Just as Ip An was feeling unsure on how to proceed, two gray-haired scholars with short statures appeared in his way. One had a long, well-groomed mustache while the other didn’t. Other than that they looked exactly the same in every way.

“Hey kid. Give us your paper”, the mustached one of the pair ordered.

Ip An was relaxed and immediately pulled out the paper the stocky man had kindly given him before sending him off and gave it to him. On it was name, age and affiliation as he had given his information earlier. The number ‘1997’ was written in bright red at the top of the rectangular dull yellow paper.

After giving it a brief scan he gave it back to Ip An and the non-mustached scholar of the pair explained, “Since you registered on the last day it’s going to take a few hours until one of those bean counters finalises things inside the hall. So your probably going to have to wait until late in th afternoon for your fights. Your free to sit down and watch but we’re not offering anything to eat and drink for free.”

Ip An took a mental note of this before replying with a slight bow, “Thank you. What is seniors’ names?”

“This old scholar’s name is Fu Gong, as for my brother here”, Fu Gong then gestured to his brother, “His name is Fu Dong. We are merely two scholars that make sure that the preliminary phase of the Rising Dragon Meeting goes smoothly without incident. So far we haven’t encountered too much trouble in, but i hope junior can help us with this endeavor.”

“Naturally!” Ip An smiled, “I would never wish to defy the rules set in place by the Three Star Pavilion.”

“Thank you for cooperation! If you do not have any questions then it looks like we will be attending to other guests”, Fu Dong thanked with a brief smile before attending to another youth that had appeared into the courtyard.

Once Ip An walked past the two scholars, he briefly surveyed the decently-sized courtyard. There was a crowd of youths of all ages surroundings the arenas on all sides. There were groups wearing the same uniform robes and insignia, signifying they were all apart of a particular school. Others were vagrants that kept to themselves or their own groups, just like Ip An.

All around, there were slightly shaking hands, uneasy eyes that were constantly darting around and nervous small talk. There were also carefree people filled with confidence as they layed back looking at the current fights as if it was play fighting between children.

As Ip An watched the fights play out, he secretly judged and compared it to what he was capable of. He saw fights that were neck and neck, that eventually ended in someone winning through a lucky opportunity. Some that were won through foul play and others that were just one-sided, ending in just a couple moments.

After about an hour of this, he felt like he had seen it all and began to perform some silent meditation. Within an instant, he felt the tiny tendrils of inner qi that extended throughout his whole body. Breathing in and out in a slow, controlled fashion that he had completely mastered, the inner qi cycled through his body, forming tiny insignificant specks of inner qi.

Over the course of the last two years, the tiny thread of inner qi at his lower dantian had grown to the size of a grain of rice. Everyday, he had gruelingly meditated for three to four hours a day in silence.

He would perform countless revolutions in those hours to the point where he would naturally fall asleep due to the exhaustion he would build up. In a way, cultivating inner qi as a mortal martial artist was basically the same as how an immortal cultivator did with heaven’s qi. Yet, they were different in many ways.

After tutoring from Manzi and borrowing books from the sect’s library as a ghost every once in a blue moon whenever Manzi also required something, he had gained considerable knowledge about immortal cultivation and inner qi cultivation, specifically, spiritual cultivation and body cultivation.

Spiritual cultivation was the process of taking in the heaven’s energy and making it their own to deepen their cultivation, and defy the heavens. On the other spectrum, body cultivation was done by refining strands of inner qi using one’s own life energy as an energy source. Overall, this would strengthen the whole body, make it more agile and improve reflexes.

However, the one major flaw that put spiritual cultivators on another level compared to body cultivators was that their was a limit on how much inner qi a person could cultivate. All body cultivation techniques relied on the dregs of energy that was released by one’s life energy. This was the same for Ip An’s cultivation technique, which was handed to him by Manzi.

This meant that everyone was forced to slowly accumulate inner qi over the course of their whole life. Of course, prodigies with immense talent and medicinal pills were a thing. If either or both were present, this would allow the person to jump leaps and bounds beyond the average practitioner that relied on the natural output of their own life energy.

Thus, powerhouses of the secular world were born. They were not to be underestimated either. With just a single stomp they could bring kingdoms to their knees and slaughter thousands. However, they were not unique and there were other powerhouses that kept them and themselves in check.

Still, there were powerhouses amongst powerhouses. These were the prodigies amongst prodigies. They received the finest of tutoring, countless medicinal pills and had the utmost talent. These were the ancient ancestors of the major sects and the wandering monsters of the secular world. This was what he highly suspected his master, Manzi, to be.

