Chapter 315: Others Strive to Cross, I Break Through
Two flying swords broke through the wall one after another, heavily wounding the Flower-Pinned Scholar just as he had finished retrieving all his prayer beads.
Then Lu Fang, who had seized the initiative and held the upper hand, was beaten back to this street, punch by punch. The final punch even drove Lu Fang deep into the wall.
Finally, Zhong Qiu, the National Preceptor of Nanyuan Kingdom, arrived to finish the game.
Zhong Qiu, acclaimed as the Foremost Hand of the world, struck a single punch that drove back the young man, saving the defenseless Lu Fang.
Feng Qingbai took the opportunity to reclaim his own sword. Not only that, but he had also tried to find a chance to return the Big Spring Sword to Lu Fang. However, Zhong Qiu's sudden appearance made Feng Qingbai abandon that idea, lest he add superfluous details.
Feng Qingbai let out a long breath. If Zhong Qiu's punch had landed on his temple, he figured he would have to rely on his sect to spend money to save him. Otherwise, he could only reincarnate again and again within the Lotus Paradise. The very foundation of a cultivator would be constantly eroded and melted, merging into this world. "Heaven and earth are a furnace, and all things are copper"—that was the principle at play.
And that person's attendant boy was the one in charge of fanning the flames.
That person never showed himself, unwilling to meet with the world. Only a small Daoist boy holding a banana-leaf fan was responsible for the overall operation of the entire Lotus Paradise. Of course, he also dealt with the earthly immortals of Parasol Leaf Continent who were qualified to know the inside story of the blessed land. Before Feng Qingbai descended, under the guidance of his sect's patriarch, he had met that boy. Even the founding patriarch at the Jade Pupil realm had to treat that sharp-tongued little fellow with generational courtesy.
Since arriving at the Lotus Paradise, in just a short ten-plus years, it already felt like a lifetime.
By some subtle intuition, Feng Qingbai had a feeling that this trip to hone the heart of his great Dao sword had probably come to an end. With good luck, at best he might obtain a top-tier immortal artifact of the magic treasure grade.
After all, his combat power was still intact, whereas Lu Fang's story had already ended, and it was likely that even his Dao heart would be damaged. Returning to Parasol Leaf Continent would still be a major trouble.
Banished immortals—banished immortals—it sounded wonderful, but in reality, it wasn't. Only those like Zhou Fei, who advocated "If life doesn't enjoy blessings, how is it different from grass, wood, or beasts?" came down without touching the foundations of cultivation, and thus were naturally relaxed and carefree.
But people like him, Feng Qingbai, and Lu Fang faced extreme danger. The senior Tong Qingqing, even though she had already become the leader of Mirror Heart Studio and was one of the Four Great Grandmasters of the world, still had to hide and evade for decades and had yet to show her face. That was a perfect example.
Collecting his scattered thoughts, Feng Qingbai began to review the whole battle, trying to glean as many insights as possible.
He had been watching this peak-level fight from afar. "Stones from other hills may serve to polish the jade of this one"—this was a way to borrow the state of mind on the path of cultivation, similar in essence to the Buddhist method of visualization.
In Feng Qingbai's eyes, the peak battle in the Lotus Paradise was actually not inferior to the golden core and nascent soul fights on Parasol Leaf Continent.
The fight between the white-robed young man and Lu Fang was already so brilliant. If the ultimate aces of the righteous and evil sides, Ding Ying and Yu Zhenyi, were to make their moves, what kind of spectacle would that be?
Feng Qingbai had not thought highly of Chen Ping'an at first, because Lu Fang, as expected of a sword immortal prodigy who had made a name on Parasol Leaf Continent, had managed to swim against the current under heavy suppression. In the thin spiritual energy of the Lotus Paradise, he had found a new path and once again touched the threshold of the sword Dao. Lu Fang's sword was effective both at long range and close quarters.
But the result was unexpected.
The masterstroke that broke the game was that young man seeing that Lu Fang would definitely save Zhou Shi.
According to rumors in the martial world, Lu Fang and Zhou Fei were irreconcilable mortal enemies. Lu Fang had once climbed a mountain with his sword and had a life-and-death battle with Lu Fang at Spring Tide Palace. That couldn't be faked.
