Chapter 18 ( test of skill )

  As they approached the restaurant, Shen Xinyi smiled knowingly.

  "I’m a regular here," she said.

  Adam glanced up at the large neon-lit sign above the entrance, blinking once.

  The glowing characters proudly read: Heavenly Brawl Pavilion.

  He raised an eyebrow slightly.

  “…Why is it called that?”

  "You’ll understand once we get inside," Shen Xinyi said, her tone suspiciously casual.

  They stepped through the entrance.

  Surprisingly, nothing happened.

  The interior was relatively normal—rows of sturdy tables, waiters in simple uniforms, the scent of roasted meats and fresh buns hanging in the air.

  But there was an undeniable tension under the surface.

  Every table seemed a little too spaced out, and people sat stiffly, their eyes constantly darting to others in the room.

  Some wore barely-concealed smirks. Others bounced their knees anxiously. A few clenched their fists with excitement.

  It wasn’t fear—it was anticipation.

  Shen Xinyi looked around, casually stretching her arms.

  "Looks like it hasn’t started yet," she said with a hint of disappointment.

  Adam, still expressionless, turned to her.

  "Started what?"

  Before she could answer, a loud voice suddenly exploded from a nearby table:

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY FIANCéE SLEPT WITH YOU—YOU'RE HER BROTHER!"

  The entire restaurant fell silent for a split second.

  Adam blinked once.

  Even with his death Qi induced indifference, he felt stunned at the sheer outrageousness of the accusation.

  Before he could even process it, the two men at the table leapt up and launched into a full-on fistfight, throwing plates, chairs, and each other across the room.

  The first clash acted like a spark to dry grass.

  One by one, other tables erupted into chaos, people standing and yelling the most ridiculous accusations imaginable:

  "You stole my chicken spirit beast!"

  "Your mother owes me three spirit stones!"

  "You broke my cultivation manual by looking at it wrong!"

  Fists flew, chairs shattered, and somehow, the waiters moved around it all as if it were normal—ducking flying bowls and calmly refilling teapots.

  Adam simply stood there, his expression blank, mentally filing this under: “What the hell.”

  Next to him, Shen Xinyi smiled brightly and stretched again.

  "You go ahead and order food," she said. "I’ll be back in a minute."

  Without another word, she picked up a ceramic teacup, casually lobbed it across the room, and shouted:

  "TIME FOR ROUND THREE HUNDRED, YOU BASTARD!"

  Adam watched in muted disbelief as she dove straight into the growing melee, throwing a punch with a big grin on her face.

  He turned toward the counter slowly, ignoring the crash of bodies and furniture around him.

  After a moment, he calmly asked the confused waiter, "Menu?"

  Adam picked up the menu from the counter, flipping it open with a calm motion.

  Instead of a list of dishes, the very first page was titled in bold, glowing letters:

  Heavenly Brawl Pavilion Rules:

  1. All disputes must be settled physically.

  2. Weapons are allowed but mortal injuries will result in compensation fees.

  3. If you start a fight, you must pay for any damages caused.

  4. Spectators are allowed to bet on ongoing brawls.

  5. Food orders interrupted by a brawl are non-refundable.

  6. The Pavilion is not responsible for lost teeth, broken bones, or damaged reputations.

  7. The winner gets a 50% discount on their meal if they participate and win at least one fight.

  8. Heavenly Brawl Pavilion reserves the right to throw you out if you’re too boring.

  (Even first timers do not get a pass)

  Adam stared at the rules silently for a long moment.

  The sounds of fighting grew louder behind him — a table crashed to the ground, someone screamed about a debt involving a donkey, and laughter mixed with the chaos like a casual background hum.

  Without changing his expression, Adam flipped to the next page to finally look at the food.

  After memorizing the bizarre rules, Adam flipped the page.

  The menu looked surprisingly normal at first glance... until he actually read the names:

  > Heavenly Specials:

  "Iron Fist Stir Fry" – Warning: Slightly spicy. May cause minor Qi turbulence if consumed during combat.

  "Broken Sword Beef Noodles" – Guaranteed to recover some stamina lost in battle.

  "Crumbling Mountain Fried Rice" – Ingredients smashed under a Core Formation expert’s palm for that authentic texture.

  "Bloody Vow Hotpot" – Eat at your own risk. Perfect for post-fight bonding.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Heavenly Chicken Roll" – Rumored to have been chased down by the chef personally.

  At the bottom of the page, in bold red letters:

  > All meals prepared personally by Chef Liu Kang (Core Formation Stage Expert, retired).

  Note: Fighting the chef is forbidden. Repeat offenders will be sent flying out of town.

  Adam’s eyelid twitched slightly as he read the fine print.

  He put the menu down, his face as expressionless as ever, but inside...

  What kind of absurd place did I just walk into?

  The sounds of tables breaking, dishes flying, and people laughing (or groaning) in pain surrounded him like a strange sort of restaurant ambiance.

  He calmly raised a hand to signal a waiter, who dodged a flying bottle mid-stride and arrived with a practiced, unfazed smile.

  "One Crumbling Mountain Fried Rice," Adam said, voice even.

  "And some tea."

  The waiter bowed, then immediately ducked as a chair sailed over Adam's head, missing by inches.

  Adam didn’t even blink.

  A few minutes later, Shen Xinyi returned, dusting off her sleeves like she just finished sweeping the floor.

  She slid into the seat across from Adam, who was calmly sipping his tea as if the surrounding madness was background noise.

  "Ahh, that hit the spot," she said cheerfully. "Broke three tables and a guy's nose. Good warm-up."

  Adam simply nodded. "Your tea's getting cold," he said, pushing her cup toward her without looking.

  Shen Xinyi grinned, picking it up. "You really are no fun, you know that?"

  Before Adam could answer, a burly young man with a swollen eye and a bloodied lip stomped over to their table.

  He slammed his fist into his palm, glaring at Adam. "Hey you! You’re too quiet! I don’t like your face! Fight me!"

  Adam blinked once. He looked at Shen Xinyi.

  She gave him a dazzling smile and said sweetly, "Oh right, forgot to tell you. You can't refuse a fight here. It's part of the rules."

  Adam raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Even if I don’t want to waste my time?"

  "Especially if you don’t want to," she chirped, sipping her tea. "The others will not let you out

  and the chef will personally ‘escort’ you out."

  Adam’s gaze briefly flickered toward the kitchen door. He could feel the presence inside — heavy, immovable, like a mountain.

  Not worth provoking.

  “What a troublesome place you brought me to”

  "That permanent scowl of yours needs shaking loose—and trust me, nothing rattles the rust off a soul like a proper Pavilion brawl.”

  He sighed quietly, stood up, and brushed off his robes.

  Facing the burly disciple, Adam said flatly, "Fine. Let's get this over with."

  The man grinned savagely and took a stance.

  Shen Xinyi clapped her hands excitedly. "Go, Adam! Show him that deathly stare of yours!"

  Several spectators nearby began cheering, banging on tables, eager for more carnage.

  Adam adjusted his sleeves lazily.

  The fight was about to begin.

  Adam calmly removed his crimson outer robe and folded it neatly, placing it on the table beside Shen Xinyi.

  The movement was so casual that most people didn’t pay much attention at first... until they caught a glimpse of his left arm.

  A hush spread through the Heavenly Brawl Pavilion.

  From Adam’s elbow downward, his arm was no longer fully human.

  It was an eerie fusion of metal and flesh — jagged patches of what looked like a blade grown into skin, like a grotesque masterpiece of patchwork.

  The dull gleam of steel veins ran under his skin, pulsing faintly with life.

  Some of the more experienced cultivators in the restaurant narrowed their eyes.

  Whispers broke out.

  "That’s... not natural."

  "Is that a cursed artifact? Or..."

  "Maybe he's half-spirit beast?"

  Shen Xinyi just sipped her tea nonchalantly, like this was all perfectly normal.

  Meanwhile, the burly young man who had challenged Adam hesitated.

  His bravado faltered slightly as he stared at the strange, alien arm.

  Adam flexed his sword-arm once.

  It made a faint, metallic creaking noise — like an ancient weapon waking up after a long slumber.

  He met the challenger’s gaze without emotion.

  "Are you starting," Adam asked quietly, "or do you need time to reconsider your life choices?"

  A bead of sweat ran down the man's forehead.

  But under the jeering cries of the surrounding crowd ("Fight! Fight! Fight!"), he roared and charged forward anyway.

  Adam’s expression didn’t change.

  The burly man charged in recklessly, throwing heavy, bone-crushing swings meant to flatten Adam where he stood.

  His left fist shot out first, a brutal hook aimed at Adam’s side.

  Adam slid to the side, his movement so fluid it was almost lazy — the punch slicing harmlessly through the air.

