Chapter 39: One Powerful Punch
“You defeated a level 8 enemy; gained 3 experience points.”
“You defeated a level 12 enemy; gained 10 experience points.”
“You defeated a level 18 enemy; gained 25 experience points.”
…
A series of notifications flashed before Chen Ming’s eyes.
Defeating fourteen people in total yielded only 78 experience points.
Once he reached level 20, fighting opponents in the teens granted pitifully little experience.
After a few repeats, each kill gave only 5 points.
How much experience would he get for defeating a level 20 opponent?
He was eager to find out.
…
In the backyard, Chen Rui sat rigidly in a chair, eyes closed to rest, but his hands gripped the armrests so tightly that they revealed his tension.
Lady Wei held their daughter, who was crying loudly, gently coaxing the little girl while a trace of unease showed in her eyes.
Nearby, six‑year‑old Chen Lide stood stiff‑faced, refusing to stray from his mother and sister.
A tense, uneasy atmosphere pervaded the air.
At that moment, they all realized one clear truth: the honor and disgrace of the entire Chen family now hung on Chen Ming’s shoulders.
If he succeeded, the whole family would bask in glory.
If he failed this trial, they would all plummet into the abyss.
And there was nothing they could do to help.
As the eldest son, Chen Rui felt a deep helplessness—when danger loomed, he found himself utterly powerless.
In that agonizing wait…
An excited voice came from outside. “He won… Second Young Master won!”
It was the maid Xiaohong, sent by Lady Wei to gather news.
Upon hearing that, Chen Rui felt a weight lift from his heart.
In his mind, he silently prayed, “Ancestors, thank you!” He tried to rise and help clean up whatever remained—but found he had no strength.
He could not stand.
“This is wonderful… wonderful…”
Beside him, Lady Wei wept with joy, hugging and kissing her daughter fiercely.
Little Chen Lirong, unaware of what had happened, only cried louder when she saw her mother like this.
Chen Lide turned toward the door, his face full of admiration and longing. He wished he could grow up to be like his second uncle—able to face evil, defeat it, and protect his family.
Just then, breathless Xiaohong rushed into the room.
Chen Rui hurriedly asked, “Tell me what happened out there.”
“The Second Young Master… he easily defeated those bad men… I heard people say he’s already an eighth‑grade cultivator.”
“Eighth grade?”
Chen Rui was stunned, disbelief written all over his face.
He wasn’t as naive as Xiaohong.
Though he had never trained in martial arts, he understood the ranking system well—and knew exactly what an eighth‑grade warrior meant.
Last year, Ah Ming had just broken into ninth grade after eight years of arduous cultivation.
Now, just a year later, he’d leapt ahead to eighth grade?
This seemed unreal.
He had never heard of anyone in Qingfeng City advancing a full grade so quickly.
Cultivators usually needed several years, even three to five years was fast. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to need seven or eight years, or even more than a decade, to stay stuck at ninth grade.
Could it be that Ah Ming truly was a martial prodigy?
…
When Chen Rui stepped outside, he saw those forced to stand at the gate and was momentarily startled—this scene felt eerily similar to when the debt‑collectors from the Wanli Gambling House came calling last year.
“Stand still.”
Gatekeeper Old Li held a bamboo whip, pointing and shouting harshly at them.
Those dozen burly men, all taller and more imposing than Old Li, dared not lift their heads before him.
Two of them lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious.
Ah Ming sat in a rattan chair, steeping tea. Behind him, Chunxiang and Xiaxiang fanned him gently.
“Brother, come sit.”
Chen Rui walked over, picked up the tea his younger brother had brewed, took a sip, and found himself overwhelmed with thoughts but unsure how to start the conversation.
Chen Ming spoke first. “I know. In business, harmony brings wealth. Big Brother, do you think I went too far, humiliating them like that?”
The question hit right at Chen Rui’s concerns, and he no longer held back. “I heard the president of the Martial Arts School Guild is the old master of, Master Lei. He’s a seventh-grade expert, once unmatched in the entire county with his Wind and Thunder Saber Technique. He’s not someone easy to deal with.”
Chen Ming gave a slight smile and replied, “He’s old. Over seventy now, and still has to keep up appearances for his school. That shows none of his descendants or disciples are competent. He’s not worth worrying about.”
“Brother, in the world of martial artists, kindness doesn’t work. That only makes others think you’re easy prey. Then everyone will come to step on you to make a name for themselves. That would be real trouble. Only by striking back hard when provoked will others respect and give you space. That’s what they mean by ‘One powerful punch now is better than a hundred punches later.’”
These words left Chen Rui sincerely convinced. “Ah Ming, you’ve thought this through—I’m relieved. Do whatever you must. No matter what comes of it, we brothers will bear it together.”
…
In the inner courtyard of the Wind and Thunder Martial Hall.
Lei Zhenguang sat in his study. His hair remained black, but the deep wrinkles on his face betrayed his age.
Standing before him was Lei Yucheng, just over thirty, earnestly seeking advice. “Grandfather, didn’t Patrol Envoy Sun say not to harm Chen Ming’s life? Then why did you send Li Xiangrong?”
Li Xiangrong had a fiery temper and domineering ways—injuring people was second nature. If he went, it’d be a miracle if Chen Ming wasn’t beaten half to death.
Lei Zhenguang patiently instructed the grandson he had high hopes for. “Do you think someone like Sun Shicai—young, already a seventh-grade cultivator, and a patrol envoy of Six Doors—would care about giving face to an old man like me?”
“This…”
Lei Yucheng looked awkward. He didn’t dare lie, but couldn’t outright say the truth either.
Lei Zhenguang didn’t mind and chuckled. “If I were him, I wouldn’t pay attention to a dying old man either. But he’s willing to give me this face—why do you think that is?”
Lei Yucheng suddenly understood. “He has a grudge with that Chen Ming!”
Lei Zhenguang first nodded, then shook his head. “That Sun Shicai has no magnanimity—narrow-minded and ungrateful. He doesn’t even protect his fellow disciples. It’s chilling. Yucheng, remember: as long as they are fellow disciples, and you have the ability to protect them, do your best. That’s how you win hearts.”
“Yes, Grandfather. I’ll remember your teachings,” Lei Yucheng replied, then asked, “But what about that Chen Ming? He’s only twenty and already a cultivator. That shows decent talent. Didn’t you always say people like him should be avoided if possible?”
Lei Zhenguang spoke earnestly. “Yucheng, as a martial artist, it’s impossible to get along with everyone in this world. The other eleven martial halls in Qingfeng City chose us to lead the Guild. When someone breaks the rules, we must act decisively.”
“That Chen Ming is just a ninth-grade martial artist. As long as Sun Shicai doesn’t protect him, we can easily take care of him. To eliminate future trouble, it’s best to cripple him. That’s the kind of task Li Xiangrong exists for.”
Lei Yucheng looked impressed. “Grandfather, your foresight is admirable. I’m in awe.”
As they spoke, an urgent voice called from outside. “Master, bad news—something terrible has happened!”
Lei Yucheng frowned. “What’s gotten you so panicked?”
“That Chen Ming refused the Guild’s decision and detained Senior Brother Li and the others. He says… says the Guild must apologize.”
“What?!”
Lei Yucheng was stunned. “Does Chen Ming have allies? Who would dare oppose our Guild?”
“No… he’s alone.”
“What did you say? How is that possible?” Lei Yucheng was both shocked and furious.
“They say… Chen Ming is already an eighth-grade cultivator!”
Eighth grade?
Lei Yucheng was utterly shaken. Instinctively, he turned to his grandfather—only to find his face filled with astonishment as well.