Chapter 478 477: A Master!

The middle-aged man's name was Hensian, Qian Hensian.

It was said that his tiger-shaped fist technique, executed with a single hand, was unmatched in its ferocity.

Hensian already knew someone had come to challenge the pavilion.

After changing into his training clothes, Hensian stepped into the competition arena, cupped his fist toward Fenric, and announced:

"Qian Hensian, please!"

There was no unnecessary chatter—just a direct invitation to fight.

The moment Hensian entered, the audience fell silent, all eyes fixed on him.

The students had long heard rumors that Hensian was a true disciple of the pavilion master.

To witness him in action today filled them with anticipation and curiosity.

Fenric frowned, his voice laced with impatience.

"Tell me this—if I defeat you, will I finally get to see your pavilion master?"

One opponent after another, all these so-called "warriors"… to him, it felt like nothing but a waste of time.

Hensian froze for a moment, his expression darkening. But he wasn't one to speak much, so he gave a curt nod.

"Yes."

"Good." Fenric's eyes sharpened. "Then let's begin."

Without hesitation, Hensian let out a low growl. His body shifted into the stance of Tiger Descends the Mountain and he lunged at Fenric with explosive speed.

His roar echoed like that of a real tiger, and combined with his fierce aura, it was as if a feral beast had truly leapt from the forest.

The students gasped, visibly shaken.

But in the very next instant—

Hensian felt it. An overwhelming force surged out from Fenric, so crushing that even a real tiger would have been obliterated in an instant.

His forward momentum stopped dead.

It was like a plane taking off, only to collide with a falling meteorite, plummeting instantly.

Boom—!

The wooden floor splintered, the entire arena trembling under the impact.

Hensian's body was slammed into the floor by Fenric, leaving only his feet sticking out.

The man himself had fainted on the spot.

If not for his years of martial training—strengthened muscles and bones—his body would have been shattered completely.

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Silence.

The audience was stunned into absolute stillness.

The students gawked, unable to comprehend what kind of strength could literally drive a man into the ground with a single blow.

And yet, this was Fenric holding back. If they knew he had used only a fraction of his power, their fright would have been immeasurable.

Several seconds passed before the coaches snapped back to reality.

"Master Qian—!"

Coach Zhou rushed forward, quickly pulling Hensian's unconscious body out of the broken floorboards.

Blood covered his face, and his body was limp—like a beaten dog, completely stripped of the aura he had carried moments earlier.

"One move… Master Qian was defeated with a single move!?"

The thought alone sent shivers through the coaches.

Fenric's strength wasn't something an ordinary warrior could possess. This was the might of at least a Rank Four martial artist.

The martial hierarchy was clear:

Ranks One to Three: Warriors.

Ranks Four to Six: Martial Masters.

Rank Seven: Grandmasters.

Rank Eight: Innate.

Rank Nine: Great Grandmasters.

Rank Ten: Martial Sages.

This system had been established by the government itself.

And while the title of "warrior" and "martial master" differed by only a single word, in truth, they were worlds apart.

Warriors cultivated qi, blood, and the body.

Martial masters could manipulate and compress their strength at will, unleashing power monstrous in nature.

At that level, ordinary firearms no longer posed a threat.

The coaches exchanged uneasy looks. None of them had expected the young challenger to be a martial master.

The pavilion was in danger!

"Quickly! Call the master!"

"Only the pavilion master can face him!"

The scene erupted into chaos—some rushed Hensian to the hospital, others hastily contacted the master.

Meanwhile, the students could barely contain their excitement.

"This is insane—the Dragon and Tiger Pavilion's reputation is in shambles today!"

"I wonder… just how strong is the pavilion master? Can he defeat this guy?"

"You don't even know what rank our master is, and yet you study here? Our master is a verified Rank Six Martial Artist, only a step away from grandmaster level! He's been officially certified by the government—it's not some bogus private evaluation!"

"That may be true, but look at this guy. He's terrifying. Even the master might not be able to win."

"Heh, we'll see soon enough. Either way, this fight's going to be incredible."

"Right!"

The students' chatter filled the air.

Back in the arena, Fenric's calm voice broke through:

"How long until your master arrives?"

A coach, having just ended a call, quickly replied, "Please wait a moment. Our pavilion master is close by—he'll be here in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Fenric nodded. "I can wait."

Coach Zhou stepped forward politely.

"Sir, the arena has been damaged. Why don't you move to another venue to rest? Perhaps have some tea?"

The coaches, once dismissive of Fenric, now treated him with utmost respect.

Fenric waved a hand. "Tea's not to my liking. Get me a glass of juice instead."

"Of course, sir."

Soon, Fenric was seated on a sofa at the side, where the front desk girl placed a fresh glass of juice on his table.

Without hesitation, Fenric lifted the glass and drank.

The students once again broke into discussion after seeing Fenric casually drink the juice.

"Is this guy not afraid of death?"

"Yeah! What if someone slipped something into that juice?"

"He thinks he's invincible, doesn't put anyone in his eyes. Too arrogant for his age."

"Mark my words—he'll suffer for it sooner or later."

These murmurs reached Fenric's ears, but he only smiled faintly, unbothered.

If anyone dared to poison him, it would be pointless. Even the deadliest venom in the world could not affect him.

After all, he possessed a body of Poisons Immunity—no toxin could harm him.

—---

Five minutes later, a middle-aged man entered with a calm, steady stride.

He was broad-shouldered, around forty years old, with a square jaw and commanding presence.

This was none other than Zohyan, the master of the Dragon and Tiger Pavilion.

Zohyan's sharp gaze swept across the shattered floorboards. Clearly, he already knew what had taken place before arriving.

Then his eyes landed on Fenric.

"The master?" Fenric asked casually.

"I am," Zohyan replied firmly. His expression softened as he added, "Thank you for showing mercy."

As a high-ranking martial artist, Zohyan could immediately tell Fenric had held back against his disciple. Otherwise, Hensian wouldn't have survived.

"But…" Zohyan's tone grew more cautious. "Friend, there is no grudge between us, is there?"

There were always two reasons for challenging a martial hall: one, to seek fame through combat; the other, to settle old grudges.

The first could be dealt with mercifully.

The second often ended in bloodshed.

Fenric shrugged lightly.

"Of course not. I only wanted to discuss something with you. Who would've thought I'd need an appointment? Having to fight your students one after another… quite troublesome."

Zohyan was momentarily stunned.

The onlookers, too, looked as if they had just swallowed bitter medicine.

So this terrifying challenger hadn't come to smash the pavilion… but merely to talk?