What had begun as a straightforward martial arts contest had now spiraled beyond anyone's control due to the appearance of the Martial Demon and the maneuvering of various factions. At that moment, Cui Fujun, the foremost magistrate of the martial world, leapt into the arena and cupped his hands respectfully.
"Heroes of the jianghu," he said, "today's contest at Huangshan Palace has come to an end. If there are grievances yet unsettled, I would urge everyone to remember that this is a place of spiritual cultivation. It is not fitting to engage in further fighting here."
The long-reclusive Martial Arbiter understood all too well that the situation was rapidly deteriorating. Though the opposing sides remained deadlocked for the moment, prolonged confrontation would inevitably erupt into a chaotic free-for-all.
Seeing Cui Fujun attempting to mediate, Tuoba Xingge naturally hoped to bring the matter to a close.
"Judge Cui speaks wisely," he said. "Senior Wu, this is a sacred place of cultivation. If we must fight, there will be no shortage of opportunities in the future."
The Martial Demon snorted coldly. Sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he said disdainfully,
"In the end, there's not a single one of you who can truly fight. Cui Fujun, if you want to stop this, fine—defeat me first, and I'll listen."
Faced with such arrogance, Cui Fujun chose diplomacy over confrontation, attempting to defuse the crisis.
"Senior Wu's martial arts are peerless and renowned throughout the world," he replied with a smile. "How could I possibly be your match? Let us simply forgo the contest."
But the tactic proved ineffective.
The Martial Demon glared at him.
"If that's the case, then get out of my way. I still have a score to settle with these pups."
His voice dripped with contempt.
Cui Fujun's face reddened. Standing awkwardly in the arena, he found himself caught between advancing and retreating, uncertain how to respond.
Just then, another figure flashed into the arena.
It was an old beggar.
He had a square face, a short beard beneath his chin, and a tall, sturdy frame with large hands and feet. His clothing was covered in patches, yet remarkably clean. In one hand he carried a large vermilion wine gourd.
"Judge Cui, don't be afraid," he called out. "If this old devil wants a fight, that's simple enough. We'll give him one."
The Martial Demon fixed his gaze upon the newcomer and barked,
"Are you Beggar Sect Chief Fei Jin?"
Outwardly calm and composed, Fei Jin had already begun circulating his internal energy in preparation.
Laughing heartily, he strode forward.
"I merely have the honor of serving as the Beggar Sect's chief. Unlike these great heroes, I'm nothing more than a mediocre fellow looking after a bunch of old and young beggars."
He burst into laughter again.
The Martial Demon had spent a lifetime dominating the martial world and seldom encountered equals. How could he tolerate such boldness from the Beggar Sect Chief?
A fierce expression instantly appeared on his face.
"I've long heard that the Beggar Sect Chief possesses extraordinary martial arts. Seeing you today confirms that reputation. May I request a few pointers?"
The words had barely left his mouth when his figure blurred like drifting smoke.
In an instant he shot forward.
His body seemed to expand as he launched a palm strike directly at Fei Jin.
The attack came so suddenly that shocked cries erupted from the surrounding crowd.
Everyone knew that very few people in the martial world could withstand a strike from the Martial Demon. Though Fei Jin's cultivation was profound, many still worried for him.
Yet Fei Jin had anticipated the attack.
He shifted his stance, stepping along the Ziwu Footwork. Dodging and countering flowed together in one seamless motion.
The spectators erupted in applause.
The two men immediately engaged in a dazzling exchange.
One attacked relentlessly while the other defended with precision.
The Martial Demon surged forward like a tempest, while Fei Jin pushed with his palms and retreated in measured steps.
Their movements were so swift that the onlookers could scarcely follow them.
The Martial Demon had already gathered tremendous internal power.
His left palm slashed diagonally through the air.
With a sharp crack, a massive decorative stone behind Fei Jin split cleanly in two from the force of the palm wind alone.
His right hand followed like a chopping blade, sweeping, striking, cleaving, and crashing forward with overwhelming ferocity.
Yet Fei Jin moved like drifting wind, appearing first east, then west.
His fists, palms, fingers, and claws shifted endlessly through a bewildering array of techniques.
Again and again he redirected the Martial Demon's marvelous attacks.
As the fight continued, every strike from the Martial Demon carried deadly force.
But gradually he realized that Fei Jin's internal power was astonishingly deep, scarcely inferior to his own.
Though the Beggar Chief's techniques appeared simple, every movement was solid and flawless.
His earlier contempt slowly faded.
"Old beggar," the Martial Demon called out, "do you only know how to take a beating without striking back?"
Fei Jin laughed.
"As members of the Beggar Sect, our foremost skill is precisely taking beatings without returning them."
The Martial Demon replied,
"Chief Fei is famed for his heroism and righteousness. Surely you cannot spend the entire time merely enduring attacks. Why not show me some real skill?"
Fei Jin smiled.
"My abilities are crude and shallow. You saw through them at a glance."
The Martial Demon shouted,
"If Chief Fei insists on playing the noble hero, then don't blame me for bullying others with superior skill!"
With a roar, he raised both palms.
The wind howled.
Three attacks unfolded into six variations, flashing forth like lightning toward Fei Jin.
His assaults became increasingly ruthless.
Fei Jin, however, employed softness to overcome hardness, borrowing force and redirecting power like a boat riding favorable currents.
One of the Martial Demon's palms missed slightly, causing a tiny shift in balance.
A difference of a hair could mean a difference of a thousand miles.
Seizing the opportunity, Fei Jin suddenly struck.
The palm shot forth like thunder.
Unable to evade, the Martial Demon turned sideways and met the attack head-on.
Bang!
Both men landed several paces apart.
Each was secretly astonished.
The Martial Demon thought to himself,
"This beggar's internal power is truly formidable! He remains passive most of the time, yet the moment he strikes, he breaks through my techniques. He is indeed a worthy opponent."
Aloud he said,
"Chief Fei's martial arts are truly exceptional. Today's match has left me wanting more. Let us fight in earnest!"
Fei Jin laughed once again and strode forward.
"Senior Wu, as I've said before, I am merely the chief of the Beggar Sect, looking after a crowd of old and young beggars. Matters of jianghu disputes should be left to the Chief of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness."
The Martial Demon frowned.
"And who is this Chief of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness? That organization has always meddled in affairs that don't concern it. Years ago, Han Zhen—the Blood-and-Iron Patriot—led Shaolin in a campaign against me. That grudge remains unpaid!"
Fei Jin laughed heartily.
"The new Chief of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness is Li Jian. You two have met before."
Then he raised his voice and called,
"Chief Li, why not come forward and meet Senior Wu?"
The words had scarcely faded when the sound of fluttering robes echoed through the arena.
A figure descended gracefully into the center.
After landing, the young man cupped his hands and bowed respectfully.
"Li Jian, Chief of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, pays his respects to Senior Wu."
At once, every eye in the arena turned toward him.
Li Jian remained courteous and composed, bowing deeply.
The Martial Demon waved a dismissive hand.
"Young man, spare me the formalities."
Li Jian replied respectfully,
"Senior's mighty reputation has long been a source of admiration for me."