Meeting Again

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After chatting with Aunt for a while longer, Wang Anfeng finally left the house. The county seat was not far from Wangxian County's seat. In ancient times, when the Xuanyuan clan rode dragons into the heavens, the ministers had clung to the dragons' scales and attained immortality. This county seat bordered the county seat and could be considered to have clung to the dragon and phoenix, so its prosperity was truly beyond that of ordinary county seats—not to mention the tiny Great Liang Village. The entire way was a riot of color and prosperity, but he merely looked around and did not linger.

Wang Anfeng had already asked Aunt about it in detail. He knew that after leaving the city, a great river flowed through the area barely a dozen miles to the north. Drooping willows lined both banks, and secluded places were plentiful. With the foundation of the Shaolin Vigorous Step Technique, he traveled there at a brisk pace, and sure enough, the murmuring sound of water reached his ears. Though the scenery was alluring, it was quite far from the city, and most residents were busy making a living. There was truly no one around.

He found a secluded place, took a deep breath, and slowly assumed his stance. Then he performed the thirty-two forms of Shaolin Long Fist, which he had long since committed to heart. Its forms were rigorous, powerful, and imposing. Though it was merely a simple introductory set of Fist techniques, it still gave off an extraordinary impression. After completing the routine in a flash, he stood still and pondered for a moment before starting again. The character of his punches changed drastically. The connections between his moves were somewhat strange and comical, yet now and then there came a stroke of divine inspiration, with abrupt and fierce moves appearing like thunder exploding across level ground.

Though it lacked seamless harmony, it excelled at offense, like a solitary peak rising steeply from the earth, making the heart tremble in sudden alarm. After going through it several times, he stopped once more and furrowed his brows in thought, then began practicing the original thirty-two forms again. Though they flowed seamlessly, something else seemed to be gestating within them, making them subtly different from the original. As he repeated the routine, his fists roared through the air and stirred fallen leaves. His momentum piled upon itself like a fierce tiger roaring deep in the mountains—powerful and vast.

Suddenly, the character of his punches changed again. The order remained that of the thirty-two forms, but they had become much lighter, completely different from before. One after another, they were even more dazzling. Suddenly, a loud voice of praise came from outside the woods:

"Excellent Fist techniques! Excellent Fist techniques!"

Wang Anfeng was startled, and his fists stopped at once. He turned his head and saw a handsome youth about his age stepping out, his face filled with delighted admiration. Wang Anfeng could not help pausing in surprise before exclaiming:

"It's you!"

"Who else could it be but me, Brother Wang?"

The youth was the same one Wang Anfeng had seen at the cold-tea stall. Back then, he had worn a blue cloth robe, but now the robe had been replaced by a silver-gray round-collared gown embroidered with a crane spreading its wings. It had lost a measure of refinement but gained three measures of nobility. Hearing this, he smiled, then clasped his fists and said seriously, "It's a great taboo in the martial world to spy on someone else practicing martial arts. I should have left, but seeing your moves so powerful and seamless made my heart itch. That's why I came out to spar with you. I hope you won't take offense."

"Of course, since I watched you practice, I naturally can't take advantage of you. Your Fist techniques are well-practiced, but your footwork seems a little stiff. I have a Nine Palaces Step here. It isn't particularly profound, but it will benefit you greatly in your future martial practice. Watch closely."

Wang Anfeng raised a hand to stop him. "Wait. Hold on."

The youth raised his brows curiously. "What is it? Do you have some instruction for me, Brother Wang?" Wang Anfeng shook his head. "No. It's just that you only watched me practice a few moves, yet you're willing to teach me a complete footwork technique. That would be too great a loss for you."

The youth was slightly taken aback, then smiled. "This footwork is merely a basic Daoist art, and many people know it. Your Fist techniques, on the other hand, are powerful yet seamless as one, worthy of a grandmaster's hand. They are an unbreakable martial art. To glimpse even a part of it means I've already gained a great deal. Besides..." He chuckled. "Watch this footwork closely."

As he spoke, he lifted the hem of his robe, slowed his movements, and stepped through the footwork while reciting:

"Heaven and earth avoid the truth, roots and branches conceal; through the void we flash, advancing like the wind."

"The Four Symbols turn, revealed beyond the heavens; forward or backward, the Nine Palaces are sought without cease."

"The startled-bow steps conceal their final mystery; stamp across the eight directions, and the momentum stands like a fortress."

