The collision drove the breath from both of them.
Wu Shan recovered first.
His foot slid back half a step, heel grinding into the cracked stone as he twisted his waist sharply. The motion pulled Chen Yu off balance, and Wu Shan's elbow snapped forward, aiming straight for Chen Yu's throat.
Chen Yu reacted late.
His forearm came up instinctively, taking the blow at an awkward angle. Bone rang out. Pain shot through his arm like fire, but the elbow missed its mark, glancing off instead.
Wu Shan followed immediately with a knee.
It slammed into Chen Yu's abdomen.
Chen Yu folded forward, coughing violently as air burst from his lungs. Wu Shan seized the opening, grabbing Chen Yu's shoulder and shoving him downward, forcing his head toward the arena floor.
"You don't have the foundation!" Wu Shan snarled.
He raised his foot and stomped down.
Chen Yu rolled at the last instant. The stomp cracked stone where his head had been, fragments exploding outward. Chen Yu scrambled on hands and knees, vision blurring as dust filled the air.
Wu Shan did not give him space.
A kick lashed out, striking Chen Yu's side and sending him tumbling across the arena. He skidded to a stop near the centre, chest heaving, arms shaking violently as he pushed himself up again.
Around them, the outer disciples watched with tense expressions.
Wu Shan's cultivation level was clear now to everyone—late Body Tempering, approaching the threshold allowed for outer disciples. His vitality still surged powerfully, though cracks were beginning to show from prolonged output.
Chen Yu, by contrast, remained firmly in the early Body Tempering stage—no refined circulation, no structured technique, only brute endurance and instinct.
By all logic, this fight should have ended long ago.
Wu Shan advanced steadily, fists raised, breathing heavy but controlled.
"Every exchange costs you more than it costs me," he said. "You can't win this way."
Chen Yu wiped blood from his mouth with a trembling hand and forced himself upright. His legs shook violently now, muscles threatening to give way at any moment.
"Then I'll lose standing," he replied.
Wu Shan's eyes hardened.
He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. Vitality surged through his legs and spine, condensing tightly.
Several disciples stiffened.
"He's using Stone-Driving Force again."
"He can't keep that up much longer."
Wu Shan burst forward.
The distance vanished in an instant.
His shoulder slammed into Chen Yu's chest, driving him backwards. Before Chen Yu could recover, Wu Shan's fist crashed into his ribs, then another into his jaw.
Chen Yu reeled, vision flashing white as he staggered sideways.
Wu Shan pressed mercilessly, fists and palms striking in relentless succession. Each blow carried less explosive force than before, but the rhythm was crushing—no gaps, no hesitation.
Chen Yu blocked clumsily.
A forearm.
A shoulder.
An elbow.
Each impact sent shock through his body, pain stacking higher and higher. His breathing grew ragged, uneven, chest burning with every inhale.
Wu Shan saw the signs.
"You're done," he said, stepping in close. His palm drew back, vitality condensing into a tight spiral—Stone Pulse Strike again, aimed directly at Chen Yu's sternum.
Chen Yu's vision narrowed.
He raised his arms—but not crossed this time.
He angled them.
The palm struck.
The force slammed into his guard, driving him backwards several steps, boots carving lines through the stone. Pain ripped through his arms, but the blow did not collapse his chest as before.
Wu Shan's eyes flickered with surprise.
Chen Yu didn't stop.
He stepped forward again immediately, shoulder rolling inward as he closed the distance.
Wu Shan reacted, pivoting and throwing a short hook toward Chen Yu's head.
Chen Yu ducked—barely—and drove his body forward, ramming his shoulder into Wu Shan's midsection.
The impact was heavy.
Wu Shan grunted and stumbled back half a step.
Not much.
But enough.
Chen Yu followed with a punch.
It lacked power.
It lacked technique.
Wu Shan blocked it easily.
But Chen Yu threw another.
And another.
Each punch was slow, sloppy, and inefficient—but they came one after the other, driven by momentum rather than skill.
Wu Shan blocked, parried, and countered.
A fist slammed into Chen Yu's face, snapping his head to the side.
A knee drove into his thigh again, nearly buckling his leg.
Chen Yu staggered, nearly fell—
—and forced himself upright again.
The crowd was silent now.
No cheers.
No mockery.
Only the sound of impact, breath, and breaking stone.
Wu Shan exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through his expression. He shifted his stance once more, vitality surging deeper this time, pushing dangerously close to the arena's suppression limit.
"Fine," he said coldly. "I'll break you."
He lunged.
His fist drove forward, heavier than before, carrying his full weight and vitality.
Chen Yu braced instinctively, arms rising, stance widening.
The blow crashed down.
His arms buckled.
Pain exploded.
His feet slid backwards violently, heels slamming into the arena floor as cracks spread beneath him. His back struck the ground hard, breath tearing from his lungs.
Wu Shan stepped in, towering over him, fist already rising again.
Chen Yu rolled, barely avoiding the next strike.
He scrambled to his knees, vision swimming, blood dripping steadily from his face and arms.
Wu Shan closed the distance again.
Chen Yu pushed himself upright once more, legs trembling violently as he forced his stance.
Another punch came.
Chen Yu raised his arm.
Too slow.
The blow slammed into his shoulder, driving him sideways.
He staggered, nearly fell, caught himself—
—and stepped forward again.
Wu Shan's breathing grew rougher.
His vitality flickered unevenly now, output no longer clean.
"You're exhausting me," he said through clenched teeth.
Chen Yu didn't answer.
He couldn't.
His mouth filled with blood as he breathed.
Wu Shan attacked again.
Chen Yu moved to meet him again.
Their bodies collided once more near the centre of the arena, fists and shoulders crashing together as the suppression array flared brightly overhead; stone continued to shatter beneath their feet. At the same time, neither of them slowed, neither of them retreated, the fight grinding forward relentlessly with no opening, no pause, and no sign of stopping.