Seeing Master Liaoyin's offensive slow for the briefest instant, Chen Jinfeng's eyes flashed coldly. She snapped her horsetail whisk through the air, and its silver strands split at once into countless blade-like threads, each one driving toward the vital points all across Liaoyin's body.
Though Master Liaoyin possessed the Vajra Body, he could not afford to take such a dense assault lightly. His palms struck out in rapid succession, wave upon wave of palm-force crashing forward like the tide, batting aside each silver filament one by one.
But Chen Jinfeng did not relent. Her figure blurred and vanished, only to reappear behind Liaoyin in the blink of an eye. With another flick of her whisk, the silver threads coiled like venomous serpents around his legs.
Liaoyin reacted a heartbeat too late.
The threads bound both legs at once, and his body stalled.
A faint smile curled at Chen Jinfeng's lips. She gave the whisk a violent pull.
Master Liaoyin lost his balance and crashed heavily to the ground.
As a disciple of the Buddhist path, Master Liaoyin could never abide the Holy Church of the West waving the banner of "Buddha's compassion" while deceiving the world beyond. In his own heart, he believed he stood upright, acted upright, and had nothing to regret—why then should he yield?
Yet this very righteousness placed the monks of Shaolin in a deeply awkward position. Not only had he made a new enemy, he had very likely staked his own life upon it.
The sects had all come this day under righteous cause to destroy the Martial Demon. Yet however justified their banner, they had failed to inspire in the martial world any true sense of magnanimity or mercy. These so-called righteous men spoke always of virtue, yet understood nothing of forgiveness. Though the Martial Demon had returned to the jianghu, he had not yet slaughtered indiscriminately—so why then had they come in such force to exterminate him? Was there some hidden motive beneath their grand cause?
Ordinary men of the martial world could not know.
Perhaps it was one of those secrets the jianghu would never uncover.
Zeng Shen, foremost among the disciples of Confucius, once said: "The Master's Way is but loyalty and forbearance."
Loyalty and forbearance—these were not merely virtues, but moral law.
Loyalty: to devote one's whole heart to others.
Forbearance: to measure others by oneself.
Though restrained, Master Liaoyin's gaze remained unshaken.
He planted both palms upon the earth and suddenly drove his force downward. In an instant, his inner qi erupted and shattered the silver threads wound about his legs.
He flipped to his feet and struck again with both palms.
Palm-force surged forth like a dragon, roaring straight toward Chen Jinfeng.
Chen Jinfeng shifted aside and narrowly evaded the fatal strike, but Liaoyin's palm-wind still grazed her shoulder, carving a thin line of blood across it.
Her brows tightened.
She had not expected that even wounded, Master Liaoyin could still wield such force.
With a cold snort, she whipped the whisk once more. Silver strands poured down like rain, enclosing Liaoyin from every direction.
Liaoyin brought his palms together and softly intoned the Buddha's name. Golden light flared once more around his body.
Then a blast of force exploded outward.
The shockwave roared ten zhang beyond him, hurling even the spectators at the edge of the field sprawling backward. Though its force had already weakened by distance, it was enough to show all present the terrifying purity and depth of Master Liaoyin's internal power.
In that taut and perilous instant, the two met again in a clash of lightning speed.
Master Liaoyin barked:
"Demon Mother—your skill is formidable!"
Chen Jinfeng snapped back at once:
"Demon monk—mind your tongue!"
Though inwardly startled by his power, she betrayed nothing in her movements. Her attacks remained swift and decisive. Sleeves flaring, she drove straight for his centerline.
Suddenly Liaoyin's arms locked like iron bars, circling in to trap her limbs.
Chen Jinfeng's eyes widened.
"Shaolin Twin Ring Hands!"
She burst her arms outward with force, trying to break free.
Liaoyin gave a grim laugh.
"So—you have some knowledge. This old monk is indeed using the Buddhist art of Shaolin Twin Ring Hands!"
Chen Jinfeng changed her palm pattern at once, shifting her stance and turning her body.
Liaoyin thundered:
"Demon Mother, take this palm!"
His palm sank, then lashed out.
Its force was savage beyond compare, sharp enough to split mountain and shatter stone.
This was the Great Stele-Shattering Palm.
One of Shaolin's Seventy-Two Supreme Arts, it was a skill forged only through years of brutal discipline. One trained by striking a massive stone slab barehanded—again and again, on both sides—until one palm alone could split the stone monument in two.
As the crushing palm-force bore down upon her like a mountain prison, Holy Mother Chen Jinfeng was genuinely startled.