  Before the man could recover, his right fist followed, swinging like a hammer toward Adam’s head.

  Adam leaned back, feeling the force of it whistle past his ear, the air disturbed by the sheer power behind the blow.

  But on the third strike, Adam didn’t dodge.

  He stepped in.

  The burly man's fist met Adam’s forehead with a dull thud — a sudden, anticlimactic sound.

  Adam had leaned just enough to cut the momentum, absorbing the impact like a stone pillar absorbing a breeze. His head didn’t even budge.

  The burly man blinked in disbelief, thrown off for a precious second.

  In that frozen moment, Adam moved.

  His right hand snapped upward like a striking viper — a clean uppercut that slammed into the man's jaw with a sharp crack.

  The burly man staggered, his head snapping back — but his body refused to fall.

  He tried to stumble away, but something pinned him in place.

  Adam’s foot, steady and ruthless, was pressed firmly onto his own.

  “Going somewhere?” Adam said, voice calm as a still lake.

  The burly man snarled through bloodied teeth, trying to steady himself.

  Adam fainted a punch toward the man's chest — a feint quick and convincing enough to force a reaction.

  The man threw up both arms to block instinctively.

  It was a mistake.

  Adam’s left arm — a grotesque fusion of flesh and sword-steel — moved in a blur, stabbing downward.

  There was a wet, sickening squelch as Adam's blade-arm drove into the burly man's foot.

  The man's mouth opened in a soundless scream. He faltered, pain shooting up his leg — but he didn’t fall.

  Good, Adam thought.

  Before the man could launch a desperate swing, Adam closed the distance again.

  He grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, yanked him forward — and rammed a vicious knee into the man's face.

  The burly man’s arms, raised too late, only helped him eat the full brunt of the blow.

  Blood splattered onto the floor as he stumbled back, arms red and trembling from the bruises.

  With a roar, the man lunged in a last-ditch tackle, hoping to drag Adam down with him.

  But Adam was already moving.

  He shot forward with brutal precision, his shoulder slamming into the burly man's solar plexus like a battering ram.

  The man’s body jerked — then went limp, crumpling to the floor with a heavy thud.

  The entire restaurant paused for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden violence.

  Then the place exploded in cheers, jeers, and wild laughter — as if another day's entertainment had finally kicked off.

  Adam straightened, calmly adjusting his sleeves, his face as expressionless as ever — a solitary stillness amidst the chaos.

  As the cheers were dying down, a heavy voice cut through the noise like a blade through paper.

  "You showed us a good fight, kid."

  Adam turned his head calmly toward the speaker.

  A man even larger than the first stood there, arms crossed over a barrel chest, a sword sheathed at his waist.

  His presence was heavy — not just from his size, but from the obvious experience leaking from every scar across his arms and neck.

  He grinned, flashing yellowed teeth.

  "Now show me your swordsmanship, sword freak."

  He slapped the hilt of his sword with a heavy palm, the thunk echoing through the tense air.

  The crowd immediately grew louder again, sensing another show was about to start.

  Adam's expression remained unreadable.

  Without a word, he shifted his gaze down to his own left arm — the grotesque fusion of flesh and steel that served as his 'sword.'

  He flexed the fingers of his right hand once, tightening and loosening them in slow, deliberate motion, almost as if measuring the situation.

  A thin smile, almost imperceptible, touched the edge of his lips.

  "Fine," Adam said softly, voice almost drowned by the rising noise. "I'll entertain you."

  He stepped forward, leaving the unconscious body of the first man behind like discarded trash.

  The crowd parted slightly to form a loose circle around them, the restaurant once again transforming into a makeshift arena of chaotic anticipation.

  Adam’s body blurred as he lunged forward, the fused sword-arm slashing horizontally, aiming for the swordsman’s chest.

  The swordsman reacted immediately.

  With a sharp twist of his wrist, he parried the blow with the flat of his blade — sparks flying where steel met steel-flesh.

  Without hesitation, the swordsman riposted, thrusting his sword straight for Adam’s heart in a clean, ruthless line.

  Adam’s instincts screamed, but his mind was calm.

  He shifted his body sideways, minimizing his profile, and raised his sword-arm to intercept.

  Clang.

  The swordsman's thrust struck Adam’s sword-arm at an angle, sliding harmlessly off its strange, patchwork surface — the fusion of flesh and blade absorbing the impact with a hollow ring.

  Both fighters reset their footing almost at the same time, their eyes locked.

