Chapter Seventy-Eight: What Is It, Exactly, That You Are Afraid Of?
“What kind of tactic is this?”
“This kid is too cunning, isn’t he? Is that even allowed?”
“He’s not playing dead lying on the ground—he’s digging.”
“If Shen Qingping ends up losing here, he’ll be bitter for the rest of his life.”
—
Everyone watching the giant screen felt incredulous. The enigmatic “Ghost’s Bane” was undone by a handful of dirt?
It was like a master thief, after exhausting every trick to evade infrared sensors in a heavily guarded skyscraper, had their scheme foiled by a local crook bribing a security guard with a pack of cigarettes to cut the power—a kind of inspired improvisation.
Countless ghostly images vanished, and Shen Qingping’s true form finally appeared.
To their astonishment, Tang Fei’s fatal strike at the critical moment was blocked. Shen Qingping caught the dagger in his hand.
Shang Xiulin’s gaze sharpened. He turned to Chen Bing and asked, “Is Shen Qingping at the Qi Mastery Realm?”
Chen Bing’s expression was grave as she replied, “Last time we tested him, he was still at Qi Mastery, top grade. The information system shows him as Qi Mastery.”
They knew, in such a scenario, if both were at Qi Mastery, and their abilities were comparable, it would be impossible for Shen Qingping to catch Tang Fei’s lethal blade.
There were only two possible explanations for what Shen Qingping had done:
First, divine intervention.
Second, he was not merely at Qi Mastery.
You can be top grade, but crossing realms is simply excessive.
One grade is a mountain; one realm is a sky. That’s not a fair victory.
If he’s beyond Qi Mastery, he’s unfit to serve as an assessment officer. That’s cheating!
And as he represents the school, this would mean the institution itself is cheating.
Shang Xiulin fell silent, his gaze deep as he watched the two on screen, lost in thought.
Chen Bing was inwardly distressed. She had originally arranged for Huang Zixing as the assessment officer, but he’d been injured during training and replaced. She hadn’t reconfirmed Shen Qingping’s level, leading to this massive oversight.
She glanced furtively at Zhong Yuxiu Xue, standing nearby, and saw the young woman tightly pressing her lips, thoughtful—she must have noticed something amiss.
“She doesn’t think I arranged this on purpose, does she?” Chen Bing wondered.
“Principal, should we... stop the assessment?” Chen Bing whispered.
“Let’s watch a bit longer,” Shang Xiulin replied, expressionless.
Chen Bing looked questioningly at Shang Xiulin’s profile, wondering what he meant by “watch a bit longer.” Was it laissez-faire? Or reckoning after the fact?
Tang Fei stared at Shen Qingping, floating midair, a trace of shock in his eyes.
Both at Qi Mastery, yet he was so extraordinary?
Could a single grade difference mean such a vast gap in power?
Tang Fei knew, if he were in Shen Qingping’s situation, it would be near impossible to avoid that strike. Even if he dodged the vital spot, injury would be unavoidable.
“How did he manage what I couldn’t?” Tang Fei felt something was off.
Of course, he hadn’t yet considered that the school might be “cheating,” bringing in someone beyond Qi Mastery to assess him.
Would the school sacrifice its dignity and reputation?
Shen Qingping stared at Tang Fei, filled with hatred.
Yes, hatred.
He wanted to crush him, break his legs before he could step into the academy; a little resistance, then submission, would have sufficed. Why create trouble? Why force him to reveal his strength?
He had to admit, Tang Fei brought him “surprises.”
He, too, had once been at Qi Mastery and knew its limits well. When he unleashed the Shen family’s secret “Ghost’s Bane,” he was confident it would secure the victory.
He hadn’t expected Tang Fei to expose his real form with a handful of dirt—just dirt!
If word got out, it would ruin his reputation and bring shame to the Shen family.
“What’s wrong? Defeated by dirt?”
“Shen’s ‘Ghost’s Bane’ is nothing special.”
“No matter how fierce your moves, I only need a handful of dirt.”
—
He could imagine how venomous people’s words would be, attacking him and his family.
That dagger, wrapped and hidden by dirt, had been poised to strike his face. Had it hit, it would confirm “Ghost’s Bane isn’t as good as a handful of dirt.”
Shen Qingping refused to fail, refused to surrender.
In desperation, he could only use power beyond Qi Mastery to block the sneak attack.
He was at the Spirit Channeling Realm!
He’d advanced recently, but hadn’t told anyone, nor reported it to the school, so their records still showed him as Qi Mastery, top grade.
Shen Qingping knew the martial arena’s screen was watched by many. Amid the ghostly shadows, most students couldn’t see his tactics clearly.
However, it was hard to deceive Shang Xiulin and Chen Bing.
At this point, he could only end it quickly.
“Now, it’s my turn,” Shen Qingping said.
