The two men tested each other in martial combat, but first came a fierce exchange of words, adding even more gunpowder to the tension between them. Master Wutian unfolded his footwork, striking with palms and flying kicks, swift and agile, fists and legs alternating in seamless succession. Punches and palms moved together in deadly harmony, kicks, stomps, hooks, and counters colliding head-on. Their techniques shifted endlessly between fists and palms as waves of internal energy surged outward. Their exchange was astonishingly fast; in the blink of an eye, thirty moves had already passed.
Master Wutian's martial arts were exceedingly strange and mysterious. Having roamed the jianghu for many years, he possessed astonishing secret skills. His unique art was known as the Wutian Palm Formula, divided into two paths: the Soft Palm and the Iron Palm. The Soft Palm followed the route of yin softness—its movements flowing like silk, continuous and unbroken, the palm techniques circling endlessly. Its force concealed hardness within softness, storing fierce power internally while outwardly appearing supple and gentle, only to erupt with explosive speed at the decisive instant. The Iron Palm, meanwhile, followed the path of yang hardness, capable of splitting bricks and shattering stone with terrifying force.
At that moment, Master Wutian unleashed a move called "Piercing Heart, Rooted Step." Grabbing the shoulder and striking with the elbow, the attack was fast without disorder, slow without interruption, hard without rigidity, soft yet grounded in stable footwork. The technique perfectly balanced softness and hardness, shifting constantly between the Soft Palm and Iron Palm. Master Wutian's cultivation was profound, his mastery of martial arts extraordinarily deep. Li Jian dared not show the slightest carelessness. Immediately channeling power into both palms, he met the assault head-on with the move "Calm Waves Without Ripples," chopping, deflecting, lifting, and sweeping in one fluid motion.
Just then, Master Wutian fought with rising excitement and let out a long whistle. His attacks grew faster and fiercer. A heart-piercing palm suddenly shot straight toward Li Jian's centerline. Li Jian answered with "Boundless Seas and Open Skies." His legs shifted between emptiness and solidity—the front leg false, the rear leg true. His horse stance rose and fell like the silent tread of a cat. Within emptiness there was substance; within substance, hidden emptiness. Tension and relaxation complemented one another in perfect balance. His footwork flowed with agile precision, while the hips and thighs carried softness mixed with strength, strength concealed within softness. Then, sinking both elbows, Li Jian thrust out both palms like twin dragons surging from the sea, unstoppable and fierce beyond compare.
The sight of the two combatants clashing in the arena was magnificent beyond words. Their duel was so thrilling that the spectators could not help but applaud and roar their approval.
The two continued exchanging punches and kicks in the arena, offense and defense mingling with feints and realities, advancing and retreating like the teeth of a giant saw. Their hand techniques were evenly matched, neither yielding an inch. Truly, it was "as if cutting and polishing jade together." They sharpened one another through combat, utterly equal in skill. Soon fifty moves had nearly passed, yet victory remained undecided.
Then Master Wutian suddenly altered his palm technique. With the move "Iron Ox Pushes the Mountain," he spread his stance wide and chopped forward with a single palm. A fierce blast of palm wind rushed forward like thunder and lightning, violent beyond measure. How could Li Jian dare receive it directly? He swiftly twisted aside to evade the strike. Yet the move flowed continuously—Master Wutian did not withdraw his force but pressed onward in relentless pursuit. In an instant, palm after palm shot toward Li Jian's chest in rapid succession.
With no other option, Li Jian planted himself firmly into a horse stance, shook his shoulders, and met the attack palm against palm. During the transitions of his stance, he retreated three steps in succession while answering with three consecutive palm strikes. Thunderous explosions rang out endlessly, causing Tan Wei outside the arena to tremble with fear.
Suddenly, Master Wutian withdrew his palms and collected his stance. Pressing his palms together, he declared loudly:
"Hall Master Li, fifty moves have passed. This humble monk shall honor his word. From this day onward, all grudges between us are erased."
Li Jian also withdrew his stance and respectfully pressed his palms together.
"Many thanks, Master, for setting aside past grievances, distinguishing public matters from private ones, and judging fairly without prejudice."
At that moment, Judge Cui strode forward and proclaimed:
"The palm and fist mastery of these two gentlemen is truly peerless beneath heaven. To exchange martial arts as friends and sharpen one another through combat—this is the very spirit of today's martial world."
As the saying goes, after reaching one hundred feet, one must still advance another step. For those who cultivate martial arts, sparring is a means to refine one's skill. The study of fists and palms is boundless; only through constant tempering and refinement may one ascend to the pinnacle of mastery.
Fei Jin also stepped forward, chuckling warmly.
"I have long admired the Zen Master's great reputation. Today the Master has shown mercy and restraint. This old man offers his heartfelt thanks."
Master Wutian replied:
"If not for the Beggar Sect Chief's intercession today, my hands would not have shown mercy!"
The meaning behind his words was clear: had Fei Jin not intervened on Li Jian's behalf, the matter would never have ended so easily.
As for who truly stood higher in martial skill, that was ultimately a minor matter. In the jianghu, grandeur, bearing, and reputation mattered more than substance itself. For renowned figures such as Master Wutian, losing face was absolutely unacceptable—for reputation was always the thing most cherished by those famed throughout the martial world.
Just then, from not far outside the gathering grounds, the blaring sound of suona horns rose into the air, sharp and powerful, accompanied by booming drums and gongs. A grand procession slowly approached in carriages, while a fragrant scent drifted upon the wind.
Before long, a middle-aged woman stepped from one of the carriages. She wore flowing purple silk robes and carried herself with noble elegance. Among her four personal maidservants, Mei Hua and Ju Hua loudly announced:
"The Holy Mother of the West has arrived!"
It was none other than the Western Holy Cult arriving in full force and grandeur. The disciples of the cult loudly chanted:
"The world is void—who says suffering does not exist?The Holy Mother descends upon the Western lands.Beneath Heaven's cover and Earth's support,The Western Holy Cult shall endure for ten thousand ages.The Western Holy Cult rises with wind and water,The Western Holy Cult shall dominate the world.The Holy Mother of the West brings salvation to the five lakes,The Holy Mother of the West hears suffering cries and delivers all."
Everyone in the arena turned to look. The Four Holy Maidens—Peach Blossom, Plum Blossom, Peony, and Orchid—exchanged glances and immediately intoned:
"To hear the sacred title of the Holy Mother of the West,To behold the divine form of the Holy Mother of the West—May all who see or hear her ascend the Prajna vessel;May all who follow and revere her enter the fearless forest of compassion."
At once, everyone caught the scent of a faint and elegant fragrance. The Holy Mother of the West, Chen Jinfeng, stepped gracefully from her grand sedan chair, her bearing magnificent and imposing.
Then her gaze fell upon the banners of the Wutian Zen Sect. Upon them were embroidered phrases such as "Master Wutian," "Boundless Buddha Power," "Divine Mystical Arts," and "Might Shaking the World." The banners stood proudly throughout the gathering grounds, their brilliant colors glittering under the wind, especially glaring to the eye.
Her beautiful brows furrowed slightly as she spoke with cold disdain:
"Master Wutian, the transport guilds are holding a grand heroes' assembly here. What business do you have coming to this place? Worse still, your sect's banners stand planted everywhere, dazzling the eyes. To speak bluntly, are you here raising funeral banners to summon the dead?"