Feng Qingbai had been in the Lotus Paradise for over ten years, while that young man had only just arrived. Logically, he should have been more unfamiliar with the peak scenery of this world. Feng Qingbai really couldn't figure it out. In a fight, the spectator should see clearly while the participants are confused. Could it be that the young man had not only descended with his complete body and soul but was also well-versed in many insider secrets? And because of that, he had violated the rules, causing the Heavenly Dao here to regard him as a rebel that must be suppressed and eliminated?
Although his injury was severe—his entire shoulder was shattered—luckily it was only an external wound. Zhou Shi used the healing elixir from Spring Tide Palace, which Zhou Fei had concocted, to barely stop the bleeding. He leaned against the wall base, side by side with Crow Girl, smiling bitterly. "I've done my best."
The dashing Flower-Pinned Scholar had made countless beautiful maidens blush with shyness. But now there was no elegance, only desolation.
Crow Girl was struggling to suppress her chaotic energy with a secret technique of the demon sect, a martial treasure from one of the three demon sects, Drooping Flower Sect. It had the effect of making withered trees bloom. It was said that a certain leader of Drooping Flower Sect had seduced the saintess of Mirror Heart Studio of that generation, allowing him to steal a glimpse of half of the "Return to Simplicity True Scripture." That scripture could make people return to youth. The Drooping Flower Sect leader was a peerless genius; he reverse-engineered the scripture and adapted it for his own use, compiling this demon sect secret codex. But it had huge side effects. Those who used it could forcibly suppress severe injuries, but they would rapidly age, hastening the decay of their physical bodies. Throughout the generations, the heroes of Drooping Flower Sect only used this method in last-resort, life-and-death battles.
Crow Girl's face was livid, and traces of white frost appeared at her temples.
Zhou Shi sighed. If someone handed her a bronze mirror right now, would Crow Girl, who was most proud of her appearance, go directly into qi deviation?
Zhou Shi didn't know if he was comforting her or himself. "Don't worry, my father will arrive soon. When I'm safe, you won't die either."
At the base of a wall in the distance, a damaged pipa lay alone on the ground. Its owner had disappeared. Every few yards along the road, there were drops of blood.
When Chen Ping'an stood up, Feng Qingbai, who was holding his long sword; Zhou Shi, who was sitting slumped on the ground; and Smiling Face, who had gone to check on Lu Fang's injuries, all tensed.
Lu Fang "pulled" himself out of the wall and landed lightly, unsteady on his feet. Smiling Face wanted to help, but Lu Fang shook his head. Reaching out, he summoned the Big Spring Sword back. As it flew, the scabbard and blade joined together. He used the sword as a staff. The profound cultivation that had made Lu Fang virtually invincible in the Lotus Paradise was now at rock bottom. The ten punches of the Divine Being Drums Style, relentless and continuous, had nearly shattered the soul of Lu Fang, whose body was not exceptionally robust.
Lu Fang's eyes were dim. He turned to Smiling Face, whose real name was Qiantang, and said, "Let me rest a bit. You come with me for a drink."
Smiling Face nodded gloomily.
Once again, at their first meeting in the martial world, he was a man lost in disappointment.
This time, Lu Fang had chosen to make the first move, partly to protect Zhou Shi, but more for him—Qiantang. Smiling Face was not among the twenty top martial artists in the world. Before coming to the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom, Lu Fang had said he would take Qiantang to see his hometown, to meet a true flying immortal. At the time, Lu Fang's words were plain, but the unique, soaring spirit of the Sword Immortal from Bird's Peak was something even a blind man could feel.
The two left the street together.
Before leaving, Lu Fang cupped his hands to Zhong Qiu in thanks. Then he said to Zhou Shi, "Take care of yourself."
At the tavern run by the shrewish woman, the woman saw the man who had stolen the sword and, despite his muscular build, started cursing. After much cajoling, Lu Fang managed to get two jugs of the cheapest wine and slammed them on the table. Qiantang could barely stop himself from slapping the long-tongued woman to death.
Lu Fang took out an ancient, unadorned small flute from his bosom and handed it to Smiling Face. He said gravely, "For the next twenty years, I may need you to do two difficult things. First, carry this item with you and find my reincarnated self. When you get close to me, the small flute will become scorching hot, and you'll feel a resonance. Second, seek out a long sword named 'Chaoyuan.' Don't force this one; it might end up like the Big Spring Sword, becoming someone else's sword."
Smiling Face looked shocked.
"I've made up my mind."