He tossed the dagger aside, his body suspended in air, then charged toward Tang Fei, brandishing a greatsword.
His body streaked across the sky like a meteor, the sword a dazzling arc.
Where the blade passed, a bloody afterimage lingered in the air—a mark left by sword energy burning the atmosphere.
Starlight Slash!
Tang Fei didn’t dare take the blow head-on; he dodged, vanishing into the forest.
Shen Qingping would not relent, locking onto Tang Fei’s energy and pursuing him.
Crack!
Each swing felled a towering tree, splitting it in two.
Bang!
Each swing cleaved a boulder in half.
Tang Fei darted through the forest like a nimble monkey, leaping and weaving, his movements so swift they seemed impossible.
“Ah!”
“Oh!”
“Wow!”
—
In front of the big screen, everyone watched in awe.
They hadn’t expected Shen Qingping’s power to be so overwhelming, nor Tang Fei’s escape skills to be so extraordinary.
Each time the sword was about to strike Tang Fei’s back or a vital spot, he evaded using his movement skills or the terrain.
His occiput seemed to have eyes.
Was he even human? What kind of crisis awareness and reflexes was this?
Swing after swing!
A hundred, two hundred, three hundred slashes.
Shen Qingping didn’t know how many times he’d struck, but he still hadn’t touched Tang Fei.
Not even the hem of his robe.
He was nearly driven mad with frustration, ready to explode.
He didn’t think Tang Fei was a monkey—he felt he himself was the monkey being toyed with.
“Shen Qingping relies on power; Tang Fei on skill,” Ran Ran commented. “How is he so familiar with the forest map? It’s as if he’s cleared it countless times.”
“I heard he’s from the Old Lands. Isn’t the forest map based on Blue Star?” Chen Meng explained.
“No wonder he chose the forest from the start—it’s his home turf,” Ran Ran nodded. “With extreme defense against extreme offense, the tide will turn once Shen Qingping’s yin-yang energy is depleted, and Tang Fei can seize the initiative.”
“That depends if he can last that long. Shen Qingping won’t give him the chance,” veteran Chao Xianghui said.
“Why, Teacher Chao, are you so confident in Shen Qingping?” Ran Ran asked.
“Heh, I just call it by the strength,” Chao Xianghui chuckled.
“I think Tang Fei has a shot,” Ran Ran replied, laughing as well.
Perhaps due to her bond with the chubby one, her heart’s scale tipped toward Tang Fei; she hoped he would defeat Shen Qingping.
Now Shen Qingping understood why Tang Fei insisted on the forest—he grew up there.
His earlier “I don’t mind” had become a deadly shackle.
Unable to break through, Shen Qingping’s heart filled with rage.
He no longer concealed his strength; his floating form multiplied into thousands, each wielding a sword.
Countless rainbows, countless afterimages.
The world was filled with Shen Qingping.
Tang Fei stared wide-eyed.
“This is Qi Mastery?”
He realized he’d been played—they’d sent a Spirit Channeling master to assess him.
He’d faced Spirit Channeling before, that time suffering broken ribs. The old man had used his own medicine, inside and out, and it took a long time to recover.
He didn’t know who was behind this, or why he was being set up.
But he refused to accept it.
Tang Fei’s eyes were bloodshot; his blood boiled, anger surging.
At this moment, he was deadly.
He just wanted a place at the academy—if they didn’t want him, they could just reject him. Why use such underhanded methods?
Because he was low-born?
Because he was a refugee from the Old Lands?
Because he hadn’t studied systematic culture?
Because—
No, there was no reason. Only because he was Tang Fei.
They wanted him to kneel; he would stand.
They wanted him dead; he would live.
Tang Fei looked at the sky filled with sword shadows, gripped his sword tighter, and instead of retreating, charged headlong into the formation.
Rip!
A wound opened on Tang Fei’s chest.
Slash!
His arm was cut, blood spurting.
Bang!
He was sent flying.
Blood poured from his chest, his arm sprayed crimson.
Blood streamed from his eyes, mouth, and nose.
He crashed to the ground, his body slamming against a massive trunk. It seemed everyone could hear his spine crack.
Yet he still gripped his sword tightly.
He wasn’t dead; he wouldn’t let go.
Pain!
Every inch of flesh screamed in pain.
Every bone ached.
Especially the broken left arm—it nearly made him faint.
To stay conscious, he bit his tongue, blood flooding his mouth, the metallic taste swallowed again.
Realm suppression!
This was realm suppression!
Everyone watching the screen was stunned.
“Shen Qingping isn’t Qi Mastery. That unity of man and sword is impossible at Qi Mastery.”
“He’s Spirit Channeling—at least lower grade. Shen Qingping is cheating.”
“Tang Fei’s going to die. He’s finished.”
