu Mu Night.

Grinning, Shu Mu Night lifted his own fist to meet him.

Boom!

The impact resonated through Mountain City, sending visible shockwaves rippling outward. The Blood Altar sank several meters under the sheer force. The air twisted before erupting into a powerful blast.

At Armor One Sect, Gu Moon gasped. “What is this?”

The others, however, remained composed. They had witnessed Wang Jie’s strength outside the Heavenly Prefecture Base. This so-called native possessed terrifying power. Unbelievable, yes—but undeniable. The only question now was—where did his limits lie?

The clash of fists was but an opening test.

Using the recoil of their collision, Wang Jie flipped midair, twisting his body before hurling another punch.

Shu Mu Night laughed. “It’s stronger! You can amplify your power in short bursts. I knew my patience would pay off.”

He met Wang Jie’s next strike head-on. With each impact, the Blood Altar sank lower. Blood trickled down its steps, and the surrounding air turned a deep, oppressive crimson.

Then—

With a single punch, Wang Jie was forced backward.

Shu Mu Night, standing above him, unsheathed his blade.

Slash!

This strike carried the power of Star Force. The Insect Tide had failed to make him draw upon this strength, even after eight hours of relentless battle. Yet now, his first attack against Wang Jie was imbued with Star Force.

A tidal wave of sword energy surged forth, its overwhelming momentum crashing down like an unstoppable flood.

Eyes locked on the descending blade, Wang Jie raised his hand.

From the distance, a sword flew into his grasp.

Hanging Stream Sword Style.

His blade pierced into the cascading sword energy, dispersing its force as he staggered backward.

Shu Mu Night leapt forward, striking again. So—he knew swordsmanship after all? Interesting.

This second slash dwarfed the first, surging like an endless tide.

Wang Jie deflected it. The impact sent the sword energy slicing through the air, striking the ground near Wen Star Ru, splitting the earth apart.

Narrowing their eyes, Wen Star Ru inspected the torn sleeve on their arm. That attack had been formidable. It contained the foundation of Sincere One Dao’s Moonflow Sky technique—enhanced by raw power.

A mere native possessed such mastery?

Refusing to stay on the defensive, Wang Jie took the initiative.

His sword, wielding the might of Hanging Stream, carried no sharp edge—only sheer force.

Shu Mu Night blocked it, but the impact was devastating. The ground beneath them, spanning a thousand meters, shattered.

Unseen energy surged from the depths, lifting countless debris into the air before launching them in all directions.

Silent, Insect Xuan, and the others had no choice but to intervene, their hands moving instinctively to block the attack. Yet, they were forced back once more.

Wang Jie turned sharply, his sword technique shifting into Rainbow Drinking Sword Style. The blade flashed like a soaring rainbow, a single stroke splitting into countless mirrored slashes under the surging Seal Power, each one aimed directly at Shu Mu Night.

Shu Mu Night lifted his gaze. “All show, no substance.”

His blade arced upward, slashing from below. Like flowing water, his strike bore no form, no discernible technique. One cut, and the rainbow shattered. His blade’s edge pressed forward, reaching Wang Jie’s eyes. At that moment, Wang Jie’s finger shot through the remnants of his sword aura—Heaven and Earth Luo Xuan Finger—a formless strike compressed into a fleeting, crushing force that bore down on Shu Mu Night from both front and back.

Caught off guard, Shu Mu Night had no time to react. The strike landed, bending his blade and twisting his body as he forcibly evaded the full brunt of the technique.

Two fingers clashed in midair, erupting in a deafening boom. The impact sent waves of force surging outward.

Wang Jie executed Armor Eight Steps, appearing behind Shu Mu Night in an instant, another Heaven and Earth Luo Xuan Finger poised to strike. This time, the technique was compact, a force no larger than a palm, yet swift as lightning.

Shu Mu Night turned, lifting his hand. His palm met the finger strike head-on, repelling him three steps backward. Blood trickled from the cracks in his palm, dripping along his wrist.

Wang Jie gave no time for respite, launching yet another strike.

Shu Mu Night’s gaze deepened. His injured right palm clenched, gripping the oncoming force and crushing it outright. In Wang Jie’s stunned eyes, Shu Mu Night’s counter came like a tidal wave—a single punch that hammered into Wang Jie’s chest, sending him flying. He crashed violently onto the Flesh and Blood Altar.

