Volume Two: First Signs of Brilliance Chapter 0044: The Cutting Edge

Over the years, Yang Cong had made quite a name for himself in the martial world. Though he started out as a businessman in his youth, his reputation remained formidable. Now, a mere boy, still wet behind the ears, dared to slander him so brazenly—how could he possibly let such an insult slide?

Raising his leg high, he delivered a swift, powerful kick, sharp and sudden as a startled horse’s reflexive strike. The force behind this move was undiminished, carrying all the momentum of his anger. In a flash, before Wang Hao could intervene, Yang Cong had already launched his attack. Wang Hao’s face changed drastically at this, but it was already too late to stop what was set in motion.

A whirlwind kick? The corners of his mouth lifted with intrigue, interest lighting up his face. He was here tonight to test these so-called martial arts masters—not afraid of experts, only of having no worthy opponents.

In response, his right leg lashed out like a steel whip, powerful and precise, pressing down with force to block the incoming kick. “Heh, so this is all you’ve got?” he sneered.

Yang Cong’s face twitched with embarrassment at these words. He hadn’t expected that his pre-emptive strike would be so easily thwarted. This was a hotel full of martial world figures—if he lost face here, the whole ancient martial community would soon be abuzz with the news.

“Fine, since you refuse to show respect, then I’ll let you witness the true Whirlwind Kick,” Yang Cong growled, his face darkening as he unleashed the full might of his Dao-entry aura. He seemed to merge with the environment itself, standing there as if one with the world around him.

This was the power of entering the Dao—natural law, enlightenment of the great path, not something ordinary martial artists could contend with.

Qin Yang frowned as he watched Yang Cong, thinking to himself: As expected, Yang Cong is formidable, far beyond what Master Yideng could compare to. After all, he has spent over a decade in this realm; his understanding of the Dao runs deep.

Suddenly, Yang Cong attacked again—motionless as a mountain one moment, as swift as thunder the next. He leapt into the air, unleashing a barrage of kicks so fast that the room filled with overlapping leg shadows, forming a gigantic phantom leg that crashed down with wild force.

The onlookers, faces alight with excitement, watched eagerly. Yang Cong was a legend in the martial world, his Whirlwind Kick unmatched.

Standing his ground, his clothes fluttered in a windless breeze as the power of thunder slowly gathered and flickered along his legs.

Yang Cong’s whirlwind kick landed heavily on Qin Yang, drawing gasps from the crowd.

“He got him! He got him! Challenging the Whirlwind Kick master is suicide!”

“Yeah, there are some real idiots these days.”

“Wait, something’s off—that’s just an afterimage!”

From the sidelines, Wang Kun of the Eight Trigrams Palm and Shao Bing of the Five Elements Staff, who had been seated, sprang to their feet in surprise, suspicion flickering in their eyes. Seasoned fighters could usually tell what was happening, but neither of them could fathom Qin Yang’s style or technique. Clearly, in their minds, this young man’s identity was far more mysterious than he let on.

A clap of thunder resounded—the figure hovering in midair was unmistakably Qin Yang. The footwork he had just employed was called Gale Step. While he knew even more advanced movement techniques, his current strength wasn’t sufficient to practice them.

“What sort of footwork is that?” Yang Cong’s shadowed face was filled with shock.

“Curious, are you?” Qin Yang replied with mocking amusement, a cold smile on his lips. “Well, I’m not telling you.”

“Courting death!” Yang Cong roared, channeling his energy once more and charging at him in a rage.

Enraged, are you?

“With skills like yours, you’re hardly impressive. You’ve had your turn—now it’s mine.” With that, Qin Yang moved again, his speed so great that only a phantom remained for the crowd to see. Even Wang Kun and Shao Bing could only barely make out a vague outline.

Thunderclap of Three Thousand.

This was not only a leg technique but a terrifying secret art—one of the Immortal Slayer Emperor’s proudest martial skills. When mastered, it could create countless doppelgangers, all unleashing attacks simultaneously—a truly fearsome sight.

Qin Yang had only just begun to grasp its essence; mastery was still a long way off.

Now, two Qin Yangs appeared midair, leaving the crowd utterly dumbfounded. Such a martial art was unheard of, unseen. To their eyes, Qin Yang grew ever more mysterious.

The power of thunder was exceedingly fierce. Having had his body reforged by it, Qin Yang was already far stronger than ordinary men, and his understanding of thunder exceeded most. His speed was blinding, his kicks raining down on Yang Cong like a storm. The attacks were relentless, as dense as raindrops, and—most terrifying of all—each blow landed solidly, with no illusion or trickery.

Yang Cong, defending himself, grew more and more desperate. How could he have known that, in trying to make an example of a random youth, he would encounter such a formidable adversary? Now, his Whirlwind Kick was completely suppressed, its effectiveness nullified.

“Get lost!” he roared, unleashing all his Dao-entry power in a terrifying punch that seemed to tear the very air apart. Qin Yang staggered several steps back before regaining his footing.

“Boy, you’ve really angered me now. Tonight, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

“Look! Yang Cong’s getting serious with his Whirlwind Kick!”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen him this angry before. This is going to be good.”

“I’d say that kid’s in real trouble now,” sneered the pockmarked youth.

Wang Hao’s face was filled with worry. He turned to Wang Kun, forcing a smile. “Master Wang, aren’t you going to intervene?”

“No need to worry, Wang Hao. Just keep watching. This young man is no ordinary fellow—he may not lose at all.”

Though still uneasy, Wang Hao could only defer when even Wang Kun expressed such confidence.

A moment ago, Qin Yang was dominating Yang Cong; now, the tables had turned. Qin Yang dodged continuously, never counterattacking. After a full ten minutes, Yang Cong suddenly realized, “You’re using me to hone your martial skills!”

“Hahaha, only now you figure it out? You’re not as dim as you look,” Qin Yang laughed. “But that’s enough. Time to end this. Don’t think you can lord your age over me.”

With a cold snort, he activated the Demonic Overlord Body. His aura surged wildly, drawing every eye in the room. What kind of secret technique was this? Even Wang Kun and Shao Bing, both mid-level Dao-entry masters, were filled with longing.

Yang Cong had never imagined that Qin Yang had such a trump card. As he prepared to attack again, a flash of thunder flickered above, and a sudden kick struck his chest without warning, sending him flying.

But Qin Yang did not follow up. Instead, he wore a contemplative look, clearly having gained some insight. This battle had deepened his understanding of thunder’s power; he felt as if he were brushing the edge of the Dao, yet unable to fully grasp it.

Yang Cong, seeing Qin Yang lost in thought, was overjoyed. A heaven-sent opportunity—how could he not seize it?

The crowd gasped in horror at the scene—none had expected the renowned Yang Cong to stoop so low, attempting to win by sneak attack. Wang Kun’s face was icy with contempt for such treachery, but he was too far away to intervene.

“Brother Qin, watch out!”

Yang Cong glanced at Wang Hao, then fixed his gaze on Qin Yang. “Hmph! Even if you realize it now, it’s too late. You’re dead this time.”

Boom!

A thunderous explosion shook the air. Blood mist spread as the crowd stared in utter disbelief at the outcome.

Qin Yang stood unscathed, while Yang Cong’s legs were grotesquely twisted and mangled, blood and flesh torn, cold sweat pouring down his pale face, his eyes filled with abject terror.

He stared at Qin Yang and screamed, “Dao-entry!”