Chapter 103: If You Can Withstand a Single Palm Strike, I Admit Defeat Update Four

After spending a few hours with Chen Kun, Jiang Yu quickly discerned that this man was flamboyant and fond of showing off. Just moments ago, with a single shout, he had unleashed the inner energy of his cultivation technique, causing the blood and qi of many nearby to surge turbulently.

Hmm?

Jiang Yu glanced at Chen Kun again and instantly felt a strange familiarity with the cultivation method within him. Wasn’t it the “Void Refining Spirit Technique” he had once taught his eldest disciple, Chen Shanhe?

Earlier, Jiang Yu had only gauged their cultivation levels without their using any techniques. Given his current strength, it was difficult to analyze intricately.

“No wonder when I saw that Miss Chen just now, her aura seemed familiar. Turns out she’s his heir,” Jiang Yu smiled to himself.

However, the “Void Refining Spirit Technique,” an almost immortal-level cultivation method, when wielded by Chen Kun, was akin to a peasant driving the world’s most expensive golden sports car to sell vegetables—rough, clumsy, and failing to unleash even one-thousandth of its potential.

Miss Chen’s expression was cold as she strode over and sat down directly. Her exquisite, icy demeanor attracted many men’s attention. Men favored women with aloof personalities not because of their beauty, but for the thrill of conquest.

“So it’s the eldest Miss Chen of the Chen family in person. Heh, Miss Chen Chu Wan, could it be that you intend to snatch the Han family’s turf here?”

The speaker was nearly two meters tall, his build like cast iron, with arms as thick as buckets, veins bulging like knotted dragons. His rough and formidable appearance gave the impression he could crush a small car with a single punch.

Chen Chu Wan parted her crimson lips, her expression colder than frost or snow. “The Han family’s turf? I’ll crush anyone who stands in my way. Han Yue, don’t think that just because the Han family has experts guarding it, you can provoke the dignity of the Chen family.”

With that, she rose gracefully, clad in a black long dress and high heels, and walked step by step toward the fighting platform. The crowd gaped in astonishment. “Could this woman really be going up to challenge?”

Song Wenxue fretted, “This is nonsense, pure nonsense! She’s just a girl, and her waist isn’t even as strong as his arm! Hurry and call her back!”

As a traditional and conservative man, he was naturally anxious at the scene.

Chen Kun smiled, “Old Master Song, the world isn’t as simple as you think. Just wait and see. Han Yue won’t last more than three moves against Sister Chu Wan.”

Even Yan Xiaoxiao and the other students found this hard to believe.

Most absurdly, Chen Chu Wan was wearing a dress and high heels to step onto the platform—like she was about to sing or perform.

Looking at Han Yue, Yan Xiaoxiao exclaimed exaggeratedly, “Oh my goodness! His name fits him perfectly—he’s a walking mountain!”

It was a classic contrast of beast and beauty, both about to clash.

Many onlookers excitedly placed bets. When the words “sexy beauty” and “violence” come together, men became crazed. Several servers carried trays with bets for both sides.

“Wait, you can bet money here? Isn’t that illegal?” Yan Xiaoxiao shouted in surprise.

Chen Kun chuckled, “Just small stakes. Want to join? The betting pool has already passed three million. Oh, and a tip: betting on Chu Wan is a guaranteed win.”

Three million?

Yan Xiaoxiao’s mouth dropped open, stars sparkling in her eyes. “I’ve never seen that much money in my life!”

Chen Kun scoffed, “That’s nothing. Compared to Flowing Sand Town, it’s child’s play. The annual betting pool there exceeds a billion. Winning a single match nets hundreds of thousands.”

Even the wealthier students looked stunned and asked, “No way, that’s exaggerated, right?”

Chen Kun smiled, “I didn’t go this year, so I don’t know the details. But I heard the underground tournament in Flowing Sand Town had hundreds of wealthy participants, a betting pool over two billion, and went on for five days straight. No one knows how many lives were lost.”

Yan Xiaoxiao asked curiously, “And then?”

Chen Kun’s playful demeanor faded into seriousness. “Then a young prodigy suddenly emerged, dominating everyone. Countless tycoons bowed down. They say a half-step Grandmaster from an assassin organization was cut down by that young hero’s sword.”

Mentioning that young Grandmaster, Chen Kun’s expression was full of respect.

When he first entered the secular martial world, the first warning he received was that Grandmasters were like dragons in the heavens—not to be mocked or insulted.

The deeper his cultivation, the more he understood the terror of Grandmasters, maintaining a reverent awe within his heart.

