Both men displayed the full extent of their martial arts, exchanging more than a hundred moves under the watchful eyes of the assembled heroes.
At that moment, Wutian Chan Master suddenly saw the Martial Demon raise a hand and launch a palm strike.
The sight startled him greatly.
This palm force was different from the fierce, explosive attacks that had come before. Its energy flowed long and deep, seemingly gentle on the surface, yet Wutian immediately sensed the deadly danger concealed within it. The strike carried an endless reserve of power, terrifying in its potential.
He dared not meet it head-on.
With a cold snort, he dodged aside and allowed the palm force to sweep past.
At once, he sank his qi into his dantian and pushed off the ground. His movement was incomparably swift. Leaping high into the air, he circled behind the Martial Demon. With a long whistle, he struck toward his opponent's back with his left arm.
The Martial Demon merely snorted.
His body shifted slightly.
Secretly activating the Divine Art of Primordial Chaos, he withdrew his right wrist and swept his sleeve outward, intercepting Wutian's attack. At the same time, the index and middle fingers of his left hand shot forward with lightning speed.
The move was not only astonishingly fast—it was utterly unpredictable.
Wutian's heart trembled.
He attempted to alter his attack midway, but it was already too late. His momentum had carried him too far.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the Martial Demon could become even more formidable than before.
After a brief exchange, Wutian found himself forced backward several yards.
For the first time, a stunned expression appeared upon his face.
What puzzled him most was the Martial Demon's internal energy.
His opponent's strength showed no sign of diminishing.
To be precise, his vast reserves of power seemed inexhaustible.
The cultivation of internal energy was among the most difficult of all martial pursuits. Every ounce of true qi represented years upon years of painstaking training. No profound internal art could be mastered without ten, twenty, or even more years of dedicated practice.
Though martial techniques varied from school to school, the ultimate outcome of combat often depended upon the depth of one's internal cultivation.
The Martial Demon had clearly followed a path unlike any other.
More than twenty years earlier, he had made countless enemies throughout Jianghu. At that time, Han Zhen, the leader of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, had united forces with the Jing Sect, the Manichaean Sect, the Fire-Worship Sect, and Shaolin Temple to hunt him down.
His martial arts had been crippled.
Driven into a desperate corner, he had thrown himself into a bottomless abyss.
Everyone had assumed he was dead.
Yet fate had decreed otherwise.
The Martial Demon survived.
Hidden within an ancient cave behind the peaks of Purple Cloud Mountain, he spent years in seclusion cultivating his skills. At last, he recovered his strength and surpassed his former self.
The moment he saw the astonishment on Wutian's face, the Martial Demon knew his opponent had been shaken by the display of power.
His confidence soared.
Laughing loudly, he declared,
"Jianghu speaks endlessly of the great Wutian Chan Master, whose Buddhist powers and divine abilities shake the world. Yet from what I can see, you are little more than a man living upon an undeserved reputation."
Though the Martial Demon was an unrivaled master whose skills defied measurement, Wutian's ambitions had always been as lofty as the heavens.
Only now did he realize that the Martial Demon's power far exceeded what he had previously displayed.
Originally, Wutian had intended to use the battle at Huangshan Palace to defeat two of the greatest masters in Jianghu in a single stroke, gaining both fame and prestige.
But he had overestimated himself.
After narrowly defeating the Western Holy Mother, he had become intoxicated with success. Pride swelled within him. Confidence turned to arrogance.
He had forgotten that the Martial Demon was a figure of unfathomable power.
Now he stood on the brink of disaster.
The two men resembled a pair of horses.
The Martial Demon was like a powerful steed that conserved its strength, capable of traveling a thousand miles without exhaustion.
Wutian, by contrast, was like an impatient horse that sprinted recklessly, exhausting itself long before reaching its destination.
Having strained himself too greatly, Wutian's internal energy was no longer what it had been.
The Martial Demon, however, was different.
His martial arts were strange and mysterious.
His cultivation had reached a level bordering upon the supernatural.