Lu Fang didn't explain more. "Take the small flute. Have this drink and leave Nanyuan Kingdom quickly. Staying here will only make me die faster."
Smiling Face had never seen Lu Fang so solemn. He carefully put away the small flute and nodded in agreement.
After drinking in silence, Smiling Face looked at his close friend. Lu Fang only said calmly, "If you really do find me, don't do anything. Especially, don't deliberately teach me martial arts."
"I'll remember."
Smiling Face no longer smiled; his voice was choked with tears.
But Lu Fang had no time for melancholy. Silently, he saw Smiling Face out of the tavern. Then Lu Fang turned to look in one direction and sneered, "You can show yourself now. If you want my head as a banished immortal, come and take it by ability."
From around the corner emerged a hunched, ancient-looking old man, coughing as he walked. If Smiling Face Qiantang were still with Lu Fang, he would have recognized this old man, who seemed about to collapse in the wind. This was Xue Yuan, the Eight-Armed Deity from the previous generation's top ten. Twenty years ago, he had been ousted from the top ten, and his power had been waning ever since, now only scraping the bottom of the new top ten. He had once been toyed with by Smiling Face's movement techniques for a whole year, becoming a laughingstock in the martial world.
Lu Fang sighed inwardly.
He hadn't expected a prophecy made at Bull Sleeping Ridge to come true.
Back then, Yu Zhenyi had secretly gathered heroes, specifically calling for the siege of four banished immortals: Ding Ying, Zhou Fei, Tong Qingqing, and Feng Qingbai. Lu Fang had joked whether he counted. Now, the answer was clear. It might not have been Yu Zhenyi's original intention, but seeing Lu Fang gravely wounded and defeated, Yu Zhenyi's cold nature wouldn't miss this golden opportunity.
"The Sword Immortal of Bird's Peak has fallen to such a state. It's truly pitiful. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it."
Xue Yuan grinned, mocking Lu Fang. The old man was missing several teeth as he slowly walked toward the tavern. It was hard to imagine that this was the world's foremost external martial arts master before Zhong Qiu.
Lu Fang laughed. "Yu Zhenyi is quite generous, willing to let you come and claim the kill."
Xue Yuan bent over, stopping twenty paces from the tavern entrance. "Master Yu is an immortal of this age, not a mortal like me. He wouldn't covet such an opportunity. Besides, the Great Sword Immortal Lu still has three or four tenths of his strength left. Dealing with an old, declining Xue Yuan might still be in your favor."
Lu Fang sneered, "Great Sword Immortal? Have you ever seen one? Are you worthy?"
Xue Yuan still chuckled. "Not worthy, not worthy. Whatever you say, Great Sword Immortal."
Lu Fang's eyes were full of mockery.
Xue Yuan met Lu Fang's gaze and shook his head. As the Eight-Armed Deity straightened his back, like a dragon raising its head, his aura underwent a complete transformation. This was the grandmaster bearing of someone who had once been among the top ten. Xue Yuan's face turned dark and terrifying. He exploded in anger, his words full of accumulated resentment and fury. "You banished immortals, high and mighty—you all deserve to die! Yes, that exact look in your eyes now, Lu Fang. Even when a phoenix loses its feathers and is worse than a chicken, you still look at everyone in the world like that, still like ants!"
Lu Fang said nothing.
But he knew this would be the last battle of his life, and it would not be satisfying. The fight with that young man was like this, and now fighting Xue Yuan, who was taking advantage of his weakness, was even more frustrating.
Just then, Xue Yuan, who had just shed his disguise and seemed like a god descending, suddenly stiffened. Someone had grabbed him by the neck from behind and was slowly lifting him up.
Xue Yuan was like a snake struck at its vital spot. He couldn't even struggle. His feet left the ground, rising higher and higher.
The sneak attacker's voice was warm and mellow, smiling. "So what if we look at you like ants? There's nothing wrong with that. You are, after all."
*Crack.* Xue Yuan's neck was broken, and the man tossed him lightly to the side of the street.
The tavern woman shrieked. Patrons shouted, "Murder! Murder!" and scattered like birds and beasts.
With Xue Yuan gone, the man was revealed to be a dandy young master—Zhou Fei, who had just come from the Diamond Temple.
In Zhou Fei's hand was a head with unseeing eyes. He threw it forward, landing it in front of Lu Fang. The head rolled, dripping with blood.
It was Qiantang—Smiling Face.
Zhou Fei casually tossed out the small flute as well.
