Chapter 7: Willing to Gamble, Willing to Lose

A satisfied smile played on Dustin Li's lips as he surveyed the black stone tablet. His second punch had left a mark deeper than most sixth-level body refinement practitioners could manage. To achieve this level of impact, one typically needed to be at the seventh level of body refinement.

This meant his strength had already surpassed expectations.

"Boy, what's the point of showing off your martial skills here? If you think you're so capable, test yourself properly," Gavin Zhoa scoffed, his face darkening. Dustin's display had clearly stolen his spotlight.

Dustin glanced at him with mild indifference. "And why should I listen to you?"

"Hmph, you won't? Then that proves you lack the ability," Gavin sneered. "If you're not up for it, don't embarrass yourself here."

"That's right!" someone in the crowd chimed in. "So what if he learned a powerful martial skill? It doesn't mean he's truly strong."

"Exactly! Some people get a little recognition and think they're invincible. It's disgusting."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered students, their gazes filled with contempt.

Dustin Li chuckled softly, shaking his head. The logic of the Martial Hall students never ceased to amuse him.

"What are you laughing at?" Gavin snapped.

"I'm laughing at you all—so arrogant, so full of yourselves," Dustin replied, his voice tinged with mockery. "You ridicule others because you fear being exposed for your own incompetence."

"Presumptuous!" Gavin's face darkened, and the surge of his sixth-level body refinement aura made the nearby students feel a wave of pressure.

Dustin met his glare without flinching. In response, his own inner energy pulsed outward.

"The fifth level of body refinement?" someone muttered in shock.

"Wasn't he at the fourth level just a month ago?"

"More than that! He jumped from the second level to the fourth in just a few days. Now he's already at the fifth?"

"I bet he's just showing off. Didn't he defeat two intermediate-class students at the library? Clearly, he doesn't respect us."

Dustin ignored them. He had come here to practice his Dragon-Tiger Fist, but these pests had soured his mood.

"Boy, you're getting ahead of yourself," Gavin sneered. "I heard that Jude Zhang wanted to teach you a lesson last time. If Mrs. Maeve hadn't stepped in, you'd be crippled by now."

He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with malice. "You think you're better than me? Let's make a bet."

Dustin raised a brow. "What kind of bet?"

"A simple one. Whoever leaves the deeper mark on the black stone tablet wins," Gavin smirked. "And the loser… kneels and admits defeat."

The crowd stirred, excitement flashing in their eyes.

"Yeah, if he's so confident, let him prove it!"

"If he loses, I want to see him actually bow his head!"

Dustin exhaled slowly. He had little interest in petty challenges, but he also knew refusing would only fuel their mockery. If he wanted them to shut up, he had to crush them completely.

"Fine," he said coolly.

Gavin was momentarily surprised before a smug grin spread across his face. This idiot actually agreed?

He laughed loudly. "You're dead, kid!"

Stepping forward, he channeled his inner energy. A faint glow surrounded his fist—a clear sign of advanced mastery.

"Radiant Fist!"

His punch struck the black stone tablet with a resounding boom, sending a ripple through the air. The impact left behind a distinct fist mark.

"Impressive!" someone gasped.

"I saw his fist glow! That means his attack reached the level of a seventh-stage body refinement expert!"

"He's close to breaking through, for sure!"

Gavin turned to Dustin, chest puffed out. "Your turn, loser. Get ready to kneel."

Dustin said nothing. Words were meaningless now.

He took a deep breath, centered his energy, and stepped forward.

"Tiger Form!"

With a low growl, his body moved like a prowling beast, and his fist shot forward with explosive force.

Boom!

Dust billowed around the impact site, obscuring the stone tablet for a moment.

As it cleared, gasps echoed through the crowd.

"What the—?!"

"The fist mark… it's a tiger's head!"

Stunned silence fell over the spectators.

"That's impossible! Only someone who's mastered Dragon-Tiger Fist can produce that effect!"

Gavin's face drained of color. His mark, once so proudly displayed, now looked shallow and insignificant next to Dustin's.

He staggered back. "No… this can't be…"

Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"This kid actually comprehended the essence of Tiger Form?"

"If he's mastered Tiger Form, has he also unlocked the Soaring Dragon Form?"

All eyes were on Dustin now—not with disdain, but awe.

Gavin's supporters looked at him with pity. The bet's outcome was undeniable.

"Brother Gavin, a bet is a bet," Dustin said, stepping closer. "Time to kneel."

Gavin's breathing turned ragged. If he kowtowed now, his reputation would be shattered. Even if he became an elite in the advanced class, this shame would follow him forever.

His fists clenched. "You're pushing too far!"

"You suggested the bet," Dustin reminded him, his voice like steel.

Gavin's allies scrambled for excuses.

"Dustin, you already won, just let it go."

"Yeah, we're all Martial Hall students. Do you really need to humiliate him?"

Dustin's gaze swept over them, cold and sharp. "Would you say the same if I had lost?"

The men flinched, but before they could answer—

"Die!"

Gavin lunged, his fists surging with inner energy, striking like twin serpents.

Dustin's eyes narrowed.

"Soaring Dragon Form!"

He twisted mid-air, arms extending like a coiling dragon. His counterattack was swift and merciless.

Boom!

Their fists clashed, sending shockwaves outward.

Gavin's body trembled. Agony exploded through his arms, and blood surged up his throat.

"Kneel."

Dustin's palm slammed into Gavin's forehead. His legs buckled, and with a loud thud, he collapsed onto his knees.

"Integrity," Dustin said coolly, pressing Gavin's head down. "If you're willing to gamble, be willing to lose."

A sickening crack echoed as Gavin's forehead struck the ground. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation.

A strangled cry tore from his throat before blood spewed from his lips.

Then—darkness.

Gavin Zhoa had lost.

And with that, Dustin Li turned away, leaving behind a stunned, silent crowd.