Martial Peak Chapter 3 – 147 Losses

Many lives are lost every year during the internal conflicts between the disciples of Sky Tower. Witnessing his opponent’s unwavering bravery and lack of fear, Zhou Ding Jun felt a flicker of apprehension.

Realizing he lacked such extreme resolve, Zhou Ding Jun knew he would have been the one to surrender had their positions been reversed.

Maintaining one's composure ensures that the heat of battle cannot burn you. Such is the path of life—to remain steadfast in one's choices. This is the essence of perseverance!

Even though Kai Yang looked pathetic and beaten, the light in his eyes grew increasingly intense. Zhou Ding Jun understood that if he didn't conclude the fight immediately, it would never end.

With that thought, Zhou Ding Jun lunged forward, aiming a palm knife strike at Kai Yang’s neck. Though Kai Yang attempted to evade with a fierce aura, his vision blurred and his body finally went limp, collapsing to the earth.

Watching this from several dozen feet above, a disciple perched upon a tree limb produced a small ledger. Flipping through the pages, she recorded: Trial Disciple Kai Yang versus Ordinary Disciple Zhou Ding Jun; victory goes to Zhou Ding Jun.

The figure atop the branch possessed a lithe and graceful form, clearly revealing her as a woman. A black mask obscured her features, yet the delicate curve of her eyebrows suggested she was quite young. The band upon her arm signaled her prestigious status: a disciple of the Sky Tower Dark Hall!

The Dark Hall of Sky Tower is a unique department governed by the sect’s three primary Elders. Its members are tasked with documenting every occurrence within the school, regardless of significance. This includes the outcomes of every duel between disciples.

Consequently, no one in the sect needs to worry about proving their victories or claiming their contribution points. In the shadows, the Dark Hall disciples silently log every encounter, compiling a summary of records each month.

After noting the result of the current fight, the woman pulled a smaller notebook from her waist. She turned to the entry for the 14th year, May 7th, marking it as Kai Yang’s 147th defeat.

Even disregarding this latest entry, the pages were filled with Kai Yang’s combat history. From his very first duel to the present, every single result was the same: Defeat!

Losing one hundred and forty-seven consecutive battles was a feat unheard of in the sect's history—a record both unique and strangely impressive. However, the holder of this record currently lay motionless on the ground, his state of life uncertain.

Kai Yang never initiated challenges; thus, all 147 losses came from others seeking him out. For two years, he had been challenged roughly once every five days.

Looking down at the fallen Kai Yang, the woman’s brow furrowed. She couldn't comprehend how he could endure such a life. Having been demoted to a mere trial disciple, his very survival was at risk. Why did he persist? Life would surely be easier if he simply departed. What kind of obsession fueled this frail boy? Despite 147 straight losses, his spirit remained unbroken.

Perhaps this was merely a man's stubbornness? Her interest in Kai Yang had begun by chance. When Xia Ning Chang joined the Dark Hall, she was assigned to monitor this specific sector. She had witnessed Kai Yang being beaten to the brink of death time and time again. Gradually, Xia Ning Chang began to take notice of this youth at the third stage of the Tempered Body boundary.

She was genuinely curious to see how much longer he could last before fleeing Sky Tower. With such meager talent and slow Cultivation speed, he was ill-suited for this place. The mundane world was where he belonged.

The crowd below had long since dispersed, leaving only Kai Yang behind. As time ticked away, the area grew silent.

With a sudden blur, Xia Ning Chang vanished from the tree branch.

It was already three o'clock when Kai Yang finally regained consciousness. Every inch of his frame throbbed with agony. He staggered to his feet and looked around, only to be struck by confusion. He had woken up in the cool shade of a tree, far from the spot where he had passed out.

This was baffling. Had a fellow disciple actually been kind enough to move him? Such a thing was unprecedented, causing Kai Yang to frown. He had a faint, hazy memory of a flickering shadow before him, but the more he tried to grasp it, the more it eluded him.

However, between his current spot and where he had fallen, there were obvious drag marks on the ground, proving he had been hauled across the dirt.

As he reached back to touch his spine, a sharp, searing pain erupted.

Kai Yang stiffened, his temper rising! The small spark of gratitude he felt for his "savior" vanished instantly. That person had dragged him like a sack of grain; otherwise, his back wouldn't be bleeding so profusely.

He would have been better off left where he fell! Kai Yang grumbled to himself.

In his frustration, Kai Yang realized his right hand was gripping something. Looking down, he was stunned to see a small, exquisitely crafted porcelain bottle in his palm.

What was this? It certainly didn't belong to him; his only possessions were the rags on his back and his broom. How did he end up with this?

The small bottle bore a label. Reading it aloud, Kai Yang whispered, “Blood Clotting Cream.”

Kai Yang was well aware of this medicine.

It was the sect’s standard ointment for healing wounds. While common, its efficacy was excellent. Most disciples kept a bottle for emergencies, but in the Sky Tower logistics office, it was quite costly.

One bottle cost ten contribution points!

How much did Kai Yang earn for a full month of sweeping the grounds? Exactly ten points. In other words, this single bottle was worth an entire month of his labor.

Who could it have been? His resentment toward the unknown person faded significantly, though the pain flared again when he moved. He had been at the Tower for three years now. In that time, he had grown accustomed to the cold indifference of his peers. To have someone leave behind a bottle of Blood Clotting Cream moved him deeply.

He had truly begun to believe that everyone in the sect was heartless.

While the cream might be trivial to others, it was something Kai Yang desperately required right now.

As the saying goes, a drop of kindness received in a time of need is a debt of grace to be remembered until one's teeth fall out!

Grateful, Kai Yang tried to recall any detail about his benefactor. The memory remained elusive, save for a lingering, faint trace of fragrance in the air.

“Is this medicine really that aromatic?” Kai Yang wondered.

Steeling himself, he straightened his tattered robes and carefully stowed the bottle away. Kai Yang picked up his broom once more and returned to his duties.

He finished sweeping every corner of the grounds by midnight. Dragging his exhausted, famished body, he finally made his way back to his small hut.

The wounds from the morning remained untended. Despite his hunger, he prioritized his recovery. Injuries first, food later.

Stripping off his clothes, he hauled a tub of water to wash. If anyone were to see Kai Yang’s naked form, they would gasp in horror.

His ribs and bones protruded sharply from his skin. His frame was gaunt, lacking any significant muscle or nourishment. Bruises and old scars covered him from head to toe; there was hardly a patch of skin left unmarred.

Every five days he was beaten, and every time he was knocked out. New wounds were constantly piled atop those that hadn't yet healed. Any other person would have broken under such suffering, yet Kai Yang endured. Not only did he survive, but he never let his injuries stop him from his daily toil.