Chapter 00298: The Battle with Meng Shan
# The Battle with Meng Shan
Chapter 298
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 298: The Battle with Meng Shan
The moment his wooden sword struck solidly, he pressed one hand against Meng Shan's shoulder armor, using the rebound force to swiftly leap upward.
Meng Shan’s embrace grasped at empty air—he couldn’t help but roar in frustration.
He Lingchuan flipped backward, landing behind Meng Shan, and swung his blade again!
This time, his target was the unprotected back of Meng Shan’s neck—not covered by the leather armor.
Even without a sharp edge, striking such a vital spot could cause one’s vision to darken.
In the crowd, Sun Fuling furrowed her brow slightly, shaking her head gently.
Meng Shan ducked down in time to avoid the wooden sword.
Following his roar, his movements noticeably quickened by a beat.
His body seemed to shrink by an entire size, moving with a surprising agility that didn’t match his frame.
With a sudden pivot, his wolf-tooth club slammed directly into He Lingchuan’s torso—powerful and swift.
The wooden nails on the club suddenly glowed with a thick red light.
These weapons were made of plain white wood, without any special traits to speak of.
The sudden glow could only mean Meng Shan was using his true energy to execute his killing technique.
Caught midair with nowhere to dodge, He Lingchuan took the blow head-on and was sent flying three yards away!
He nearly fell off the arena platform.
Meng Shan moved like a shadow, astonishingly fast; just two steps brought him to He Lingchuan’s side again.
The crowd only saw multiple strikes from the club, unaware that within half a second he had fiercely hammered out three heavy blows in three different directions! Those leaning on the railing had their hair tousled by the club’s gust.
With no way to avoid, He Lingchuan poured all his strength into his arms, gripping his blade tightly to block.
Each block felt like he’d been struck by a giant hammer, sending numbness through his arms and cracking the skin at his tiger’s mouth.
What was even worse, with every strike Meng Shan’s energy increased, building up a raging momentum that threatened to overwhelm him completely.
He Lingchuan felt as if his whole body was locked down.
Meng Shan’s strength pressed in from all directions, pinning him in place, unable to move.
That was how the wild boar had fallen earlier.
When He Lingchuan challenged Meng Shan before, at least twice he had lost in this way.
Meng Shan’s three heavy strikes grew stronger with each one.
The last strike came from above, swinging straight down to the crown of the head—ferocious beyond comparison.
His stance resembled a pile-driver going all out.
Honestly, at this moment it didn’t matter whether Meng Shan wielded an iron or wooden club—the result was the same.
Whoever got hit would get a cracked skull.
Even the soldiers from Dafeng watched with chilled heads, calculating how they might face such blows.
But He Lingchuan dodged the third blow.
More precisely, he planted his hand on the ground and rolled, sliding past Meng Shan’s waist from the side.
It was as if he was pushed outward.
Xiao Maoliang let out a long “eh,” while Hu Min rubbed his eyes.
He Lingchuan’s movements were like a fish swimming in water—twisted angles yet supple and nimble.
He nearly used the strength from his waist and back to bounce away in one swift motion.
Despite the all-around, seemingly airtight pressure, he had found a small seam to slip through.
In the nick of time, he seized the chance.
Sun Fuling narrowed her eyes.
She caught He Lingchuan’s wooden sword stabbing like a needle at Meng Shan’s side waist.
But there was leather armor there, so the wooden sword couldn’t pierce through.
Then, with a crack, the weapon actually shattered!
The next moment, Meng Shan’s shield swept down toward He Lingchuan’s temple.
A gasp broke out from the crowd.
It looked as if He Lingchuan’s attempt to counterattack faltered—the weapon broke before he could even break through Meng Shan’s defense.
The skinny man let out a sharp “ah” and clenched his fist hard.
What was different from the previous fights between them? Everyone knew if this continued, Meng Shan would win again.
Though He Lingchuan’s footwork was agile and his strikes looked good, Meng Shan was not afraid of flexible opponents.
He only needed to meet skill with strength.
If He Lingchuan made even one mistake, there would be no turning back.
Who doesn’t make mistakes? Time was on Meng Shan’s side.
Fortunately, He Lingchuan wasn’t distracted nor addicted to fighting.
Grasping the broken wooden sword handle, he escaped the shield strike by a hair’s breadth, rolling out five feet away.
Meng Shan’s shield smashed the empty air.
A wooden sword taking three heavy blows, no matter how well made, reached its limit.
He Lingchuan saw the visible cracks on the blade’s face, felt its frailty, and knew he had to desperately avoid Meng Shan’s crushing overhead strike.
A warrior must have a clear judgment of their weapon’s condition.
After missing, Meng Shan stomped hard, lunged forward, and swung his club in a sweeping horizontal strike.
The arena floor trembled like in an eight or nine magnitude earthquake.
Xiao Maoliang and the Dafeng soldiers watching felt the weight of that move deeply.
In their battle six months ago at Yanhe Valley, Meng Shan had knocked down many fighters just like that.
Now, his timing was perfect — He Lingchuan had just gotten up and his footing was unsteady.
If he fell, he wouldn’t be able to block the next sweep.
The long club sliced over two yards with a sharp “whoosh,” exuding a strong sense of pressure.
Though invisible and formless, getting hit by that would have terrible consequences.
This single move was enough for Meng Shan to be regarded as a great general.
This showed that the progress in the last half year wasn’t just by He Lingchuan alone.
The experts in the crowd burst into cheers.
But He Lingchuan saw Meng Shan raise his knee and knew exactly what he intended.
