Chapter 18 Narrow Field

By the time the next round was ready, the assessment grounds felt different. The early round noise had thinned out. Fewer disciples remained in the waiting areas, and those who did sat or stood with tighter postures.The four platforms were still active, but the fights no longer looked like chaotic outer sect brawls. The remaining names all had some kind of weight.

Lin Feng noticed it as soon as he returned to the edge of the plaza. Lu Cang noticed it too, and looked even worse for it.

"There are fewer people," Lu Cang said. "Why does fewer people feel more dangerous?"

"Because the weak ones already left," Lin Feng replied.

He rolled his right shoulder once. The dull ache from the previous matches was still there, but it no longer slowed him. What occupied him more was the changed atmosphere. After the elder’s warning, even the air around him felt watched. Enforcement disciples glanced his way more often. Ordinary disciples lowered their voices when he passed. The freedom of the early rounds was gone.

An amplified voice cut across the plaza.

"Next match, second platform! Lin Feng of Block C versus Wu Shan of Block B!"

A visible shift moved through the nearby crowd.

Lu Cang’s soul practically left his body.

"Wu Shan? Wu Shan?!"

Lin Feng already knew why he sounded like that.

Wu Shan was one of the stronger late stage Qi Condensation disciples left in the outer sect bracket. He was not as flashy as Zhao Feng, and not as connected as Pan Qing, but he had a reputation for stable strength and hard fights. People who had watched the earlier rounds spoke of him as someone who advanced without tricks and without drama.

In other words, the crowd thought he was Lin Feng’s wall. Wu Shan was already waiting on the second platform when Lin Feng walked up. He was broad-shouldered, short haired, and serious. His robes were plain, his stance clean, and his eyes held none of Huang Fei’s loud contempt or Pan Qing’s brittle pride. He looked at Lin Feng the way a craftsman looked at a flawed tool.

"I watched your previous matches," Wu Shan said. "You disrupt rhythm and talk. That ends here."

Lin Feng stopped at his mark and stretched his fingers once.

"Well we should test that. Shouldn’t we?" Lin Feng hit right back.

Wu Shan did not rise to it.

"Begin when signaled."

The Enforcement disciple raised a hand, checked both sides, and chopped the air.

"Begin!"

Wu Shan moved immediately. There was no wasted testing. His first step carried real weight, and the qi around his arm condensed into a blunt, heavy pressure. He struck straight at Lin Feng’s center, forcing a choice between hard defense and retreat. Lin Feng again chose retreat.

Fleet Footed Coward Dash activated under his feet, lightening his body and dragging him sideways off the main line of force. Wu Shan’s fist tore through the space he had just left, and the wind of it pulled at Lin Feng’s sleeve. Before Lin Feng could reset, Wu Shan had already turned, following with a low kick and a rising elbow in one continuous sequence. The man was solid.

Lin Feng blocked the elbow with both forearms and slid backward three steps, shoes scraping against stone. Numbness burst through his bones. Around the platform, disciples reacted at once.

"Wu Shan is stronger."

"He’s not giving him room to talk."

"This is more like it."

Wu Shan pressed the advantage without expression. His style was simple and efficient: occupy the center, cut off escape angles, punish every failed dodge. Lin Feng used Fleet Footed Coward Dash twice more in quick succession just to keep from being pinned against the boundary. He managed one counter palm to Wu Shan’s shoulder, but the impact felt like striking a packed sandbag. Wu Shan only frowned and drove him back again.

For the first time since the assessment began, Lin Feng felt actual pressure settle over the match.Good. If it were easy, the return would be small.

He stopped giving ground in a straight line and began forcing irregular angles, half steps and sudden pauses that made Wu Shan recalculate by fractions. It was not enough to seize control, but it prevented the fight from ending in a single exchange. The crowd’s noise tightened. Even some of the previously dismissive disciples leaned forward.

Wu Shan’s eyes grew colder.

"You only run."

"Yeah but i run efficiently," Lin Feng answered.

He activated the Thin Face Amulet.

The cool sensation slid over him, and he used it with more care than before. No extended performance. One precise cut.

"You’re very upright," Lin Feng said as he slipped outside another heavy punch. "Upright stance, upright attacks, upright confidence. Have you considered that just practising would make you better.?"

Wu Shan’s next strike came harder. The words had not broken him the way they had broken Pan Qing. They had only pushed him to end the match faster. That was enough. Faster meant heavier and heavier meant wider. Lin Feng watched the shoulder, watched the hip, and waited.

When Wu Shan committed to a finishing palm meant to blast him off the platform, Lin Feng triggered Fleet Footed Coward Dash at the last possible moment. His body dropped and cut inward, almost scraping the platform. Wu Shan’s palm crossed over his back by inches. In that narrow space, Lin Feng hooked Wu Shan’s front leg, drove upward with his whole frame, and shoved.Wu Shan’s balance finally broke.

It was ugly , it was forced and it was really really close.

But Wu Shan crossed the boundary line and slammed down outside the platform with a weighty crash that silenced the front rows.

The Enforcement disciple lifted his hand.

"Winner: Lin Feng!"

For a breath, the plaza did not know how to react.

Then the noise burst outward in overlapping layers of disbelief, irritation, and reluctant recognition.

"He won again?"

"Against Wu Shan?"

"That was too close."

"He keeps winning ugly."

Wu Shan rose from the ground with a dark face, jaw clenched so hard the muscles stood out. He did not shout. He did not curse. He simply stared at Lin Feng with a hard, burning look that promised memory.

Lin Feng exhaled once and stepped down from the platform. His arms ached. His breathing was heavier than after the Pan Qing match. This one had cost more.

Lu Cang nearly tripped over himself to reach him.

"You should be dead. Do you understand? That man was solid. Why do you keep surviving people you should not survive?"

"Because they keep leaving openings," Lin Feng said.

[Wu Shan’s suppressed fury is intense]

[Rage Value +236]

[Current Rage Points: 1,662]

[Milestone Progress: 8/10]

Across the plaza, Zhou Ming’s expression had grown colder. In the elders’ pavilion, one of the watching elders leaned toward another and said something Lin Feng could not hear. An Enforcement disciple updated the bracket board. Names vanished. Lines shortened. The field was narrowing fast enough for everyone to see where the remaining paths led.

Lin Feng checked the board once.nHis name still advanced. Zhao Feng’s name remained ahead, closer now. Close enough that the crowd had already begun to murmur the pairing as if it were inevitable.

Lin Feng flexed his sore fingers and smiled, small and sharp. The easy section of the assessment was gone. What remained would be more expensive and more valuable.