Silence fell upon the surroundings.

Old Five and the others turned pale. “Boss…”

Wen Star Ru and the others fixed their gazes on Shu Mu Night’s right hand. He had been wounded. For the first time, he had been injured.

High above Armor One Sect’s Waterfall, Gu Moon’s expression twisted in disbelief. “Impossible…” He muttered. “A native? Someone who should be easily suppressed by trial participants, actually matching Shu Mu Night? No, I did not see wrong. Shu Mu Night truly unleashed the power of his Second Re-Cultivation.”

This was strength approaching the very limits of humanity. Strength that had earned him the title of Beyond Human.

And it had been forced out—by a native.

Swordsmanship, footwork, finger techniques, raw power—it was nearly perfect.

“Could a native really reach such heights?” He turned to Wen Si Yuan. “No wonder this elder insisted on recording only the results, not the process. If this got out, no one would believe it. Not even those who know him well.”

It defied all logic.

Ting He covered her mouth as she watched Wang Jie embedded in the Flesh and Blood Altar. “He’s not dead… right?”

Outside the altar, Shu Mu Night lifted his right palm and examined it. The wound had torn his flesh, his blood flowing freely. A single strike had made him bleed for the first time.

He had thought this was merely a game—a game that Armor One Sect could do nothing about. A distraction as he waited for certain others. Yet, someone like this had emerged.

No one back in Sincere One Dao would believe it.

He looked ahead. “Your strength still hasn’t reached its peak, has it?”

Inside the Flesh and Blood Altar, Wang Jie was drenched in crimson. He remained where he had fallen, unhurried. Above him, corpses hung—those from Heavenly Prefecture Base. Their unwilling gazes bore down upon him.

He clenched his fists. Not enough. Still not enough.

He had believed his physical strength rivaled Shu Mu Night’s. But that punch had made it clear—Shu Mu Night had been suppressing himself all along. Wang Jie now wielded seventy-seven times his original strength, yet Shu Mu Night exceeded at least eighty times.

During the battle outside Heavenly Prefecture Base, Shu Mu Night had held back far too much.

And the worst part? No one knew whether he was still holding back even now.

Wang Jie stepped out of the altar, blood-drenched but unwavering. His gaze met Shu Mu Night’s.

With a casual motion, Shu Mu Night stabbed his blade into the ground and raised his right palm, displaying the wound. “Among those of the same realm, you are the fifth to injure me. As a reward, I shall use the full extent of my Second Re-Cultivation against you.”

A smirk curved his lips—not the gentle one from before, but one laced with mockery and cruelty. “Hold on, don’t die.”

With a single step, his figure blurred—too fast for Wang Jie’s eyes to follow.

A fist loomed larger in his vision.

His body reacted instinctively, arms crossed in a desperate defense.

A thunderous impact sent him flying once more, piercing through the Flesh and Blood Altar, crashing into the distance.

Shu Mu Night pursued, his fist descending once more. Wang Jie gritted his teeth, his feet treading Armor Eight Steps, twisting his body at the last moment. The earth shattered beneath the punch, the force reverberating far and wide. Even distant mountains crumbled, the entire Mountain City trembling as though struck by an earthquake.

Wang Jie staggered back, yet Shu Mu Night had already turned, another palm strike unleashed. The mere wind from the blow brushed past Wang Jie’s head, making his mind reel—almost knocking him unconscious. Behind him, the five-fingered imprint continued, obliterating half the Flesh and Blood Altar before barreling toward the east.

There—where Insect Xuan and the others stood watching.

Their expressions changed in horror. The aftershocks alone were enough to reach them. There was no escape. “Together!”

Myriad Insects Overturning the Sea.

White Fang Strike.

Shattering Peak Palm.

Thousand-Snows Chill.

Armor One Divine Sword.

The combined might of the gathered fighters clashed against the devastating palm imprint—only to be repelled, each coughing blood as they reeled from the force.

How was Wang Jie still enduring such an onslaught?

He had no time to think. Shu Mu Night’s speed was beyond tracking. Of every three attacks, he could dodge one completely, barely evade the second, but the third—it landed every time.

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

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