She raised an arm to block and gave a cold laugh.
"Demon monk—your skill is not bad."
Before the laugh had faded, she touched the ground with one foot and sprang upward, swift as lightning. With a sharp cry, she unleashed a move called Rain of Arrows Through the Forest.
Her palms flashed like streaking light, striking again and again in rapid succession, each blow fierce beyond measure. Step by step she pressed forward, chaining one relentless strike into the next.
Yet Master Liaoyin did not move.
Instead, he suddenly said:
"Today I first come to worship the Buddha. The Buddha said:
Do not seek Vulture Peak afar—
Vulture Peak lies within your own heart.
Each man has his own spirit pagoda;
Cultivate beneath that tower."
As he spoke, he unleashed a move from Shaolin's supreme art—the Weituo Palm.
Spirit Mountain Pays Homage to the Buddha.
Even as his strike continued, his voice rang on:
"One hundred and eight bows before the Buddha at home—sincere prostration. Now this old monk offers incense!"
Then, with terrifying force, one palm hacked forward as though to split chest and belly alike.
In that instant of lightning speed, Chen Jinfeng thought:
"I came today to redeem the Martial Demon, hoping to bring him beneath the banner of the Holy Church of the West. Who could have expected this old monk to latch onto my church instead? As Holy Mother of the West, how can I endure such contempt and slander from a monk? Yet though he is wounded, how is his palm-force still so overwhelming?"
Against her will, a trace of respect rose in her heart.
Her palms crossed and turned, countering with the move Fearless Grove of Mercy. Her body flowed aside like drifting cloud and running water. Both palms pushed outward.
Liaoyin was wounded—how could he dare meet that strike head-on?
He leapt upward at once, body spinning high in the air. Then he twisted sharply and plunged downward like a startled hawk sweeping from the heavens, both palms crashing down.
Chen Jinfeng felt the wind of the blow crash into her face and dared not receive it directly. She slipped aside on a slanting step and said:
"This Holy Mother has seen through the dust of the mortal world and founded the Holy Church of the West, vowing to enter the world and save all suffering beings. Why does Master insist on slandering my faith?"
At her words, Master Liaoyin flared with anger.
"One blue lamp beside the ancient Buddha—
half for cultivation, half for falling into demonhood.
You have fallen into the demonic path, yet style yourself Holy Mother of the West.
If this can be endured, what cannot?
As one of the Buddhist path, this old monk stakes his life today.
If I die, I die. I shall have no regret!"
With a roar, he struck again.
Chen Jinfeng answered sharply:
"This Holy Mother has come today to redeem the living and speak the Dharma to the martial world. If you do not wish to hear, so be it—but why slander my church again and again? What deep enmity lies between us?"
Liaoyin barked back:
"Demon woman! You style yourself Holy Mother of the West and claim the seat of the Western Mother—fallen into demonhood! If this can be endured, what cannot?"
Chen Jinfeng had meant to soften her words, to leave both sides a path to retreat.
But Master Liaoyin would not yield an inch.
At last her expression hardened. Murder flashed in her eyes.
"Demon monk! The Holy Church of the West has shown restraint again and again, yet you only press further with every inch given. It seems there can be only one end today—you and I shall fight to the death! Either you die, or I do!"
Liaoyin turned both palms and forced her back.
"Your ambition reaches the heavens. You claim you came today to redeem the Martial Demon, but in truth you seek to draw him beneath your banner and one day dominate the martial world. This old monk is not a fool!"
Chen Jinfeng snapped in fury:
"Mad monk! You spew madness and ruin the name of my Holy Church. Since you force my hand, do not blame me. Prepare to die!"
Yet Master Liaoyin lifted his head and looked around the field, then declared in a ringing voice:
"What joy is there in life? What fear is there in death?
Demon woman—if today I strike you down, then I rid the martial world of one more scourge and earn true merit. If instead I die beneath your palm, then that too is Heaven's decree. I shall leave suffering behind and ascend the Buddha's path."
Their clash had already become ferocious beyond measure, and their battle of words was no less savage.
Though Chen Jinfeng had softened her tone more than once, Master Liaoyin remained immovable in righteous conviction. For the sake of Buddhist orthodoxy, his resolve to die for the Way only hardened.
She had never expected that the Holy Church of the West had no intention today of provoking Shaolin, and Shaolin in turn had no wish to make an enemy of the Holy Church.
And yet, by sheer force of will, Master Liaoyin had dragged the Holy Church into conflict—and now, in this very moment, had driven both the Holy Church of the West and Holy Mother Chen Jinfeng onto the road of no return.