Chapter 56: Might of the Raging Dragon Fist—Perfection
The moment Su Tianhao moved, the atmosphere shifted.
There was no roar, no burst of spiritual energy—just a blur, sharp and silent, as his figure vanished from view. The wind split in his wake, kicking up dust as gasps rippled through the crowd.
Ye Wenjie's pupils contracted sharply. "Fast!"
Before anyone could react, Su Tianhao was already upon them—fist drawn back, coiled with silent, explosive force. No hesitation. No testing the waters. His strike was absolute—aimed to finish everything in one blow.
He appeared before Ye Jianping faster than the young man could even process, delivering a devastating punch directly to his unguarded stomach.
"AARK!"
Ye Jianping's anguished cry pierced the night air as the fist connected with brutal precision, sending him flying backward into the scattered crowd like a broken puppet.
BAM!
He collapsed completely, offering no resistance whatsoever—vomiting a mouthful of blood that painted the ground crimson before falling unconscious, his body limp and unresponsive.
"This—!" The crowd gasped in collective shock. Everything had happened in a single breath, before they could even properly settle in to watch the promised spectacle. No one had expected Su Tianhao to go for a finishing blow the very instant the battle started.
"So young, yet so vicious!" someone exclaimed.
"Quick! Check Ye Jianping's condition!"
Those closest to where he'd crashed hurried to his aid, surrounding his motionless form with concerned expressions.
"He's unconscious..."
"Not just unconscious!" A more perceptive observer's voice rang out with genuine shock. "Several ribs are broken and his internal organs have suffered severe damage. He'll be bedridden for at least three months before he can fully recover!"
The crowd was even more shaken by this than by the speed of the initial strike. Ye Jianping was a 1st level Martial Disciple—someone who had tempered his body and crossed the first major realm. To completely crush such an opponent with injuries requiring three months of recovery in a single blow defied all common sense.
"How much power did that strike carry?"
"To defeat Ye Jianping with such devastating results... that kind of strength is in no way inferior to a 3rd level Martial Disciple!"
"How is that even possible?!"
The courtyard erupted with heated discussion. No one had expected this at all.
"How is that guy so strong?!" the hawk-eyed youth mumbled in frustration and mounting fear. At only the 7th level of Martial Apprentice Realm, he'd secretly looked up to Ye Jianping as someone to surpass one day. To witness such a figure thoroughly crushed before his eyes by someone he'd regarded with complete disdain shook him to his core—his entire worldview crumbling around him.
The two maids were affected even more profoundly. Both from humble backgrounds with lowly servant disciple status, they'd risen to their current positions solely because Ye Wenjie had selected them as personal attendants. They'd always secretly envied Ye Jianping's strength and superior talent. Seeing this person—someone they'd considered far above their station—defeated so utterly by someone with seemingly no talent at all struck their minds like a physical blow.
"Monster..." they mumbled simultaneously, faces draining of color.
"Hmm... I always knew this kid was strange, but I never expected this level of ability." The massive middle-aged man's eyes narrowed as he observed with experienced precision.
Though the others had missed it entirely, he'd paid close attention from the very beginning and was able to fully gauge the true scope of what he'd witnessed.
'This kid possesses physical power of roughly four thousand pounds,' he thought with growing fascination. 'But how is that even remotely possible for someone at the 1st level of Martial Disciple Realm?'
---
On the open battleground, Ye Wenjie's expression turned deadly serious after a long moment of stunned silence. His handsome features twisted into something ugly.
'Ye Jianping was standing right beside me, yet I couldn't do anything to stop that attack,' he cursed inwardly, rage threatening to consume his composure entirely. 'I, Ye Wenjie, will wash away this humiliation with your blood, Su Tianhao!'
He wasn't particularly angry about Ye Jianping being bedridden for three months. What truly enraged him was that he'd been completely unable to prevent Su Tianhao from achieving such a decisive victory even in his direct presence. When word spread throughout the city, people would say:
'Young Master Wenjie and his follower faced Su Tianhao in a two-against-one match, yet in a single instant, Su Tianhao defeated his companion before Young Master Wenjie could even react—completely helpless to save his own man.'
The thought alone was intolerable.
Ye Wenjie forcefully suppressed his boiling rage and turned to Su Tianhao with a carefully constructed smile. "Looks like you really capitalized on your free opening strike."
Hmph.
Su Tianhao dismissed the words entirely without even dignifying them with a verbal response. Though Ye Wenjie tried desperately to hide it behind that false smile, Su Tianhao could instantly perceive the impotent fury burning like wildfire in the depths of those slanted eyes.
Seeing the utterly dismissive reaction, Ye Wenjie's forced smile tightened dangerously. "You're truly shameless, Su Tianhao—launching what amounts to an ambush on unprepared opponents!"
"Ambush?" Su Tianhao sneered with unmasked disdain, voice dripping with mockery. "You personally asked me to make the first move before I struck, yet now you call that an ambush? How convenient."
"That's right! How could that possibly be called an ambush?"
"Young Master Wenjie clearly granted Su Tianhao the first move! Even Ye Jianping mocked him for accepting the offer!"
"Every man has his limits. Even the most tolerant person will eventually fight back when pushed too far."
"Even if Su Tianhao loses tonight, there's nothing shameful about it—he's already proven himself beyond any doubt."
