“Looks like I’ll have to finish the job myself.” Zeng Fei stretched out his hands with an air of indifference and cracked his joints. “Ready yourself.”

He took one step forward…

…and used it to pivot his body around and sprint away from Dong Fu. No way in hell was he going into go into melee range with a body cultivator!

The jaw of the audience dropped: what kind of junior brother was this?

Dong Fu, who’d been preparing a vicious counter for when Zeng Fei attacked, too was momentarily stunned by the (brilliance of this) strategic retreat.

“Get back here, you coward!” He raged, sprinting after his opponent who was stuck at the edge of the arena.

Yet, as Dong Fu closed in, Zeng Fei’s expression morphed from a tense frown into an impish smile.

“Nope.”

Activating Shifting Steps, his figure blurred, creating afterimages that headed right and left.

Dong Fu hesitated on which route to close off, and this provided Zeng Fei enough time to swap places with one of the afterimages and reposition himself at the opposite end of the arena.

Safe once more, Zeng Fei wagged his finger in the air. “Tut, tut, tut.”

Seething, Dong Fu came after him again, this time charging down the afterimage closest to him the second it appeared. The beauty of Shifting Steps, however, was that the afterimage the user swapped to was not pre-determined and could be selected at anytime; hence, Zeng Fei simply chose to swap with the other afterimage and escaped Dong Fu’s grasp once more.

This process repeated over and over, each time Zeng Fei clicking his tongue and wagging his finger to provoke his opponent that much more. And like an enraged bull, Dong Fu continued to smack down the afterimage closest to him.

It wasn’t that Dong Fu didn’t have his own footwork technique - Turtle Rolling Down the Hill - but that this technique required plenty of space to build up speed, making it unusable in this small arena.

As such, he had to resort to draining Zeng Fei’s tank before going in for the kill.

Shifting Steps was a qi-intensive technique due to how much it took to create those afterimages, though they could be reused during the next casting as long as they hadn’t been destroyed; it followed, therefore, that destroying those afterimages was the best way of preventing successive uses of the technique.

But although Dong Fu was backing Zeng Fei into a corner, he abruptly stopped in the midst of his chase. He paused to take measure of his surroundings, and in no time became more enraged than before as he realised Zeng Fei had been herding him like cattle all this time.

Since Zeng Fei himself showed no interest in confronting Dong Fu, it was obvious what he was pinning his hopes on to win this fight.

Zeng Fei panicked on seeing Dong Fu change direction towards Pingu and realised he had to take drastic action at once.

Adopting the air of an arrogant young master, he pointed audaciously at Dong Fu: “Since you’ve pushed me this far, don’t blame me for not showing any mercy.”

Zeng Fei raised his thumb and bit down, drawing blood. “Blood Arts!”

The audience tensed up, wondering if they’d misheard; simultaneously, the Elders leaned forwards, preparing to charge in and stop the fight at any moment.

Dark reddish qi in the form of devilish flames began to emanate from Zeng Fei’s leg. Bearing a grim expression, he leapt high into the sky, and descended towards Dong Ju with his leg leading the way like a thrown javelin.

“Devilish Lance!”

Dong Ju made a split-second decision to roll to the side, dodging the devilish attack that, in fact, went wide anyway.

Zeng Fei landed with a combat roll and immediately got back to running, the flames around his legs fading as quickly as they’d appeared; his heart pounded in his ears and the discordant sound of the spectators was deafening.

This was why the Elders hadn’t interrupted the fight as they’d been able to tell straight away that his technique was all smoke and mirrors, just inefficient visual effects that had consequently left Zeng Fei close to dry.

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At least if Pingu had been up by now, the deceptive ploys would have been worth it, but instead the penguin was still barely struggling to his feet…

Whilst checking up on his partner, Zeng Fei happened to spot something blurry in his peripheral vision, something rapidly gaining ground on him.

This partial glimpse was enough for him to know that jig was up; and although he had enough qi to use Shifting Steps again, doing so would mean sacrificing Pingu, his win condition.

In that instant, Zeng Fei did not think: he acted.

The pains and efforts he’d gone to train; the ploys he’d prepared to distract Dong Fu in case Pingu lost the one-on-one and needed time to recover; the burning sense of vengeance demanding that he punish the one who’d treated him so unjustly; in this critical moment, everything driving Zeng Fei told him to man up and protect his baby penguin.