Lu Fang slowly crouched down, gently wiped the face of the head, closing his friend's eyes. He stared blankly at Smiling Face. He didn't look at Zhou Fei, nor did he pick up the small flute. He just asked, voice trembling, "Why?"
Zhou Fei was silent for a moment, then answered irrelevantly, "When did Lu Fang become such a hesitant waste? You came here to break through the heart of emotion, but in the end, you saw through it without being able to truly transcend. Fine, even if that fails, at most you'd return empty-handed. But then you can't let go of a dead man's head, someone no better than a stranger. You can't take it, can't put it down. Lu Fang, even if you return to Parasol Leaf Continent, forget about reaching the upper five realms—I doubt you'll even stay in the nascent soul realm!"
Zhou Fei crouched down. "Tell me yourself, what did you come for? And I, the dignified patriarch of the Jiang clan of the Jade Gui Sect, wasted all these years with you in this Lotus Paradise—what did I come for?"
At some point, the Big Spring Sword lay quietly at Lu Fang's feet. Along with a small flute and a head, they all lay on the street.
Far behind Zhou Fei stood all those breathtakingly beautiful women. Some were slender like willow branches; others were voluptuous like ripe autumn grains.
Lu Fang raised his head. "Why didn't you go to Zhou Shi first?"
Zhou Fei laughed angrily. "If my son dies, I can have another. But if you die in the Lotus Paradise, am I supposed to waste another sixty years?"
Zhou Fei stood up and beckoned a still-charming woman to his side. "Go, keep your most admired and revered Senior Brother Lu company for a drink. You haven't seen each other for so many years—you must have a lot to talk about."
The woman's face turned pale.
Zhou Fei patted her cheek. "Be good. Obey."
The ground shook, and Zhou Fei's figure vanished.
Those women took off like birds in flight, their robes fluttering, streamers trailing across the sky. This enchanting scene captivated passersby on the nearby streets.
Lu Fang stood up. Looking at the woman, whose face was both familiar and strange, he said, "Sit and talk?"
The woman, trembling, nodded.
The two sat opposite each other. The tavern mistress hid behind the counter, crouching. Lu Fang went to get two jugs of wine himself. Before he could pour, the woman, who had spent years at Spring Tide Palace and was used to serving people, quickly stood up to pour wine for Lu Fang. Then she poured a bowl for herself.
Lu Fang didn't look at the face that had once broken hearts. He just glanced at her hands, as delicate and well-cared-for as a young girl's. He raised his wine bowl and smiled faintly.
The woman breathed a little easier. After a moment, she got up and went out to the street to retrieve the small flute and the Big Spring Sword for Lu Fang. She even picked up Smiling Face's head and placed it on another table in the tavern. When she sat back down, she gave a charming smile.
Lu Fang held his wine bowl and turned to look at the empty street.
It was as if he saw a perfectly matched boy and girl, chasing and playing.
---
Zhong Qiu's eyes were only on the white-robed young man. He said, "When we fight, no one will interfere. So just concentrate on throwing your punches."
Zhong Qiu added, "If someone still makes a sneak attack on you, I, Zhong Qiu, will definitely kill them, whether it's Ding Ying or Yu Zhenyi."
Chen Ping'an raised his hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. A wound was visible on his arm, showing white bone. To block Lu Fang's sword strike, the sleeve of his white robe had been torn open, leaving a large gash. This was the first time the Golden Spirit Robe had been damaged. Although its magic effect was suppressed, its toughness remained. This was enough to show the superior killing power of Lu Fang's swordsmanship.
After speaking, Zhong Qiu began to walk forward.
His pace seemed slow, but with each step, he crossed three or four yards, and there was no fluctuation in his qi.
Zhong Qiu was the National Preceptor of Nanyuan Kingdom, but also a scholar renowned for his calligraphy and painting.
Every word and every sentence must follow the rules; every punch and every kick must conform to the laws.
The pinnacle of such cultivation was to be a literary sage and a martial grandmaster.
Zhong Qiu was both.
Ding Ying looked down on all martial artists in this world, but highly regarded Zhong Qiu. Of course, there was a reason.
Chen Ping'an stood his ground, motionless.
Zhong Qiu's "leisurely stroll" reminded him of the scene when Ding Ying walked into the main hall of the White River Temple.
