Sparring

"Brother Jing, it's cold. Put on some more clothes."

On the city wall, Huang Rong tenderly draped the cloak in her hands over Guo Jing's shoulders.

Guo Jing turned around as well, gazing warmly at his wife. He pulled her into his arms and said softly, "You've worked hard these past few days."

"It wasn't hard. Brother Jing, you're the great hero guarding Xiangyang. As your wife, I naturally can't fall short. Shouldn't a husband and wife support each other like this?" Huang Rong said playfully, blinking her eyes.

"Haha."

The two stood quietly atop the wall, gazing into the distance. Although the battlefield had been cleared through the night, the scarlet stains covering the ground were still visible.

The traces left behind by hundreds of thousands of soldiers could not vanish in a single night.

"Brother Jing, look. It's Old Imp and Fang Xuan."

Guo Jing followed the direction of Huang Rong's finger and saw Old Imp on an open patch of ground outside the city, excitedly throwing punches and waving his arms without pause.

Seeing that Guo Jing remained silent, the quick-witted Huang Rong naturally guessed what was on his mind. She asked softly, "Brother Jing, are you worried about Fang Xuan?"

Guo Jing sighed. "As expected, I can't hide anything from you, Rong'er. That man is far too mysterious. His martial strength is like an overlord reborn. Yesterday, I asked Father-in-law about him, and even Father-in-law stated that he was no match for him. Such a person suddenly appearing in the martial world... I don't know whether it's a blessing or a disaster."

"What blessing? What disaster? Brother Jing, you never used to overthink things like this. Isn't the greatest calamity in the world today the war between the Mongols and Great Song? This man possesses formidable martial arts, yet his heart is with Great Song. Isn't that a blessing?" Huang Rong said.

Guo Jing froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Ah, Rong'er, you truly are wise. Your husband has become too fixated. How could I possibly control everything under heaven? No wonder Father-in-law likes living in seclusion on Peach Blossom Island, ignoring worldly affairs. Too much wisdom harms the body. It's better to keep things simple."

"Brother Jing carries the entire city of Xiangyang in his heart, so it's only natural for you to think more deeply. I've already sent Beggar Clan disciples to investigate his identity. The Beggar Clan's disciples are spread throughout the land, so it surely won't be long before... Hmm?"

Before she could finish, both of them looked into the distance with grave expressions. The towering phantom of a giant only lasted for two breaths, but even they were deeply shaken by the violent power it contained.

"The Heaven's Will Four Symbols Art? There is actually such a divine martial art in this world. I feel that even the Nine Yin Manual cannot compare to it," Guo Jing said solemnly.

"Brother Jing, let's go take a look."

"This... wouldn't that be inappropriate?" Guo Jing hesitated.

"Look over there."

Several figures rushed out from Xiangyang toward Old Imp. Clearly, they too had been alarmed by the commotion just now.

"Let's go."

After throwing the punch known as Wrath of the Wind God, Old Imp sat cross-legged on the ground. Only after the time it took for an incense stick to burn did he open his eyes, his gaze filled with wild joy.

"Haha! Master, my cultivation has really increased!" Old Imp bounced and jumped about like a child.

Fang Xuan was also greatly surprised by Old Imp's comprehension. As expected of someone with a pure heart and no distracting thoughts—he had mastered Wrath of the Wind God in less than two hours.

"The Heaven's Will Four Symbols Art is divided into four levels: wind, fire, thunder, and lightning. The further you progress, the harder it becomes to cultivate, but you'll also be able to wield increasingly more of heaven and earth's power. Its might will multiply accordingly. Your aptitude is quite good. Practice diligently in the future."

"Yes, Master."

"Second brother, I'm so tired!" Zhang Jing complained with a miserable little face from the side.

"No. Hold your horse stance for another two hours. Follow the breathing and circulation formula Old Imp just taught you," Fang Xuan said coldly.

"Second brother, you're bullying me. Hmph."

Though unhappy, she still continued holding her horse stance as Fang Xuan instructed.