Song Wenxue snorted coldly, “All this mysticism, Grandmasters, martial artists—I think it’s all fabricated nonsense. The strongest individuals in this world are those trained scientifically and who persist through sheer willpower.”

“What sword slaying half-step Grandmasters? Just made-up excuses for thugs to save face.”

Ignoring Song Wenxue, Yan Xiaoxiao pressed on, “Brother Chen, what exactly is a Grandmaster? Is that young Grandmaster really that powerful?”

Chen Kun beamed, “Well, legend says a Grandmaster possesses supernatural powers beyond comprehension. They can resist bullets with their bodies, kill with a snap of their fingers, walk on waves, and travel thousands of miles in a day. To your eyes, a Grandmaster is like a celestial being.”

Yan Xiaoxiao and her friends listened with admiration. Though they were educated mostly in science, their curiosity about such matters remained undiminished.

Song Wenxue could no longer bear it and scolded, “Xiaoxiao, do you want me to deduct your points when we get back? We’re here to be tested, not listen to tall tales.”

Only then did everyone fall silent out of respect for Professor Song.

After a while, seeing that Professor Song wasn’t paying attention, Yan Xiaoxiao cautiously pulled out a few thousand yuan and bet secretly. She nudged Chen Kun’s arm, “Brother Chen, keep talking. How powerful was that young Grandmaster?”

Chen Kun hadn’t seen it himself and felt somewhat awkward, but since he had a few fangirls interested, he wouldn’t miss the chance to boast.

After some thought, he said, “Picture this: the half-step Grandmaster who was slain supposedly jumped from a helicopter a mere half meter above the ground, landed unharmed, and left a huge crater in the concrete road. Such a badass, yet that young Grandmaster cut him down with a single sword strike.”

Ah!

The few girls listening intently widened their mouths in shock.

As for how strong that young Grandmaster truly was, Chen Kun didn’t know—imagination was left to the listeners.

Anya was utterly confused. Did such people really exist? Judging by Chen Kun’s unreliable air, it was likely all exaggeration.

Jiang Yu smiled silently and patted Anya’s hand. “You can bet a few hundred yuan on Miss Chen. If you lose, I’ll cover it.”

Anya hesitated—several hundred yuan was her living allowance.

If not for her family’s financial difficulties, how could a woman like her work as a guide? She also had a younger brother recently admitted to university, and she was nearly driven mad worrying about living expenses.

In her darkest moments, she even contemplated becoming a wealthy man’s mistress.

Seeing everyone quietly placing bets, ranging from thousands to tens of thousands, Anya wagered five hundred yuan.

Her gaze shifted to the platform where Chen Chu Wan stood with her hands behind her back, her breathtaking face filled with disdain. On one side was a tall, sexy woman; on the other, a nearly two-meter-tall human mountain. The visual contrast was striking.

Chen Chu Wan spoke calmly, “If you can withstand just one palm, I’ll admit defeat.”

Han Yue’s face flushed with fury. To be looked down on by a woman was the greatest insult to a man. Moreover, both were secular martial artists of equal caliber, and Han Yue's cultivation was in the Horizontal Practice method, with a body strong enough to resist blades.

“Seeking death,” Han Yue stomped down, shaking the platform.

He was right. Both were in the late stage of Qi condensation, on the verge of becoming half-step Grandmasters.

But Han Yue hadn’t anticipated one thing: Chen Chu Wan cultivated an immortal-style technique, the Void Refining Spirit Technique.

At the same level, it was like steel clashing with tofu.

Amid the gasps of Yan Xiaoxiao and others, Han Yue charged forward, throwing a punch at Chen Chu Wan’s face without the slightest mercy.

Only martial artists understood that in the secular martial world, never judge by appearances—no one knew the immense power concealed within another’s body.

Han Yue’s punch created a gust of wind; before his fist arrived, the force already blew Chen Chu Wan’s long hair wildly.

Chen Chu Wan lifted an elegant arm and casually blocked. The two-meter-tall Han Yue staggered back four or five steps, while she barely swayed in place.

She snorted coldly and suddenly twisted her palm, lightly placing it against Han Yue’s chest.

The posture resembled a playful lover lightly punching her partner’s chest—seemingly powerless.

Yet in the next moment, Han Yue’s eyes widened, his whole body trembling.

Upon closer inspection, Chen Chu Wan’s delicate hand had pierced three inches into flesh and blood, leaving a shocking blood-red palm mark on Han Yue’s chest!