His true qi flowed endlessly, like an eternal river without beginning or end.
The time had finally come for years of hidden accumulation to reveal their full power.
As the saying goes:
"Those who take little are easily satisfied; those who constantly strive to excel are quickly exhausted."
Wutian burned with frustration.
Though inwardly shaken, he forced himself to appear fierce.
"Old Demon!" he shouted. "Enough of your boasting! To offend a Bodhisattva is to invite calamity upon yourself! This monk has come today to subdue demons and eradicate evil!"
With a thunderous roar, he surged forward.
His palm shot outward.
The technique known as Buddha's Light Illuminates All burst forth.
At that moment, a powerful gust swept across the arena, sending robes and sleeves fluttering wildly.
The battle resumed.
Yet Wutian's earlier displays of power had already drained him.
The Martial Demon, meanwhile, remained as steady and powerful as ever.
As they exchanged blows once more, signs of defeat gradually appeared upon Wutian.
His movements lacked their former agility.
His attacks carried impressive force but little substance.
Within only a few exchanges, he was forced to abandon offense and concentrate entirely on defense.
Only now did the outlaws of the Justice Alliance finally understand.
The Martial Demon had willingly placed himself in danger and endured enormous risks for a greater purpose.
His intentions had been far deeper than anyone realized.
At this point, it almost seemed as though he were toying with Wutian.
The Martial Demon moved with effortless ease.
His figure drifted east and west like a wandering breeze.
Facing Wutian's attacks, he employed intricate footwork, seizing, intercepting, cutting, and countering while simultaneously using fists, palms, and fingers.
Everything appeared completely under his control.
Suddenly he burst into laughter.
"Excellent! Excellent!" he mocked. "Since you call yourself a living Bodhisattva, allow this old demon to help recast your golden body!"
Wutian's face darkened further.
"If you possess any skill, then come and use it!" he shouted angrily.
In the blink of an eye, more than ten exchanges passed.
Wutian was already in complete disarray.
The Martial Demon had dominated the martial world for decades.
A monster among men.
A supreme devil of the age.
How could such a figure be easy to oppose?
Wutian struggled desperately to block each incoming attack.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.
Only now did he truly understand.
The Martial Demon was not merely powerful.
He was one of the rarest and most formidable masters ever seen in the history of Jianghu.
Even while exchanging blows, the two continued their verbal battle.
Though Wutian remained sharp-tongued, fear could no longer be concealed within his eyes.
The Martial Demon laughed.
"Do not think that defeating that woman has made you invincible beneath heaven. Today, I shall broaden your horizons!"
As he spoke, both palms rose.
Two strikes followed in rapid succession.
The first palm floated lightly forward.
It was merely a feint.
Its purpose was to draw out Wutian's response and disrupt his concentration.
Exhausted and slow, Wutian took the bait.
His palm struck empty air.
His balance shifted.
An opening appeared.
With nowhere left to evade and no strength remaining to recover, he found himself completely exposed.
The Martial Demon's second palm struck like thunder.
It shot directly toward his chest.
Wutian twisted sideways and pushed off the ground.
Of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, retreat was the best.
Unfortunately, his strength had already failed him.
Though he managed to leap away, his speed was insufficient.
The Martial Demon followed instantly.
His body streaked through the air like a shooting star.
Bang!
A heavy palm landed squarely upon Wutian's left shoulder.
The monk was hurled from the air.
He crashed to the ground.
A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips.
The proud arrogance that had once filled him was gone.
He now resembled a prisoner awaiting capture.
Suddenly, someone among the spectators cried out:
"How could Wutian Chan Master possibly be a match for the Martial Demon?"
The Martial Demon stood proudly amidst the arena.
Having fully displayed his might, his spirit soared.
Radiant with triumph, he laughed loudly and proclaimed:
"Wutian Chan Master! This Demon Lord spares your life today. Consider it an act of mercy. I have already helped recast your golden body. From this day forward, you shall join our Justice Alliance!"