The old man in the bamboo building of Falling Mountain had that invincible aura, but Chen Ping'an could only vaguely grasp a fraction of it. The gap in cultivation was too great; the distance between them was too far. Chen Ping'an couldn't fathom the core principle.
That old man surnamed Cui's martial arts was too advanced. Although he didn't try to force Chen Ping'an's growth, when Chen Ping'an climbed each realm after reaching the Fourth Realm, the specific steps in his advancement didn't bring much benefit.
But Ding Ying and Zhong Qiu's unique sense of being in harmony with heaven and earth—the first time, Chen Ping'an didn't feel it deeply; the second time, he had something to chew on, tasting a bit of flavor.
Zhong Qiu simply came straight at him. There was none of Ma Xuan's ferociousness as the Gilt Vajra, none of Smiling Face's treacherous cunning, and certainly none of Feng Qingbai's unstoppable, murderous sword thrust.
Zhong Qiu's shoulders swayed almost imperceptibly. In his blue robe, the subtle movement of his shoulders was like clouds passing by an ancient pine.
Zhong Qiu threw a punch at Chen Ping'an. There was no outward discharge of fist force, no thundering noise.
Because Zhong Qiu's punch was so strange, Chen Ping'an, for the first time, was distracted for a moment. He hesitated: should he counter with the Divine Being Drums Style for a decisive blow, or use a defensive punch adapted from the "Suppressing the God Head" technique in the "Orthodox Sword Arts"? Luckily, Chen Ping'an immediately abandoned both options. He retreated, sliding backward, while instinctively raising his arm and shielding his face with his palm.
Zhong Qiu's fist landed on Chen Ping'an's palm.
He stopped at that point, just touching.
But Chen Ping'an's own hand struck his face hard.
With a bang, he flew backward.
Twisting his body, he waved his two large white sleeves in the air, steadied himself three yards away.
Zhong Qiu still had one hand behind his back, calmly saying, "Distraction won't do."
Chen Ping'an clenched and unclenched his left hand. The numbing feeling like a lightning strike in his palm was instantly cleared.
Zhong Qiu smiled. "You're too clever. Without this test, I wouldn't have been sure if you were left-handed. In those ten punches you threw at Lu Fang, you probably were sure Lu Fang was doomed. So you intentionally alternated left and right punches, six with the left, four with the right. You were already preparing for the next battle at that time, weren't you?"
Chen Ping'an didn't speak.
Zhong Qiu wasn't bothered. "The reason I'm going against my nature and saying these random things to you is that earlier, to save Lu Fang, I threw an underhanded punch. So when you were distracted just now, I held back. I didn't deliver a killing blow. From now on, I won't be so polite."
Zhong Qiu turned to Feng Qingbai and the others. "Don't touch the little girl on that bench. Otherwise, don't blame me for indiscriminate killing..."
Chen Ping'an instantly appeared behind Zhong Qiu. He swung his whole arm, then suddenly flicked his forearm. The force shot out like an arrow, hitting the back of Zhong Qiu's head.
Zhong Qiu arched his back. His spine rose like a mountain, and his ribs moved like dragons swimming. He didn't move a single step, forcefully taking Chen Ping'an's fierce blow.
Because Chen Ping'an hadn't used the Divine Being Drums Style, his stance was too large, and the momentum was too obvious. Against a grandmaster as profound as Zhong Qiu, such a punch would likely miss.
A pure martial artist who has trained deeply can, without seeing or hearing, sense danger and avoid it. They could even kill someone approaching the bedside in their sleep and continue sleeping undisturbed.
Chen Ping'an had only thrown a normal, full-force punch. Combined with Zhong Qiu's unexpected stability rooted like a mountain, it became difficult to land the punch and retreat quickly. Zhong Qiu threw a backhand punch at Chen Ping'an's ribs, sending him flying sideways. But Zhong Qiu's second punch was blocked by Chen Ping'an's leg swipe, and he lost the chance to beat a drowning dog.
The two separated and stood again.
Zhong Qiu twitched the corner of his mouth. So the National Preceptor had done this deliberately—to make up for his own sneak attack punch, but also as bait.
The two charged almost simultaneously.
Often, in the span of a foot, their fists either missed each other or lightly tapped in passing. The fight was eerily silent.
Completely opposite to the earth-shattering battle between Chen Ping'an and Lu Fang.
Zhou Shi was completely lost.
The banished immortal Feng Qingbai understood a little better, having encountered some martial grandmasters from Parasol Leaf Continent.