  The real fight had just begun.

  Adam lunged forward with a vicious overhead vertical slash, the weight of his sword howling through the air. The swordsman calmly sidestepped, his movement sharp and efficient, gliding just outside the arc of the strike.

  But Adam wasn't done.

  Using the momentum, he twisted his hips and brought his blade down in a swift diagonal slash aimed at his opponent’s midsection. The swordsman pivoted again, light on his feet—just enough spacing—before retaliating with a sudden flurry.

  Slash. Thrust. Slash.

  Adam’s eyes widened. His body reacted on instinct—he ducked the first, shifted sideways from the second, and met the final strike with a solid parry that rattled his arms.

  “His movements are clean. Minimal waste, no aggression unless he sees a gap... He’s reading me like a book. I need to break through. Fully. Decisively.”

  Adam lowered his stance. His core tensed, focus sharpening into a spearpoint. He dashed forward with a stabbing thrust, aiming straight for the swordsman’s chest.

  The swordsman met the charge head-on, blade flashing. He turned his sword slightly—redirected. Adam's thrust veered just enough to lose lethal momentum. In the same motion, the swordsman raised his blade high and brought it down in a heavy vertical slash, intent on cleaving Adam in two.

  But Adam didn’t resist the force.

  Instead, he flowed with it.

  Spinning his body, he let the momentum carry him into a full 360-degree turn, the blade grazing past his ribs by mere inches. The swordsman’s eyes widened—too late.

  As Adam came full circle, his blade sang out and sliced across the swordsman’s side, carving a deep gash into flesh.

  Blood sprayed. The wound was painful—but not fatal.

  Adam landed lightly on his feet, breathing hard, sword at the ready.

  For a moment after the clash, the room was silent.

  The low hum of Qi-powered lights overhead flickered, casting sharp shadows across the blood-speckled floor.

  Then—

  A wave of cheers and loud conversation erupted from the crowd.

  Tables were slapped, mugs raised, bets paid and lost.

  The onlookers, many of them seasoned fighters themselves, wore wide grins or shouted comments.

  "That spin was nasty!"

  "Didn't even see it coming!"

  "Poor old Jian, bet he didn't think he'd get schooled today!"

  The swordsman, still steady despite the blood trailing down his side, gave Adam a long, assessing look.

  Then he sheathed his sword with a soft click.

  "It was nice fighting you, kid," he said, offering a respectful nod.

  Adam nodded back silently, his gaze calm, no arrogance in his stance — only quiet acceptance.

  Without a word, he stepped forward, placing his right hand over the swordsman’s wound.

  A soft, faint white glow radiated from Adam’s palm as his healing ability activated, the wound closing gradually until not even a faint scar remained.

  The swordsman raised an eyebrow, surprised, but said nothing more — simply smiling slightly and patting Adam’s shoulder once in thanks.

  Adam did the same for the burly man from earlier, healing the puncture and bruises cleanly, though the man remained unconscious and snoring on the floor.

  With that, Adam turned back toward Shen Xinyi, who had been watching the entire spectacle with an amused glint in her eye.

  "Ready to leave?" she asked, already tossing a few spirit coins on their table to pay for the food they'd barely touched.

  Adam gave a small nod.

  "Yeah. Let's go."

  The two slipped out into the buzzing streets, neon signs flickering overhead and the warm scent of grilled meat filling the night air.

  Behind them, the Heavenly Brawl Pavilion roared on, already deep into the next chaotic fight.

  As they walked through the lively night streets, Shen Xinyi glanced sideways at Adam.

  The soft glow of the neon signs reflected off her eyes, but Adam's expression remained unreadable — calm, almost mechanical.

  After a moment, Adam spoke, his voice flat and even, without a ripple of emotion.

  "I am on a sect mission," he said. "I only stopped here to resupply."

  Shen Xinyi raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.

  Adam continued in the same detached tone, as if he were reading from a report.

  "I will be leaving to complete it immediately. Once it is done, I will return to the Grand Harmony Sect."

  Shen Xinyi slowed her pace for a second, studying his face.

  There was no hesitation, no weight behind his words — just pur

  e, clinical certainty.

  "...You're always so serious," she said lightly, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

  Adam gave no reaction.

  He simply adjusted the strap of the small supply bag slung over his shoulder and kept walking.

  The city lights blurred past them as two very different figures made their way through the concrete streets — one warm and lively, the other cold and silent like a blade in its sheath.