No matter how much Old Imp protected Zhang Jing, it was still better for her to possess strength herself. Fang Xuan knew that this was the end of the Southern Song. The war between Song and Yuan would not cease, and the age of chaos had arrived. Even a man found it extremely difficult to survive in such troubled times, let alone a woman.

The Quanzhen Inner Power Cultivation Method was upright, balanced, and peaceful. One could cultivate it while walking, sitting, lying down, or standing. Those with poor aptitude would become light and healthy after practicing it, immune to illness, while those with good aptitude could rapidly accumulate inner power.

Ma Yu had merely taught Guo Jing a few breathing and circulation formulas, yet after some time, Guo Jing's inner power had actually surpassed that of his seven masters. This showed the merits of the Quanzhen Inner Power Cultivation Method.

"Greetings, Brother Fang."

Huang Yaoshi and the others arrived together.

Seeing them approach, Old Imp excitedly ran over and loudly said, "Old Eccentric Huang, Guo Jing, did you see the Wrath of the Wind God I used just now? Hehe, wasn't it amazing?"

Fang Xuan cupped his hands. "Greetings, everyone."

Master Yideng stepped forward and recited a Buddhist invocation. "Amitabha. We have disturbed Benefactor Fang. Please forgive us."

"No harm done. Cultivating the Heaven's Will Four Symbols Art causes too great a commotion, so I disturbed all of you instead," Fang Xuan said with a smile.

"Hey, I'm talking to you! Did you see it or not?" Old Imp said unhappily.

Huang Rong stepped forward with a smile. "Old Imp, your master is right here!"

Old Imp turned his head and secretly checked Fang Xuan's expression. Pouting, he said, "No fun, no fun."

Old Eccentric Huang swept his gaze over Fang Xuan and asked, "May I ask who Brother Fang's master is? Why have I never heard of this Heaven's Will Four Symbols Art? Whoever created such a divine martial art could not possibly be an unknown figure. Which senior master was it?"

Fang Xuan answered casually, "This divine martial art was created by the ancient immortal master Guang Chengzi. I obtained it by chance. It is only natural that Senior Eastern Heretic has not heard of it."

Old Eccentric Huang's face visibly darkened. This explanation clearly meant Fang Xuan did not want to answer. Guang Chengzi? Why not just say it had been passed down by the Three Pure Ones?

"Oh? So it is a legacy of an immortal. Then I would like to ask for some instruction," Huang Yaoshi said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"I too wish to witness the prestige of the Eastern Heretic. Shall we spar?"

"Impudent brat."

With that, Huang Yaoshi stepped forward, both fleshy palms drifting lightly toward Fang Xuan.

Though those palms appeared light and soft, they were incomparably fierce, cutting through the air like divine swords.

As his arms moved, palm shadows filled every direction—sometimes five feints and one real strike, sometimes eight feints and one real strike. It was like a sudden gale rising through a peach grove, blowing down ten thousand blossoms.

At the side, Huang Rong revealed a proud expression. "Father's Fallen Blossom Sword Palm has become even more perfected. Peach blossoms drift in illusion, fallen blossoms become divine swords."

Fang Xuan's heart also stirred with delight as he shouted, "Good!"

He stamped his foot, the muscles in his legs trembling. His entire body soared into the air like a white crane, one hand curling into a claw as it tore through the air.

"Crane Claw Imprints Sand."

The nails on his five fingers were like steel, utterly unafraid of Huang Yaoshi's inner power.

Huang Yaoshi snorted coldly. Feint and reality shifted, and the palm shadows before him were no longer five feints and one real strike—they were all real.

That was the strength of the Fallen Blossom Sword Palm. Its feints could lure and disrupt an enemy, yet in the heat of battle, the five or eight feints could all transform into real attacks.

Yet when those palm forces truly struck Fang Xuan's arms, Huang Yaoshi's expression changed. It felt as though his fleshy palms had struck steel, achieving not the slightest effect.