Under this surge of resolve, Zeng Fei suddenly pivoted and threw a wild haymaker at his furious opponent, casting One Fist, Three Punches. His fist connected against Dong Fu’s shoulder.

Which just so happened to feel like punching a wall three times, scraping skin off his knuckles…

Ah right, all that adrenaline had made him momentarily forget why classic cultivators hated being in close-quarter combat against body refiners; it had fooled him into believing he too could achieve what his dopey little minion could do.

All things considered, that was a bit silly… Oopsie, I guess?

These were Zeng Fei’s final (coherent) thoughts before he was caught in the stomach with Crumbling Castles to Sand; sent flying, he crashed to the ground and rolled to a stop.

He felt he had been gutted, wheezing for breath that didn’t come. All the same, he crawled on his knees and elbows, impelled by fear to get away. Towards those faces that exhibited everything from delight to dismay.

When the shadow then appeared over him, he collapsed down, hyperventilating.

A grip tightened around his upper arm and forcibly rolled him onto his back.

Above, he saw a face of malice relishing the moment, overcast over his figure like the ugly face of the sun.

It scorched down— huh?!

Zeng Fei’s eyes widened as he witnessed a fiery punch appear out of nowhere and crash into Dong Fu’s face.

Congratulations! Pingu’s Pure Yang Phoenix Fist has advanced to Level 6!

Dong Fu stumbled to the side from the impact and shivered, blood dribbling out of his open mouth and nose. But when he glanced up, those were eyes that bore glints of steel.

Breaking away from the script, Dong Fu ignored Zeng Fei - who was one or two good hits from lights out - and stepped forth towards Pingu. “You’ve got some fire in you, I’ll admit. But let’s see how well you can take it, little man.”

Dong Fu socked Pingu across the face before the penguin could react. The sound of flesh being clobbered resounded through the arena, yet Pingu did not fall back. And when he then glanced up, he too revealed unyielding, steely eyes. “Chirp chirp…? Noot brr noot!”

It was like a madness had overcome Dong Fu, his voice quivering with dangerous instability: “Come on, then! You think I’m scared of you, motherfucker?!”

Pingu’s wing arced from below for a vicious uppercut; Dong Fu ate it up full.

Dong Fu threw a one-two combo; Pingu made no attempt to dodge.

Again and again they went, man and penguin, taking turns and firing shots; for each successive blow, the blood from the human flowed freer still until his body became a natural gallery of grisly waterfalls; meanwhile, the penguin’s very form fell apart, the composite qi structure breaking at the seams from the punishment endured.

Congratulations! Pingu’s Kung Ho has advanced to Level 6!

…

Congratulations! Pingu’s Kung Ho has advanced to Level 7!

This gave Zeng Fei enough time to regain his breath but not much more. Since his qi had ran out, he was currently experiencing backlash throes for drawing too deeply on his qi, his muscles randomly cramping and body violently shaking like amid a spasm. Nonetheless, he kept Pingu’s summon active by desperately reciting the mantra in this state, willing to endure the agony for however long it would take.

To his fortune, it wasn’t much longer.

Dong Fu, bleary-eyed and unsteady on his feet, watched the silver wing slice towards him like a sword; and as before, he refused to dodge. The impact pushed him backwards and caused him to trip over himself, crumpling like a ragdoll. Yet, even in defeat there remained a smirk on his face, his half-shuttered glassy eyes staring off into the distant sky.

The arena erupted with noise as Pingu raised his wings to the skies victoriously; by his translucent webbed feet lay his bested opponent (as well as his bested master, for that matter).

There was no question of who the champion was, and everyone knew his name: their chanting thrummed the earth: “Pingu! Pingu! Pingu!”

The penguin showed his gratitude towards his adoring fans by bobbing his head about at the explosion of noise, joining in then with trumpeting of his own.

Moments later, his body liquefied into a mist of qi and returned to Zeng Fei.

This provided some relief from the qi backlash to Zeng Fei, who, despite being delirious from pain and teetering on the edge of consciousness, couldn’t help but feel there was something awfully wrong about this situation.

After all, here he was, cast to the side of the arena like some unloved toy while the crowd went crazy for his minion. This couldn’t be right, surely not…

The emotional pain from this, on top of everything else, was what tipped him over the edge. He too fell unconscious facing the sky, a frown lining his face.