Wang Hao suddenly realized that all this overthinking, doubting, and hesitation wasn't like him. Something was wrong, something was off.
He looked at the manual. The purpose of it was to help him advance and become stronger. He needed a clear, empty mind, yet it was filled with unnecessary thoughts. His thinking felt muddled. The mind is a powerful weapon, and for it to be tampered with is dangerous—very dangerous.
Then it came to him—Corruption of the Heart.
His mind might be clear, but what about his heart? He is neither a genius, nor a failure. In this world, he might be average, but what set him apart was his background on Earth. He had lived there, accepted his death there, knowing his time had passed. Yet thinking back, he had a child, a wife. He wept at the thought of losing them when he first arrived in this world.
But this was a new life. He had to learn to let go. The art of letting go was difficult—a challenge for many. He doubted everything in this world because he couldn't fully accept that it wasn't his world. It wasn't his home. He was an outsider, and so was his heart. He doubted everything because he belonged to nothing in this world.
But he couldn't easily rid himself of these thoughts and emotions. They were what made him who he was today.
He couldn't let go. Not yet.
But he needed to move forward, regardless. He looked once more at the manual on the ground and copied the postures: the Rising Dragon stance, which represented a dragon's will to soar above the clouds and gaze down upon the mortal realm.
The Thrusting Dragon stance represents the unyielding will to press forward without retreat, while the Dragon Dance embodies agility and a carefree, fluid nature.
Yet he couldn't grasp it, not after a hundred tries, not after hours of breathing exercises and practice.
That night, Wang Hao stayed up all night. He kept practicing, ignoring his body's need for rest. His mind told him he needed time to ponder, but he refused to stop.
Morning came.
"Wang Hao, come out! I hereby declare a duel for the leader position," a young man shouted loudly enough for the whole temple courtyard to hear. The contenders gathered to witness the duel.
Someone had already reached third-rate martial artist.
The girl Wang Hao had saved two days ago, Bai Yun, watched the scene with worry. She felt indebted to him, but he never accepted her gratitude, which made her feel like she needed to express it somehow. That's why she chose to follow his leadership.
The young man, Zhao Jun, was unsatisfied. He wasn't appointed leader and was always treated like less than a rat in his clan. When given the chance to act like a powerhouse for once in his life, the temptation was too great. Most of his life, he'd been treated like a failure. Now, he wanted to be seen as a genius. Zhao Jun grinned, thinking he had the advantage. But he knew the risk—if Wang Hao had also reached third-rate martial artist, the outcome would depend purely on skill.
Wang Hao opened his door and stepped outside, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He was frustrated—he hadn't made it to third-rate last night, and now a brat was challenging him. Still, he didn't allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. He knew if he didn't have the strength to defeat Zhao Jun, he needed to rely on strategy to outsmart him.
The overseer had made it clear: the leader cannot reject a duel. If the leader wins, they are granted a week of immunity, during which no one can challenge them. Otherwise, the constant duels would wear them down.
Wang Hao knew they had a whole year to become third-rate martial warriors, yet Zhao Jun had already advanced. He had a head start.
As Wang Hao walked into the courtyard, dust underfoot and the winds of the mountain summit blowing fiercely, he clasped his hands and bowed to his opponent. The spectators formed a circle around them.
Zhao Jun returned the bow, ready for the duel.
Zhao Jun inhaled deeply, his lungs surging with internal qi, revealing his third-rate status. His veins and muscles pulsed with energy—he had never felt so alive. His body felt light, his muscles tight, and he was in the prime of his life.
He assumed the Thrust Dragon stance, aiming to end the duel in one strike.
Wang Hao got into the Rising Dragon stance. Although he hadn't reached third-rate, Zhao Jun didn't know that. He couldn't see Wang Hao's true strength.
Just as Zhao Jun prepared to strike, Wang Hao interrupted, "Wait, allow me to perform my cultural ritual before we start. It is a custom in my land."
The onlookers were startled. In this world, many different nations and cultures existed, and respecting someone's customs was a sign of honor.
Zhao Jun didn't drop his stance but allowed Wang Hao to perform his "ritual."
Wang Hao knelt and ran his fingers through the soil, muttering in a strange language—English, of course, but to the natives, it sounded like some otherworldly tongue.
When he finished, Wang Hao stood and said, "Thank you."
Before anyone could react, Wang Hao threw the dirt in his hand straight at Zhao Jun's face, catching him by surprise. Zhao Jun's face was instantly covered in dirt.
"You bastard!" Zhao Jun shouted, but before he could finish, Wang Hao tackled him. Zhao Jun's stance was broken, his energy dissipating.
He fell to the ground, his enhanced body giving him strength, but his mind was still reeling.
"Get off me!" Zhao Jun yelled.
But Wang Hao didn't stop. He hammered Zhao Jun with fist after fist.
"Submit, or I'll keep beating you," Wang Hao said, continuing to strike his opponent.
Zhao Jun refused to give in. His pride wouldn't allow it.
But suddenly, adrenaline surged through him. He focused his energy into his palm and punched, sending Wang Hao flying into the air. Wang Hao twisted his body mid-air, landing on his feet. He tried to launch another attack, but Zhao Jun had already regained his footing.
Wang Hao jabbed and weaved, using boxing techniques, avoiding Zhao Jun's punches.
Zhao Jun switched back to the Thrust Dragon stance, trying to land a decisive hit.
But after studying the Dragon Fist stances all night, Wang Hao knew their weaknesses. He couldn't perform them yet, but he understood how to counter them. Before Zhao Jun could strike, Wang Hao's elbow shot up, connecting with Zhao Jun's chin. Zhao Jun's world blurred.
Wang Hao took the opportunity to step back and perform a back kick. Zhao Jun doubled over in pain as the kick hit his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Furious, Zhao Jun tried another Dragon Thrust, but Wang Hao noticed something—his opponent was only using one stance. Perhaps Zhao Jun had only practiced that one stance last night to reach third-rate. He was no cultivation genius but he sure was a martial genius. but his battle experience was lacking.
Wang Hao ducked, avoiding the punch as it missed. The spectators gasped as Zhao Jun's punch veered toward one of them. A bystander was sent flying backward, landing hard on the ground.
The duel stopped.
Zhao Jun froze, realizing he had struck one of his own. The spectators' faces turned to anger. Even if Zhao Jun won the duel, no one would follow a leader who endangered his own team.
Before he could process what had happened, Zhao Jun felt a sudden, sharp pain in his groin. Wang Hao had kicked him hard, dropping him to his knees.
"You bastard! Where's your honor? You coward!" Zhao Jun shouted. His vision was fading, the pain unbearable. No matter how strong a martial artist was, they were still human, with human weaknesses.
Wang Hao, slowly walked up to Zhao Jun, grabbed his head from the back, and slammed the young man face, right into the ground.
Zhao Jun finally collapsed, his vision blurring The last thing he remember was the mocking faces around him.
His pride was shattered, and Wang Hao had earned a week of immunity.
But Zhao Jun would live with the humiliation for a lifetime.