He went back and forth through the steps several times. Since they were not complicated, and Wang Anfeng had read some books from a young age, he easily committed them to memory. After silently recalling and reciting them several times, he raised his eyes and saw the handsome youth standing before him with a smiling expression, watching him. There was not the slightest trace of impatience on his face, and Wang Anfeng did not know how long he had been waiting. He raised his hands and clasped his fists, saying somewhat awkwardly:

"Thank you."

The youth clasped his fists and smiled. "No need to thank me." Then he crossed his fists and drew them into a fighting stance. "I've learned a few rough Fist techniques myself. Now, Brother Wang, please let me see this set of punches."

Wang Anfeng nodded slightly and did not hesitate. He waved his hands and assumed the opening stance of Shaolin Long Fist. "This is Shaolin Temple's Shaolin Long Fist. Please advise me."

"Please!"

The two faced each other as the atmosphere gradually grew tense. Suddenly, a cool breeze swept past, stirring the willow leaves as they hovered between falling and remaining on the branches. A sharp glint flashed through Wang Anfeng's eyes. His internal energy circulated, and he abruptly strode forward, delivering a straightforward Center-Level Palm.

The force of his charge and the twisting power of his spine poured entirely into his right palm, reaching all the way to his fingertips. It pointed at the youth's throat like a steel blade, fierce and chilling. Yet the youth remained calm. He retreated a step, and his ten fingers interlaced like flowers or brushed lightly across the strings of a qin, landing one after another on Wang Anfeng's palm and dispersing all its force into softness.

Wang Anfeng was astonished by the move's elegant ease and power. This was originally only a friendly spar, with neither victory nor defeat at stake, but for some reason an unwillingness to lose rose in his heart. According to the routine, he should have followed with Reverse Elbow Break, but he felt faintly dissatisfied. Moreover, his internal energy had broken through, and the vast feeling from last night—of stars hanging over the wilderness and the moon surging upon the great river—still clogged his chest and had yet to disperse. His footwork suddenly changed.

His body moved like the surging Yangtze. His left foot advanced, drawing back like a battle bow. His weakened right palm did not follow the original path. Instead, his five fingers curled like a tiger's claws and slashed diagonally past the youth's pale neck, almost grazing it, serving as a feint. His left hand then rotated out from beneath his ribs and smashed straight toward the vital point below the abdomen and ribs. This move was completely different from the upright, seamless style of his previous punches. It carried several traces of the fierce killing moves of Yuan Ci.

The youth let out a soft sound of surprise. His feet performed the Nine Palaces Step he had just demonstrated, landing in the Qian Palace before he drifted lightly around behind Wang Anfeng and avoided the vicious move.

Their energies drew together. Wang Anfeng's mind was focused, and he changed moves almost instinctively. Keeping his right foot still as the central axis, he spun violently and struck with his elbow, fierce and powerful. The hem of his short robe gave a sharp explosive crack. Beside him, the youth's sleeves swept lightly through the air. One was hard and the other soft, dancing like the two poles of yin and yang. It was another stroke of divine inspiration, sealing off the next step of the youth's Nine Palaces Step.

To avoid it, the youth could only retreat. Yet he seemed to have been roused by the heroic spirit in his heart as well. With a light laugh, he advanced instead of retreating. He raised his arm, and his fist changed from elegant ease to heavy grandeur, meeting this punch head-on before thrusting straight at Wang Anfeng's throat.

Wang Anfeng was slightly startled. The youth had struck while his new strength had yet to arise. Wang Anfeng had forced his opponent into a dead end, but he himself had also fallen into peril, with almost nowhere left to retreat. At that moment, he suddenly remembered how his master had handled a similar situation the day before. His body instinctively withdrew half a step. His right hand used half the form of Step Back Elbow Strike, deflecting the youth's palm, while his left hand smashed downward, turning defense into offense. The youth let out another soft sound of surprise, with a hint of astonishment and delight, and laughed:

"Excellent, excellent! Truly excellent Fist techniques!"

Amid his light laughter, his palm techniques did not yield in the slightest and pressed forward in a fierce assault. In this quiet, deserted place lined with willows drooping over the riverbank, two youths of barely thirteen or fourteen—one dressed in blue short clothes, the other in luxurious attire—exchanged blows in a fierce clash of Fist techniques, their battle raising quite a commotion.