A truly magnificent, forceful punch hitting a person should be like a boulder thrown into a lake, creating ripples to cause external injury and stir up internal damage.
Zhong Qiu had once used a single punch to keep a hardened martial artist in bed for years. Under his clothes, his skin cracked like porcelain, not to mention his internal organs.
The skinny little girl on the small stool, upon hearing the teacher's words, felt as if she had been granted amnesty. She beamed with joy and began to wave her fists and kick her legs, mimicking Chen Ping'an and Zhong Qiu's punches.
Finally, the first small victory was decided.
Chen Ping'an's fist was deflected by a tricky elbow strike, and Zhong Qiu pushed him in the chest with a palm. Chen Ping'an flew over the chasm and crashed into the opposite wall.
Zhong Qiu stepped across the chasm that Lu Fang's sword had carved.
But Chen Ping'an didn't collapse like the pipa woman or Lu Fang had earlier. He shook his shoulders and his robe, the broken stones from the wall clattering down. Just as Chen Ping'an was about to move, Zhong Qiu's punches suddenly became much faster. One punch came, then another, ten punches in an instant.
Six with the left fist, four with the right.
It was exactly Zhong Qiu's imitation of the Divine Being Drums Style, even the order of punches was the same.
What was even stranger was that after Zhong Qiu's ten punches, the high wall still wasn't completely broken, and Chen Ping'an was still trapped inside.
Chen Ping'an didn't wait to be killed. He was too familiar with the Divine Being Drums Style, and after a bout of fighting with Zhong Qiu, he had a general idea of his techniques. Of the ten punches, Chen Ping'an blocked four.
But the six that landed solidly made blood seep from the corner of Chen Ping'an's mouth. The last punch, in particular, made Chen Ping'an's body bounce.
Even though Zhong Qiu was imitating someone else's stance for the first time, he still executed the punches calmly and methodically. Just as he was about to launch another set of ten punches, he immediately retreated several steps, then retreated again, leaping back over the chasm. At the moment when Chen Ping'an seemed to have exhausted his strength, his body inside the wall rebounded slightly. That instant, Zhong Qiu's hairs stood on end. His mind tightened. Without thinking, he gave up his advantageous position and chose to withdraw.
Zhong Qiu was extremely alert. He had still underestimated this young man's ability to take damage. He had almost fallen for it.
Chen Ping'an was regretful. He had been a hair's breadth away from successfully delivering a Divine Being Drums Style punch.
So those ten counterfeit punches from Zhong Qiu were essentially taken for nothing.
After floating down to the ground, Chen Ping'an slowly walked toward the chasm.
Zhong Qiu gave a helpless laugh.
You learn my stance, I learn your footwork?
But Zhong Qiu narrowed his eyes.
The grande stance he had figured out himself had nothing to do with fist techniques. It was about training the back to be like a mountain, the shoulders to be like flowing clouds and water, then the elbow tips to be like an eagle's beak, and finally the hands and fists. Everything was one continuous, integrated whole. Once such a stance was set up and repeatedly tempered, it was like a mountain rooted in the earth. No matter how ferocious or exquisite an opponent's punch or sword strike, it would always be fighting against Zhong Qiu's entire spirit and will.
This proud stance, which Zhong Qiu privately named "Summit," even if someone like the Eight-Armed Deity Xue Yuan, an external martial arts grandmaster, stared and stole the technique by watching over and over, he probably wouldn't truly grasp its inner essence. Making it look similar was not hard, but without several years of dedicated study, forget about achieving spiritual resemblance!
Yet the young man in front of him had already obtained some of the divine intent of his stance.
The two faced off across the chasm.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath. For the first time, he took the initiative to speak during a fight. "Does this stance of yours have a name?"
Zhong Qiu smiled and nodded. "It's called 'Summit.' I came up with it when I was young and ambitious. I felt that if I kept training, I would definitely stand at the peak of the world. Later, I was too lazy to change it. Among my ten direct disciples, most have trained for twenty or thirty years and still haven't attained the level you achieved by just a few casual looks. Truly worthy of a banished immortal."
Chen Ping'an suddenly smiled. "The first fist manual I trained was called 'Mountain-Shaking Fist.'"
Zhong Qiu laughed. "Will my fists overtop the mountains, or will your fists shake the mountains? Let's find out?"