When the big foot stomped onto the arena, He Lingchuan used one hand to push off the ground and jumped backward, narrowly avoiding the stomp’s damage and landing behind a weapon rack.
The rack was firmly nailed to the edge of the arena, taking the full brunt of the club’s sweep.
With a crash and clatter, it broke into two, weapons crashing in chaos.
He Lingchuan casually grabbed a few wooden throwing knives and aimed them at Meng Shan's eyes and throat, flinging them fiercely.
Meng Shan raised his shield in front and charged—every throwing knife struck the shield.
They were only about two yards apart.
Taller and longer-legged, Meng Shan closed the distance in two steps.
He Lingchuan grabbed a wooden long sword again, engaging him directly.
In an instant, they exchanged over ten moves.
Hu Min watched attentively. “Broken Blade, not bad.”
Facing such an opponent who dominated the battlefield with raw strength, He Lingchuan always dodged at the last moment, even at times blocking head-on.
He knew Meng Shan’s offensive patterns inside and out, which made him even more at ease.
One was fierce and powerful, the other flexible.
This fight was truly entertaining.
The surrounding soldiers and civilians applauded repeatedly, feeling thoroughly satisfied with the excitement.
Yet the two fighters had already entered a state of complete focus, deaf to the world outside—only life or death mattered.
Xiao Maoliang suddenly said, “Meng Shan is slowing down.”
From the seventh ring outside the arena, the scene wasn’t clear, but those with keen eyes could see Meng Shan’s attacks had slowed—the turning, the strikes, even the steps between offense and dodge were at least half a beat slower than before.
As speed dropped, the deep, overwhelming pressure he gave off lessened by at least half.
Looking at Meng Shan, his facial muscles twisted and the veins on his temples throbbed incessantly.
Sun Fuling suddenly spoke softly, “Meng Shan’s internal injuries are severe.”
Only Commander Xiao heard her voice and furrowed his brow.
Had He Lingchuan’s earlier attacks begun to take effect?
Meng Shan was indeed injured.
Every time he turned, the spot on his side where the wooden sword had struck ached sharply; each breath felt like a knife stabbed his diaphragm, making it hard to inhale.
Though the two earlier strikes seemed unable to break his defense, true energy had poured through like a raging storm, refusing to dissipate.
No one else could tell, but Meng Shan himself could feel his liver, gallbladder, and lungs were badly hurt.
Several times his vision darkened and he fought the urge to vomit.
No, this had to end quickly!
Long dominant in the arena, playing like a cat tormenting a mouse in defeating opponents, Meng Shan finally found the fight too long.
His eyes shifted, he purposely staggered forward, exposing a huge opening in his chest.
Such a chance was rare; the opponent would never miss it.
He Lingchuan’s blade tip twisted and thrust straight for his throat.
Meng Shan clenched his teeth despite the sharp pain.
He inflated his chest and abdomen, and let out a roar straight at his enemy!
That roar was like a lion’s thunder in the ear, chilling to the bone.
With his back still to the outer side, several civilians at the arena’s edge dropped instantly, unconscious.
He Lingchuan faced the powerful sonic attack head-on, but the boom was ten times louder than thunder in the sky, even pushing him backward!
Meng Shan used every last ounce of strength in his howl, spitting blood from his lungs.
Seizing the opportunity, his right hand swept the big club and finally struck He Lingchuan!
However, as He Lingchuan was hit and sent flying, his long sword slipped free of his grip.
Meng Shan leaned back, avoiding the blade’s tip.
Still, the sword’s tip carried a foot-long invisible force that accurately struck his Adam’s apple!
Gasps rose from the crowd.
He Lingchuan was knocked back a yard, rolling twice on the ground.
He spat a mouthful of blood, tried to rise twice but failed.
Opposite him, Meng Shan stood motionless.
The wooden sword slid off the ground, rolling half a circle.
Sun Fuling quietly said, “It’s over.”
The arena froze for seconds before Meng Shan suddenly coughed up blood uncontrollably.
The blood sprayed like a fountain, and he collapsed like a golden mountain falling—a great pillar hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
His insides felt twisted; it was like two blades of ice and fire scraped him alternately.
His mind swirled in dizziness as he saw multiple afterimages of He Lingchuan rushing toward him.
The crowd howled in shock.
Most didn’t see clearly what had happened.
They only knew He Lingchuan had been smashed and sent flying by Meng Shan’s club, yet Meng Shan seemed more seriously injured, unable even to stand.
It was baffling.
He Lingchuan took two quick steps to Meng Shan’s side and gently pressed a fingertip against his temple.
That light touch was enough to topple Meng Shan completely.
Silence blanketed the seventh-ring arena, eyes wide in disbelief.
They naturally didn’t realize Meng Shan, already struggling from two earlier strikes, was fighting with mounting internal injuries.
The damage held within burst with the impact from He Lingchuan’s third strike!
This was a cycle of repeated blows.
In contrast, He Lingchuan suffered only slight external injuries throughout.
Really, time was on his side.
He Lingchuan pressed his left arm and shouted toward the courtyard, “Someone, bring aid! He needs medical help!”
A Luo hurried onto the arena carrying a medicine box, ordering two soldiers to flip Meng Shan over.
They saw blood flowing from all seven orifices of his body, eyes glazed.
At last, the crowd’s passion exploded, applause and cheers roaring like a tide.
A Luo busied himself, asking, “How did you injure him like this? What happened just now? I didn’t see clearly.”
He Lingchuan grinned, “I just got lucky.”
“Aren’t your shoulder injuries bad too? Let me treat them!” Because he was one of their own, A Luo’s heart favored He Lingchuan from the start.
As for Meng Shan? He could wait.
(End of chapter)