Heaven's Only Men Cultivator

Chapter 8 - Striking the Iron Rose

The iron gate clattered shut behind Li Feng, the sound echoing like a guillotine blade hitting the block. The sand beneath his feet was coarse, stained a dark, rusted crimson by years of spilled blood. Above the pit, hundreds of mercenary women leaned over the railings, their jeers and whistles forming a deafening wall of sound.

"Kill him, Captain! Break the little bird's wings!"

"Ten silver on the boy hitting the sand in ten seconds!"

Li Feng ignored them. He looked across the arena at Captain Zhao. She was unbuckling her silver vambraces, tossing them to the side with a nonchalant clang. She didn't draw her broadsword. Instead, she began wrapping her knuckles in thick, black leather strips.

"Strip to the waist," Zhao commanded, her amber eyes never leaving his.

"What?" Li Feng blinked, his hand clutching the collar of his tattered tunic.

"You heard me," she said, her voice a low rumble that carried over the crowd's noise. "I want to see how you move. I want to see if that glow comes from your heart or just some parlor trick hidden in your rags. Do it, or I'll rip the clothes off you myself."

Li Feng felt Ying Yue's frantic gaze from the sidelines. He hesitated, then pulled the thin fabric over his head. A collective gasp rippled through the gallery.

He wasn't the scrawny, malnourished slave he had been a week ago. The Ancient Yang Core had rewritten his biology. His skin was smooth, bronze-toned, and stretched over lean, explosive muscles that seemed to hum with a restless, hidden vitality. The faint, golden bruising on his ribs—the mark of the Core's awakening—pulsed with a dim light.

"Not bad for a stray," Zhao remarked, stepping into the center of the pit. She fell into a low, predatory stance. "Round one. Physical only. If I see a single spark of Qi, you lose. Ready?"

'Do not flare,' the Ancient Soul warned in his mind. 'Your body is the weapon now. Let the sun stay beneath the horizon.'

"Ready," Li Feng whispered.

Zhao moved. She was a blur of crimson and silver. Before Li Feng could even raise his hands, her fist was inches from his jaw.

His vision suddenly snapped into a strange, heightened clarity. The world didn't slow down, but his perception of it sharpened. He saw the ripple of Zhao's muscles under her leather armor. He saw the slight shift in her weight. He pivoted, the move instinctive and fluid, letting the punch whistle past his ear.

"Ha!" Zhao barked, spinning on her heel to deliver a brutal roundhouse kick toward his ribs.

Li Feng dropped low, the sand spraying as he slid beneath the strike. He came up behind her, his hand reaching out to grab her shoulder, but she was already moving, elbowing back with enough force to shatter stone. He caught the elbow in his palm.

The impact felt like being hit by a galloping horse. A jolt of vibration ran up his arm, but his bones didn't crack. They felt... reinforced. Like tempered steel.

"You're fast," Zhao said, pulling back and circling him. "Too fast for a man with no training. Where did you learn to move like a shadow?"

"I've spent nineteen years dodging whips, Captain," Li Feng replied, his breath steady. "You learn to move, or you die."

"Fair point," she grinned. "Let's see how you handle Round Two."

She lunged again, but this time, her strikes were a relentless barrage. Left, right, hook, knee. Li Feng was forced into a desperate dance of evasion. He wasn't just dodging anymore; he was absorbing the rhythm of her combat. Every time her fist brushed his skin, the Yang Core in his chest flared with a dull heat, feeding strength directly into his limbs.

'I feel... lighter,' he realized. 'Like the gravity of the world doesn't apply to me.'

"Fight back, damn you!" Zhao roared, frustrated by his silence. She launched a devastating front kick aimed at his solar plexus.

Li Feng didn't dodge this time. He stepped into the strike, his forearms crossing to take the blow. The force sent him skidding back ten feet, his heels carving deep trenches in the sand. He came to a halt at the edge of the pit, his chest heaving, but he was smiling.

"Is that all?" he asked.

The crowd went silent. Ying Yue was clutching the iron bars so hard her knuckles were white. "Feng, stop provoking her!" she screamed.

Zhao’s eyes narrowed. A faint, crimson aura began to bleed from her pores. She was starting to use her Yin Qi to reinforce her physical strength. "You want more? Fine. Round Three. Try to stay standing, little sun."