Zhong Qiu took a step back, bent his knees slightly. He raised one hand high, wrist slightly tilted, palm as if holding something. He placed the other fist in front of his body closed.
Even standing still, at this moment, Zhong Qiu gave everyone watching on the street a suffocating feeling, as if a storm was brewing.
This was the Foremost Hand of the World assuming a genuine, formal stance for the first time.
Chen Ping'an's heart was calm as still water.
During this trip to the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom to find the Contemplation Tao Temple, he had wandered for so long that he eventually became restless, even neglecting his fists and swordsmanship. He had seen many people and things, and they had just passed by. But there were some things that he hadn't paid attention to at the time, yet after fighting Zhong Qiu, they came to him in a flash of inspiration, the accumulation finally paying off.
When he first moved into that house, because he often had to pass by a nearby martial arts school, Chen Ping'an, having nothing to do, would sit quietly in the shadows where no one noticed and watch what the common people called "practitioners" or "old hands" train. The master was an old man revered by his students. Besides secretly teaching standing exercises, footwork, and stances, he also talked about his heroic deeds when he roamed the martial world. But in Chen Ping'an's eyes, the old man's martial arts were really nothing.
That time, Chen Ping'an left quickly.
Later, when he had no leads in finding the temple, he went to the martial arts school again, just to relax.
At that time, the old master stood with his hands behind his back while the students performed standing exercises, talking about vague martial arts principles—"When one branch moves, a hundred branches sway"; "For our internal style, don't listen to sound or look at form, but listen to force"; when you reach that level, you've arrived. "The bones and tendons must be relaxed, the skin and hair must attack." Someone once ambushed him from behind, and he purely out of instinct turned and punched, almost killing the man.
Chen Ping'an found it somewhat amusing. Finally, the old master did something Chen Ping'an had never seen before.
It made him look at the old man with new respect.
The old man had a young man who had just become an indoor disciple stand still. Two people grabbed his hands tightly, pulling his arms taut. Two others crouched and held tight to his knees. The old man then began to align the spine, not by pinching muscles in a fake stance, but by starting from the disciple's neck vertebrae and moving all the way down, smoothing them out. In the martial world, this was called "adjusting the great dragon," regardless of internal or external style.
Finally, when the old man pressed on the tailbone, he suddenly applied a gentle force. The disciple startled, shivered, and all his body hair stood on end like a dense forest.
The young disciple's struggle made the two seniors who were pulling his arms sway and take a step forward. The two holding his legs only moved slightly.
The old man was a bit disappointed but said nothing.
If all four people holding his limbs had been unable to keep their positions, then he would have been a genius for martial arts. That indoor disciple had acceptable talent but definitely no great future.
Chen Ping'an had found it fascinating but hadn't thought deeply about it afterward.
Until today, this very moment, inexplicably trapped here with continuous battles, surrounded and almost certain to die, Chen Ping'an suddenly had an epiphany.
Before fighting Lu Fang, his fist techniques had achieved a state of free release and restraint.
But his state of mind hadn't kept pace.
However, after the battle with Zhong Qiu, his state of mind also caught up.
Especially after learning Zhong Qiu's grand stance and recalling the "adjusting the great dragon," Chen Ping'an's heartstrings vibrated. An idea arose. Involuntarily, he started with the six-step walking stance of the original Mountain-Shaking Fist, moving straight forward. Whether to release or restrain his fist intent no longer mattered. Unconsciously, step by step, he walked on air.
After having practiced fists a million times, Chen Ping'an, on the fifth step, his entire spine seemed to adjust the great dragon on its own, producing a series of cracking sounds like breaking soybeans.
Zhong Qiu shot forward, throwing a punch to drive the young man back from above the chasm.
Chen Ping'an, like flying in the wind, also threw a punch.
The two were within arm's reach. Their fists hit each other's chests almost simultaneously.
Zhong Qiu's blue robe fluttered wildly. He vanished from the street with a rumbling sound. If someone had been looking down at this part of the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom from above, they would have seen a long straight line torn open. Zhong Qiu, pushed back twenty yards, only barely managed to stop his retreat, his legs buried deep in the ground.
Although he was only lightly injured, Zhong Qiu had lost.
The white-robed figure stood by the chasm on the street, not retreating a single step.
If only this world was considered, Zhong Qiu was no longer the Foremost Hand of the World.
Within arm's reach, Chen was invincible.
First set a small goal, like 1 second to remember: