Chapter 50

Chapter 50: The Person in the Sunlight

In Shan Cheng, the stench of blood kept spreading, baked by the heat until the air itself turned rancid.

Wen Zhao looked at Wang Jie, worry carved into her face. How were they supposed to fight an opponent like this?

Wang Jie sank to the ground, sat, closed his eyes, and forced himself to rest.

No one disturbed him. Whether he wanted it or not, this battle was coming, and he had to meet it head-on.

Shu Mu Ye stayed atop the altar, standing there as if it belonged to him. His gaze swept the crowd, then settled on Wang Jie. The corner of his mouth lifted.

Good. As long as you don’t run.

Night fell. Moonlight washed the earth in a pale, eerie brightness. In the dark, Chu Yao drifted over. “You’re really going to fight?”

Wang Jie leaned against a tree and stared up at the moon. “I am.”

“Tch. I really don’t get you people. Fine—take this.”

Wang Jie accepted it without ceremony. He had no concept of fair duels. To Shu Mu Ye, this was a game, a chance to experience Bridgeway Art. To Wang Jie, it was Blue Star’s life and death.

Neither of them believed this was an even match.

If he could, Wang Jie would have happily thrown ten times the insect sea at Shu Mu Ye just to grind down his strength.

But Chong Xuan could only control so many insects.

He slept hard that night. When morning came and sunlight filtered through the leaves, it landed on Wang Jie’s face—and lit the flesh-and-blood altar in the distance.

Wang Jie and Shu Mu Ye opened their eyes at the same time.

One gaze after another turned toward them.

They watched Wang Jie walk toward the altar as if he were walking to his own execution.

In the Jia Yi Sect’s camp, someone sucked in a breath. “He’s here.”

At the waterfall, Gu Yue stared at the lake’s projection, baffled. A young man was walking toward the altar. “Who is he? The prodigy you hired to deal with Shu Mu Ye?”

Wen Si Yuan stepped up beside him, eyes fixed on the image. “A native.”

Gu Yue blinked. “A native?”

He couldn’t understand where a native found the courage to challenge Shu Mu Ye. He understood even less the Jia Yi Sect disciples’ reaction—when the young man stepped forward, it was as if they all snapped awake.

Wen Si Yuan’s voice turned grave. “Remember the rules. Don’t ask about the process. Only write the conclusion.”

Gu Yue didn’t understand. Something strange was happening.

Ting He watched the projection as Wang Jie walked toward the blood-red altar on the first thread of morning light. That fierce, fresh vitality chased away the clammy darkness, and she found herself staring, transfixed.

He was walking into an abyss. She didn’t want to watch. He was young—about her age—and he was going to face that monster.

Blue Star…

Wang Jie approached step by step, and the world seemed to brighten with him, sunlight spreading along the ground, driving back the last of the night.

Shu Mu Ye watched him arrive, the sun finally touching his face.

He had stood there all night, motionless as carved stone. “Don’t disappoint me. I waited a month for you.”

Wang Jie rolled his shoulders once. “Any chance you can wait another month?”

Nearby, people went silent.

Now, of all times, he was joking?

Shu Mu Ye laughed. “That depends on whether you’re worth it.”

Wang Jie clenched his fist. “Then I’m starting.”

He lowered his body, bent his knees, locked onto Shu Mu Ye—and burst forward.

The ground exploded beneath him. Wang Jie shot like an arrow and drove a punch toward Shu Mu Ye.

Shu Mu Ye bared his teeth and raised his own fist.

The impact detonated through Shan Cheng. A visible shockwave rippled outward, and the flesh-and-blood altar sank several meters in an instant.

The air warped—then surged outward in a crushing gale.

In the Jia Yi Sect, Gu Yue’s eyes went wide. “That was—”

No one around him looked surprised. They had seen the battle outside Tian Fu Base. This native possessed terrifying strength. Unbelievable, yes—but real.

The only question was how far he could push it.

The first clash was only a test.

Wang Jie used the recoil to flip, his body snapping through the air, and hammered down with another punch.

Shu Mu Ye laughed, delighted. “It’s stronger. Just like I thought. You can boost your strength for a short time.”

“I didn’t wait for nothing.”

He met Wang Jie’s punches head-on. Each collision drove the altar lower. Blood-water streamed down its sides. Even the air took on a crimson tint, as if pressure alone were boiling it red.

A sharp boom—Wang Jie was knocked back and landed hard.

Shu Mu Ye looked down at him, drew his blade, and slashed.

That first One Blade carried starforce.

Yesterday, eight straight hours of carving through the insect sea hadn’t forced him to use even a trace of starforce. Now, against Wang Jie, he used it on the very first strike.

The blade-light descended like Flow itself, sweeping across heaven and earth.

Wang Jie lifted his hand. A sword shot in from the distance and snapped into his grip. He tightened his hold and drove forward—Hanging Stream Sword Form.

Steel pierced into the onrushing Flow. Wang Jie retreated step by step, twisting and grinding the blade-light apart with sheer force.

Shu Mu Ye dropped from above and cut again with One Blade. Wang Jie hadn’t used a sword method earlier. Shu Mu Ye had assumed he didn’t know any.

Instead, Wang Jie held.

Shu Mu Ye’s grin widened. Interesting.

The second slash was far stronger than the first, like endless waves rolling in.

Wang Jie tore it aside. The blade-light flew and crashed down near Wen Xing Ru, cleaving the earth. Her sleeve shredded at the passing edge.

Wen Xing Ru’s brow lifted as she stared at the torn cloth. Hard to block. Not only did it carry the foundation of Cheng Yi Dao’s Pale Moon Streaming Across Heaven, it carried weight—real weight.

And Wang Jie’s sword method was this strong?

Wang Jie pressed in, his blade under Hanging Stream turning heavy and blunt, crushing instead of cutting.

Shu Mu Ye raised his blade to block.

The ground beneath him shattered for a thousand meters. Invisible force surged up through the earth, lifted rubble and broken stone, then fired it in every direction like a storm of shrapnel.

Mo, Chong Xuan, and the others had no choice but to strike and defend.

They retreated again.

Wang Jie twisted—Rainbow-Drinking Sword Form.

The strike arced like a soaring rainbow. It should have been a single thrust, but as imprint power boiled, it became a rain of stabbing points—countless sword-shadows, all aimed at Shu Mu Ye.

Shu Mu Ye tipped his head back. “Flashy.”

He cut upward.

Heaven and earth became Flow—formless, without pattern.

One Blade shattered the rainbow, crushed through the sword-shadow, and dropped right in front of Wang Jie’s eyes.

In that instant, Wang Jie’s finger stabbed through the line of the sword—Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger.

A fleeting, invisible finger-force snapped into existence, squeezing Shu Mu Ye from front and back.

Shu Mu Ye hadn’t expected that. Caught off guard, he took it cleanly. His blade bent under the pressure as he twisted his torso and forced his way out.

Two finger-forces slammed together with a thunderous roar. The shockwave punched outward.

Wang Jie stepped with Jia Eight Steps and appeared behind Shu Mu Ye. Another point—still Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger, but this one was only palm-sized as it streaked past.

Shu Mu Ye turned, lifted his hand—

The strike hit his palm dead center and shoved him back three steps. His palm split open. Blood dripped down his wrist.

Wang Jie didn’t give him a breath. He pointed again.

Shu Mu Ye’s eyes turned cold. His injured right hand clenched, seized the finger-force, and crushed it.

The Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger shattered.

In the same motion, Shu Mu Ye drove a punch into Wang Jie’s chest.

Wang Jie flew, slammed hard into the flesh-and-blood altar, and sank into it.

Silence.

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

Wen Xing Ru and the rest stared at Shu Mu Ye’s right palm.

He was bleeding.

For the first time.

At the waterfall, Gu Yue looked like he’d been struck. “How is that possible?”

A native—a man who should have been easily suppressed by any trialists—had forced Shu Mu Ye into this.

Gu Yue hadn’t misseen it. Shu Mu Ye had erupted with the power of his second rebuild.

He had truly unleashed the strength of his second rebuild—nearly reaching the physical limit of humans. The same strength that earned him that chilling reputation: not human.

And Wang Jie had forced it out.

Sword method. Footwork. Finger art. Strength.

Too complete.

Was this really something a native could achieve?

Gu Yue glanced at Wen Si Yuan. No wonder the elder kept insisting they only write the result and never the process. If this got out, outsiders wouldn’t believe it—and even those who knew Shu Mu Ye at Star Vault Vista wouldn’t believe it.

Absurd.

Ting He covered her mouth, eyes locked on the altar where Wang Jie had vanished. He didn’t die… right?

Outside the altar, Shu Mu Ye lifted his right hand and studied the wound in his palm. Injured. That one finger had torn him open and made him bleed for the first time.

He’d thought this was just a game. A game the Jia Yi Sect couldn’t do anything about. A way to wait for a few people while he played.

Instead, someone like this had appeared.

If word of this got back to Cheng Yi Dao, no one would believe it.

He raised his head. “Your strength isn’t at its end.”

Inside the altar, Wang Jie’s body was soaked crimson. He didn’t climb out immediately. Above him hung corpse after corpse—dead from Tian Fu Base.

He looked up at their unwilling eyes and clenched both fists.

Not enough. Still not enough.

He’d thought he had physical strength on par with Shu Mu Ye.

That punch proved the truth: Shu Mu Ye had been holding himself back all along.

Wang Jie had seventy-sevenfold strength. Shu Mu Ye was at least over eighty.

Outside Tian Fu Base, Shu Mu Ye had held back far too much.

And worse—no one knew whether he was still holding back now.

Wang Jie climbed out.

He stood drenched in blood and faced Shu Mu Ye.

Shu Mu Ye casually stabbed his blade into the ground, then opened his right hand toward Wang Jie so the torn palm was clear. “In the same realm, you’re the fifth person who’s ever injured me.”

“As a reward, I’ll answer you with the full strength of my second rebuild.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. His smile changed—no longer light, but edged with mockery and cruelty. “Hold on. Don’t die.”

He stepped.

And was suddenly in front of Wang Jie.

The speed was too fast for Wang Jie’s eyes to track. All he saw was a fist swelling larger and larger.

Instinct took over. He crossed his arms in front of his body.

A deafening boom.

Wang Jie was blasted away by an unstoppable force, punching straight through the flesh-and-blood altar and crashing into the distance.

Shu Mu Ye chased and drove another punch down.

Wang Jie grit his teeth and stepped with Jia Eight Steps, twisting his body violently aside.

Shu Mu Ye’s fist struck the ground—earth flipped and shattered. Even distant mountains collapsed as if swallowed by the impact. Shan Cheng shook like it was being torn apart by an earthquake.

Wang Jie staggered back again and again.

Shu Mu Ye turned and swept out a palm.

The wind grazed Wang Jie’s head. His brain rang. Darkness threatened the edges of his vision.

Behind him, a colossal five-finger palm print erased half the altar and rolled eastward, crushing everything in its path.

And east was where Chong Xuan and the others were watching.

They panicked. The wave was already on them. There was nowhere to run.

“Together!”

Ten Thousand Insects Overturn the Sea.

White Sword Edge Descends.

Shatter-Peak Palm.

Snow Thousand Chill.

Jia Yi Divine Sword.

Their combined defense still failed. The palm print blasted them backward until they coughed blood.

They couldn’t imagine how Wang Jie was enduring this.

Wang Jie didn’t have time to think. Shu Mu Ye’s speed was impossible to catch. Out of every three moves, Wang Jie could fully dodge one. He could barely avoid the second.

The third always hit.