She vanished.

Li Feng didn't use his eyes. He felt the heat of her displacement. He ducked a decapitating clothesline, then caught her wrist as she tried to follow up with a palm strike. He twisted, using her own momentum to flip her, but she landed on her feet like a cat.

They clashed in the center of the pit. It was a blur of skin hitting skin. Zhao was a veteran of a thousand wars, her technique flawless, her power overwhelming. But Li Feng was an anomaly. His body was evolving with every second. His reflexes were surpassing the limits of human biology.

He saw an opening. Zhao leaned too far into a lunging punch.

Li Feng stepped in, his palm striking her shoulder. He didn't use Qi, but he let a fraction of the Core’s physical heat bleed into the touch.

BOOM.

It wasn't an explosion of light, but a shockwave of pure kinetic force. Zhao was sent flying backward, her boots skidding across the sand until she hit the stone wall of the pit with a sickening thud.

The silence that followed was absolute. The mercenaries above looked on with dropped jaws. No man had ever laid a hand on Captain Zhao, let alone sent her flying.

Li Feng stood in the center, his skin shimmering with a light sweat that looked like liquid gold in the torchlight. He didn't feel tired. He felt... awake.

Zhao slumped against the wall, her head bowed. Then, she began to laugh. A low, raspy sound that grew into a full-throated roar. She pushed herself up, wiping a smear of blood from her lip.

"Captain?" the registrar called out nervously from the balcony. "Should we... should we call the guards?"

"For what?" Zhao asked, standing tall. She walked toward Li Feng, her gaze intense. There was no anger in her eyes. There was something else. A burning, predatory curiosity. "The three rounds are over. He’s still standing."

She stopped inches from him. She was taller than him, a mountain of scarred muscle and authority. She reached out, her fingers brushing the bare skin of his shoulder. Li Feng flinched, but she didn't strike. Her hand was warm, and he could feel her heart racing.

"You're a miracle, aren't you?" she whispered, her voice meant only for him. "Or a curse. I haven't decided yet."

"The ID," Li Feng said, his voice raspy. "Do I get the papers?"

"Papers?" Zhao laughed, turning to the crowd. She grabbed Li Feng’s arm and hoisted it high into the air. "Listen up, you lot! The boy stays!"

"Captain?" Ying Yue stepped toward the gate, her face a mask of confusion and dread. "What does that mean?"

Zhao looked at Ying Yue, then back at Li Feng. A sharp, triumphant grin spread across her face. "It means he doesn't need a bodyguard ID. He’s not a traveler anymore. As of this moment, this man belongs to the Iron Rose elite unit. He’s my personal ward."

"You can't do that!" Ying Yue protested, her hand flying to her sword. "He’s my—"

"He’s an unregistered male with undocumented power in a city I control," Zhao interrupted, her voice turning to steel. "I can execute him for the crystal he broke, or I can claim him. I’ve chosen to claim him. If you have a problem with that, Disciple Yue, you can take it up with the City Council."

Li Feng looked at Zhao, then at Ying Yue. He had survived the pit, but the cage had only gotten smaller. He felt the mark on his chest thrumming—a warning.

"I'm not a prize to be claimed," Li Feng said, his voice low.

Zhao leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "In this city, boy, you're either a prize or a corpse. Stay with me, and I'll teach you how to be a king. Stay with her, and you'll be a memory by dawn."

She pulled away, signaling the guards to open the gate. "Get him some proper clothes. And find him a room in my private quarters. I want a full report on his 'blood condition' by morning."

As Zhao walked away, she didn't look back, but Li Feng saw the way her hand trembled slightly. He looked up at the sky, visible through the iron grating of the guild’s roof. The moon was high, cold and indifferent.

But deep in his chest, the sun was beginning to roar.

"Feng," Ying Yue whispered from across the sand, her eyes filled with a desperate, fractured light. "What have we done?"

Before he could answer, the heavy doors at the top of the gallery burst open. A woman in blinding white robes, carrying a staff that dripped with moonlight, stepped into the light.

"By order of the Holy Light," the woman’s voice echoed through the hall, "all registrations are suspended. We are looking for an anomaly."

Li Feng’s heart froze. The Saintesses had arrived.

***