Chapter 22: Victory in a Single Punch
At this point, it was clear even to a fool that Mu Li's challenge was a deliberate provocation to humiliate Mu Feng. Mu Zhong furrowed his brow, his expression dark, while Mu Kuang and Bai Ziyue were so incensed they slammed their hands on the table, ready to retaliate.
"Sit down," Mu Feng commanded, raising a hand to stop them.
Rising to his feet, he fixed Mu Li with a calm yet piercing gaze. "Since Cousin Mu Li wishes to spar, I won't refuse. However, what did you mean earlier when you referred to my brother as 'something'?
"Let me remind you: he, like you, me, and everyone else here, is a member of the Mu clan. We are all family. If you call him 'nothing,' are you also saying the same about yourself, about me, and about everyone else in this room? Are you implying the Mu clan is nothing?"
His voice grew louder with each sentence, finally thundering with indignation. Though Mu Feng had matured through hardship, his youthful fire had not dimmed. He was still a warrior who had spilled blood on the battlefield—a youth with sharp edges and unyielding pride.
Mu Kuang, a brother in arms who had stood by him through thick and thin, was someone he valued deeply. Mu Feng would not tolerate anyone belittling him.
Startled by the ferocity in Mu Feng's tone, Mu Li hesitated, instinctively stepping back. Seeing the disapproving looks cast at him by the assembled Mu clan members—and even his father—his scorn for Mu Feng quickly morphed into simmering resentment.
"I… I didn't mean it like that," Mu Li stammered, scrambling to explain himself.
Mu Feng waved a hand dismissively. "Enough. If you want to spar, I'll oblige."
Turning to Mu Hai, Mu Feng offered a respectful bow. "Uncle Hai, please forgive my lack of decorum."
With that, he strode confidently toward the courtyard. Mu Zhong, Mu Kuang, and Bai Ziyue followed close behind.
"Hmph," Mu Hai huffed, throwing a sharp glance at Mu Li before trailing after the others. The rest of the clan members, sensing the tension, hurriedly followed.
In the courtyard, Mu Feng stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, waiting. A circle of spectators formed around him, their whispers buzzing with anticipation.
Mu Li entered the ring with a scowl.
"Cousin Mu Feng, make your move," Mu Feng said evenly.
"Arrogant fool. Even with shattered meridians, you dare act high and mighty," Mu Li thought, but outwardly he bowed slightly. "Then allow me to take the lead."
With a loud stomp, Mu Li propelled himself forward, throwing a punch that whistled through the air, its force enhanced by a swirl of pale white Yuan energy.
The power behind the punch—nearly 2,000 pounds—was a testament to Mu Li's strength. A promising youth at the ninth stage of the Meridian Opening Realm, he was one step away from breaking into the Purple Mansion Realm, a milestone in cultivation.
Yet, to Mu Feng, this display of force was nothing.
He leaned slightly to one side, letting the punch sail past him. Before Mu Li could recover, Mu Feng sidestepped the follow-up strike with a twist of his body, retreating lightly to maintain distance.
Mu Li advanced relentlessly, his fists flying like a storm. His speed was impressive, with seven or eight punches thrown each second, each one carrying the weight of a hammer.
However, Mu Feng danced like a leaf in a storm, dodging every attack with fluid precision. Mu Li's punches struck only empty air, the frustration building in his every move.
For the untrained eye, it seemed Mu Feng was being pushed back. But the seasoned elders among the spectators saw the truth.
"Impressive," murmured one. "That footwork… It must be the family's Swift Wind Step, and he's mastered it to a high degree."
"Indeed," agreed another. "His movements are effortless, and Mu Li's strikes can't touch him. Is this boy truly a cripple as the rumors say?"
Some, however, remained skeptical. "But notice he hasn't counterattacked. If his Yuan energy is gone, he might be avoiding direct confrontation."
Mu Li's frustration boiled over. Despite his superior strength and speed, he couldn't even graze Mu Feng's robes. The calm, almost casual way his opponent avoided him was infuriating.
"Stop dodging! Face me head-on!" Mu Li roared, his fists flailing more erratically.
Mu Feng's lips curved into a faint smile. "As you wish."
Suddenly, Mu Feng reversed his retreat. With a single step, he surged forward, his movement as swift as lightning. Mu Li, caught off guard, faltered for a split second—a critical mistake.
Seizing the opening, Mu Feng gathered his strength. The Yuan energy within his six restored crimson meridians surged to his fist, unleashing a tremendous force.
"Meridian Fist!" he roared.
Bang!
His punch struck Mu Li square in the chest. The impact resounded like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Mu Li's ribs cracked audibly as he was launched backward, blood spraying from his mouth.
He hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling twice before coming to a stop. Motionless, save for his shallow, labored breaths.
Mu Feng lowered his fist, exhaling a steady stream of white mist. His expression remained composed, his breathing unhurried.
The courtyard was silent. The spectators, including Mu Hai and the other elders, were too stunned to speak.
One punch. That's all it had taken.
The so-called cripple had utterly defeated Mu Li in a single blow.