Additionally, once one reached this strength, he heard from Manzi personally that is possible to suppress and defeat even a twelfth layer qi condensation cultivator. In passing, he had mentioned that he had encountered a small group of cultivators headed by someone he suspected to be at the twelfth layer due to the power they were showing. Despite the seemingly insurmountable gap between cultivators and mortal martial artists, he defeated the whole group in a battle that his master admitted to be very difficult.

When hearing this, Ip An quickly became fascinated and obsessed with the idea that he could stand toe to toe with real cultivators. His desire to grow stronger had bloomed that very day, and since then it had been slowly developing. Ip An knew that as a body cultivator, there was a vast difference between him and immortal cultivators, but he refused to give up.

If immortal cultivators were defying the heavens, then he, as a mere mortal, would find a way to defy the earth that birthed his existence! To find a way to ascend past the being he was gifted with upon birth. This idea had slowly taken root in Ip An’s mind. Manzi’s training now had a purpose. He was slowly finding what he wanted to do with his grandfather’s opportunity. The possibility of walking the path of body cultivation was slowly becoming a reality in his mind and in reality.

Suddenly, Ip An was awoken from his meditation when he heard his number, ‘1977’, and name being called out from a distance.

“Number 1977, Ip An! Number 1997, Ip An! And Number 1923, Ye Hai! Number 1923, Ye Hai!”, a muscular man’s voice reverberated throughout the whole courtyard for all to hear. Ip An looked at the sky that was now a slightly darker hue, the intensity of the shadow of the tree that had now considerably lessened.

Realising that he was being called up for his first fight, he calmly stood to his feet and walked to the far right arena under the curious spare glances of those in the crowd. Walking up the short stairs of the elevated arena, he now stood several meters opposite of a youth that was about fourteen or fifteen years of age.

They wore bright yellow robes and at the right side of their chest in big black, artistic characters, was the word, ‘Power’. Ye Hai, as the referee announced, stomped his wooden staff on the ground and shouted with a slight trace of pity, “Junior! I am sorry that you have to verse me. I will do my best to end the fight instantly so you don’t have to suffer! Please, do not blame me. Just blame your foolishness for entering the Rising Dragon Meeting at such a young age. Maybe next time you could have a chance, but i must win this match!”

In the corner of Ip An’s left eye, he could see the lanky youth from earlier stabbing holes in him with his eyes. His spontaneous resentment for him was as clear as day and night. Just another reason to win this fight. Hearing Ye Hai’s confident words, he let out a small smirk. In Ip An’s mind, after seeing the level of fighting here, unless Ye Hai was an outlier.

He was going to win.

“Start!”, the referee shouted sharply as he sliced his hand down to signify the start of the fight.

Instantly, Ip An’s innocent face and figure darkened as he leaped forward with frightening speed. Crossing the gap between him and his opponent in just a few steps he was now mid-air, in front of a shocked Ye Hai. His carefree attitude completely gone, he hastily retreated a couple steps and swung at Ip An with his staff, cutting the wind sharply as it traveled through the air.

“Slow”, Ip An silently commented with cold eyes as he ducked under the staff. In the next instant, a few more swings came his way with each swing increasing in speed and power. Yet, none connected. Seeing this, Ye Hai was profoundly shocked and had an instant of doubt.

Passing his opponent’s defences and taking advantage of Ye Hai’s emotional shock, he punched towards Ye Hai’s stomach. “Not Good!” Ye Hai became extremely alarmed as he furiously gathered his inner qi towards his stomach. But it was useless.

Contained within Ip An’s fist was incredible power. It was something that he had ruthlessly cultivated over these past two years. The first form of the ‘One Strike Arts’. ‘Death’. But, it;s power was not destined to be used today.

Just as Ip An’s dark fist seemed to puncture into Ye Hai’s stomach, threatening to come out of the other side he suddenly dissipated the energy all across Ye Hai’s stomach instead of at one point. Something that was only possible due to his incredibly high level of inner qi manipulation.

The next instant, Ye Hai flew several meters through the air like a rag doll and into the crowd. Fortunately , everyone here had quick reflexes and promptly moved out of the way. Tumbling on the ground a couple times, he came to a stop and seemed to be unconscious.

At that moment, the whole courtyard turned silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared on in awe at the previously unassuming, twelve year old Ip An. One could hear a pin drop. The silence even caused the other fighters currently fighting to momentarily stop, noticing the sudden silence. Slowly turning his head, Ip An gave a smug smile at the gobsmacked lanky youth.

Forgetting to announce the winner, the referee stuttered multiple times while looking at Ip An as if he had seen a ghost, “Nu-Number 1977 I-Ip An Wins!”