Ye Wenjie's frown deepened upon hearing these dissenting voices, his hatred for Su Tianhao surging to unprecedented heights.
"Since you've already taken your first move, there's no need to keep wasting breath! Die!"
The moment Ye Wenjie's wrathful declaration rang out, he launched forward with impressive footwork that seemed almost designed to confuse the observer's eyes. His figure weaved through the air like a serpent in motion—unpredictable, fluid, and lethally sharp. His palm twisted mid-flight, fingers curling in a strange, unnatural arc as he channeled all his accumulated strength into a spiraling strike that seemed to drill through the very air itself.
"Coiling Serpent Palm!"
A fierce wind stirred violently as the technique fully unleashed. The surrounding air rippled in distinctly unnatural ways, as though some invisible twisting force was actively bending space between the two combatants. The palm strike appeared deceptively graceful on the surface—but carried a vicious, drilling pressure, like a constrictor coiling ever tighter around its victim, preparing to snap its prey's spine with ruthless efficiency.
Su Tianhao's golden pupils narrowed with instant recognition.
That palm technique wasn't merely fast—it possessed a strange pulling quality, as though it actively sought to entangle his movement, twist apart his defensive posture, and leave him completely exposed to follow-up attacks.
"Coiling Serpent Palm!" a voice cried from the crowd.
The hawk-eyed youth—trembling with renewed admiration, clearly hoping this would restore the shattered confidence he'd just experienced. "That's Young Master Wenjie's strongest martial art! A peak-grade Mortal rank technique—and he's cultivated it nearly to Perfection!"
Shocked gasps echoed throughout the crowd.
"He's advanced it that far already?"
"Near Perfection at his age?"
"As expected of the Ye family's most outstanding young master!"
"Su Tianhao is finished now!"
Some spectators shook their heads in sympathy. Others nodded with absolute certainty. In their minds, the final verdict had already been delivered.
Su Tianhao heard every word. His lips curled slightly—not in fear, but in pure, undiluted mockery.
'Peak-grade Mortal rank technique? Near Perfection?' he scoffed inwardly, golden eyes glinting like molten steel in the starlight. 'Let's see how well it holds up against the Raging Dragon Fist at true Perfection.'
Ye Wenjie closed the remaining distance in a heartbeat.
The coiled palm surged forward with devastating momentum, shooting directly toward Su Tianhao's dantian like a venomous serpent's fang—clearly aiming to cripple his cultivation with a single decisive blow.
Su Tianhao's gaze turned absolutely frosty. "Trying to destroy my dantian? How truly vicious."
He lifted his arm slowly—deliberately—with perfect calm despite the lethal attack bearing down on him.
"But tell me, Ye Wenjie—are you worthy?"
The moment those cold words rang out across the courtyard, his fist clenched with audible force. His entire stance shifted dramatically—rooted, dangerous, coiled like an apex predator preparing to strike. Just as Ye Wenjie drew within optimal range, Su Tianhao exploded forward like a descending comet, his overwhelming aura bursting outward with fierce, unstoppable intensity.
BOOM!
"Raging Dragon Fist—Dragon Roar Descent!"
A sharp, bone-deep crack echoed from within Su Tianhao's body—the unmistakable sound of muscles, tendons, and bones all tightening simultaneously under immense internal pressure. Veins bulged prominently along his entire arm, surging with relentless, barely contained raw power.
ROOOOAAR!!!
A phantom dragon's roar thundered forth from within him, shaking the very air like a devastating tempest suddenly unleashed upon the mortal realm.
His azure robes whipped wildly around him as if possessed by living wind, and in that single moment, Su Tianhao resembled nothing less than a true raging dragon descending from the heavens with devastating divine might upon its helpless prey.
Ye Wenjie's eyes widened in sudden shock and primal fear, every combat instinct screaming warnings of mortal danger as Su Tianhao's explosive aura completely engulfed the space around them both. But before he could react or adjust his committed attack—
BOOOOOM!!!!
A thunderous explosion of pure force ripped through the night air as Su Tianhao's devastating fist crashed against Ye Wenjie's incoming palm strike. Visible shockwaves radiated outward violently in every direction, forcing spectators to shield their faces or risk being knocked down.
"AAAARGH!"
A sharp, agonized cry tore through the sudden silence as Ye Wenjie's body was flung backward like a broken ragdoll—spinning helplessly through the air at terrifying speed. The crowd scattered in panic as his tumbling figure slammed into the hard ground with earth-shattering force, finally skidding to a stop dozens of meters away in a cloud of dust and debris.
Absolute silence descended.
All eyes turned slowly—first toward the crater-like impact site where Ye Wenjie lay crumpled... then gradually back toward the solitary figure still standing utterly unmoved at the center of the makeshift battlefield.
Su Tianhao.
Azure robes still billowing. Right fist still raised in perfect striking form. Golden eyes blazing with barely restrained power and absolute authority. Thin trails of dissipating smoke curled upward from his knuckles, coiling through the air like ethereal serpents paying homage to their master.
He stood completely alone—tall, unwavering, dominant.
This was Su Tianhao's true strength. The kind of overwhelming power no ordinary cultivator at his realm should ever possess.
But he was no ordinary cultivator struggling along the martial path.
He was a Dragon.
A Supreme Dragon.