—
No one believed a middle-grade Qi Mastery could defeat a lower-grade Spirit Channeling. It wasn’t just a grade difference—it was a realm.
Shang Xiulin remained calm, lost in thought.
Chen Bing looked ashen. She knew trouble had arrived; Shen Qingping wasn’t even hiding it now. What was he trying to do?
Phoenix’s face was icy, betraying little emotion, but her fists were clenched so hard her nails drew blood.
The virtual duel used a hundred percent pain simulation to showcase the contestants’ true abilities and provide clear standards for evaluation and elimination.
A wound in the virtual world felt just like one in reality.
A lost arm in the simulation hurt as if it were severed in the real world.
Phoenix knew Tang Fei was in agony.
Pain that pierced to the marrow.
“Big brother...” the chubby one was desperate.
He tried to rise from the stretcher, but the medics held him down.
“Don’t move. You can’t get up yet.”
“The match is still on; you can’t help even if you get up.”
—
He was completely exhausted, unable to struggle.
“Big brother!” he cried hoarsely. “Stand up!”
He knew his brother feared injury, feared pain, feared failure, and feared being despised.
He’d said before: in private, you can collapse; in public, you must stand. Stand taller and straighter than them, and they’ll fear and respect you.
“Big brother, stand up!”
He knew Tang Fei couldn’t hear him, but he shouted with all his strength.
---
He had promised to stay and cheer for his brother.
On New Star, the two brothers depended on each other.
His brother fought ahead; how could he remain silent behind?
He forced himself upright and, with his hoarse, powerless voice, shouted again and again: Big brother, stand up!
“Big brother, stand up!”
“Big brother, stand up!”
“Big brother, stand up!”
—
He wished every blow landed on him, wished his arm was the one severed.
He didn’t want anything to happen to his brother.
“Pfft!”
Tang Fei spat blood again.
He tried to mobilize his yin-yang energy to heal his displaced organs, but found the energy unresponsive—too many wounds needed repair.
“I’m dying!” Tang Fei thought.
“I mustn’t die!” he told himself.
They bullied him like this—he had to retaliate.
Yes, not for gain or dignity.
Just to vent his hatred.
For revenge!
They shouldn’t have bullied him so.
They shouldn’t!
Tang Fei, gripping his sword with one hand, stabbed it into the earth and used it to slowly stand.
Blood covered his body and face, hair loose, looking like a vengeful ghost.
He raised his head, glaring at Shen Qingping floating above.
“You shouldn’t!”
He soared upward, sword in his right hand, slashing fiercely at Shen Qingping.
“Idiot!”
Shen Qingping didn’t raise his sword to block, but slashed at Tang Fei’s head.
Yes, he was tired of the duel—it was time to finish it.
Starlight Slash!
The greatsword, faster, struck at Tang Fei’s head.
Tang Fei ignored it, maintaining his attack.
Shen Qingping was shocked—this was a mutually destructive tactic.
Though he could decapitate Tang Fei first, Tang Fei’s sword could still split his face.
Shen Qingping didn’t want mutual destruction.
He had invested so much—how could he die with Tang Fei?
He had to win. Only win.
In haste, he changed his move, raising his sword to block.
Clang!
The blades collided, knocking Shen Qingping to the ground.
He couldn’t understand how Tang Fei, with one arm, could still fight so fiercely, with such strength.
He didn’t realize Tang Fei was now in a berserk state.
He was burning his life to fight, exhausting every ounce of yin-yang energy.
Life or death—it didn’t matter!
Tang Fei’s body followed, raising his sword to hack at Shen Qingping’s head.
He aimed only for Shen Qingping’s head, to ensure a kill.
He had only one chance.
One strike.
Each blow was a gamble—life for life.
Shen Qingping had no choice but to block again and again.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Each strike aimed at Shen Qingping’s vital points.
Shen Qingping was intimidated by Tang Fei’s momentum—though he had every advantage, he was forced to retreat.
One, two, three strikes...
As if returning every blow Shen Qingping had dealt him.
“What are you afraid of?” Tang Fei asked.
Mouth full of blood, battered and scarred, but his voice and tone were contemptuous and disdainful.
He seemed the true victor.
“What are you afraid of?” Tang Fei asked again.
Each strike, he repeated:
“What are you afraid of?”
“You filthy lowborn,” Shen Qingping was enraged.
He stopped dodging, stopped blocking.
He lunged forward, stabbing at Tang Fei’s heart.
He wanted Tang Fei dead.
Slash!
The sword pierced Tang Fei’s heart.
Tang Fei’s body began to fade, about to vanish.
Slash!
Tang Fei’s sword severed Shen Qingping’s neck.
The head rolled to the ground.
“What are you afraid of?” Tang Fei stared at the severed head, letting out a furious, grief-stricken roar.
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(End of chapter)