Martial Virtue

The alley was dim. A coal-black cat stopped in its tracks, raised its ears, and listened to the commotion from the courtyard. Then it gracefully leaped onto the wall to watch the excitement.

"Just a slight test, and your inferior nature has already been exposed."

Yang Qingshan's face twisted with fury as he shouted, "Wang Chan was right. A thing like you truly deserves to die!"

"Heh... You've lost your mind!"

Chen Xuan's expression was as gloomy as stagnant water, and the back of his throat seemed to seethe with the taste of blood.

"Come!"

Before his voice had faded, Chen Xuan had already clenched his teeth and shot forward like a black thunderbolt. His disheveled hair whipped wildly behind him, while the cold wind roared like a blue dragon's growl.

In the blink of an eye, two figures who had both attained mastery on the martial path crashed into each other.

Yang Family Martial Hall practiced hard fists—fierce beyond measure and domineering to the extreme.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Their fierce fists and kicks collided in the air dozens of times in rapid succession, like the tolling of the Bronze Bell and Great Chime.

Chen Xuan was young and brimming with vigor, so his punches were faster. Catching the instant Master Yang paused, he immediately drove a ferocious hard punch through his defense, straight toward Master Yang's face.

A gap...

No!

He wasn't this old yet!

Chen Xuan's heart jolted. Cold sweat instantly seeped down his spine. His body shifted from extreme speed to utter stillness, his fist drawing back as he leaped away like a nimble crane.

Too late!

Master Yang's palm coiled around him like a python, clamping down on Chen Xuan's wrist. Then, with ruthless force, he drove a knee strike upward. If it landed, Chen Xuan would either die or be crippled.

I taught you that fist!

He knew exactly where the fist would go and exactly when it would strike!

Chen Xuan had no choice but to force his left hand back to defend. His entire arm, along with his whole chest, immediately went numb with pain, as though it had split apart.

"Come!"

Chen Xuan's brows drew tightly together. His fighting spirit had truly ignited. Instead of retreating in midair, he advanced, clamped five fingers around Master Yang's wrist, and violently pulled his body upward before bringing his head down in a clean, vicious headbutt.

"Clang!"

Yang Qingshan saw stars. His face was covered in blood, his bridge of the nose broken, and a muffled groan escaped his throat.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

The next moment, Chen Xuan's consummately precise fists came crashing down like a storm from all sides. They were so fast that Yang Qingshan's vision turned scarlet. The fists striking from every direction moved too quickly, becoming countless blurred afterimages. He could predict every move, yet he was actually too late to block them!

Yang Qingshan panicked. He used all his strength to defend against several attacks, then hurriedly retreated with trembling hands.

"The young have the advantage in fists. Your Yang Family Fist has surpassed its master..."

"You taught me well, Master Yang."

Chen Xuan gave a cold laugh and did not pursue him. The two stared at each other from several yards apart, rapidly adjusting their chaotic breathing.

It had been a mutual probe—retreating the instant they touched, yet incomparably fierce. Both had suffered serious injuries. If either of them had been replaced by an ordinary martial artist, that person would probably have died ten times over during a probe at this level.

Snow pellets suddenly began to fall from the sky.

It was snowing.

Yang Qingshan tongued out a bloodstained tooth and spat it out casually. Then he suddenly said:

"But I still have an Ancient Fist Art you've never learned."

His body sank slightly. Then he assumed a fist stance that Chen Xuan—and every other disciple in the martial hall—had never seen before. It had returned to simplicity and radiated an oppressive presence.

This fist art was called Mountain Suppression Fist.

He had never taught it to anyone. It was specifically designed to counter the other fist arts taught by Yang Family Martial Hall. It was a killing move he had deliberately kept hidden!

"Chen Xuan, you won't be able to withstand this Mountain Suppression Fist..."

Sparse snowflakes drifted down from the sky, while the cold wind sliced through the air like a knife.

"Heh..."

Chen Xuan glanced at that flawless, naturally formed stance, then raised his head and watched the icy snowflakes land on his face. His eyes grew hazy for an instant. He tilted his head and suddenly smiled.

"I seem to remember that it snowed like this three years ago too... Master Yang, I don't know what happened. But if you're willing to ask me, I should be able to explain."

"What's this? You're afraid now? Afraid you'll die beneath this fist art!"

Yang Qingshan roared, a trace of mockery flashing through his eyes.

This disciple had ultimately disappointed him. His backbone was too soft. He had once even wanted to marry his youngest daughter to him, nearly causing a terrible mistake.

Fortunately, his other good disciple, Wang Chan, had helped him see the truth and turn back before it was too late!

Chen Xuan paid no attention to the mockery. Instead, he asked seriously:

"Master Yang, have you ever truly thought about what you would do if—just in case, one chance in ten thousand—you lost tonight? What would you do... and what would you have me do?"

"What a joke!"

Yang Qingshan sneered with the fierce confidence of a Great Figure who had occupied the heights for many years. "Twenty years ago, I was the foremost martial artist in all of Willow Town!"

"Fine. I understand."

Having received the old man's final answer, Chen Xuan slowly nodded. He drew a deep breath and once again assumed the basic fist stance known to every senior and junior disciple.

"From now on, you won't be."

"Boom!"

Wind and snow whipped wildly. The imposing figures of the two men soared to their peak in an instant and shot upward from the ground. This was a battle between the two strongest martial artists in Willow Town, and its ferocity surpassed everyone's imagination.

"Bang! Bang!"

The stone bricks underfoot split apart beneath a casual whip kick. The weapons rack shattered at the slightest contact during their clash, while sections of the courtyard wall collapsed, sending dust billowing everywhere...

The martial hall disciples fled in all directions in horror. If the battle touched them, they would either die or be crippled. That little junior sister Yang sobbed bitterly as she covered her head and fled in a panic.

Combat between martial artists of this level was far beyond them. Not only could they not interfere, even approaching was fraught with danger. Every heart was filled with boundless awe for the formidable strength Chen Xuan and Yang Qingshan were displaying.

"Master Yang's fist art has no weaknesses."

"It specifically counters the Yang Family Fist we learned... Senior Brother Chen is in trouble." A disciple with considerable skill saw what was happening.

"Senior Brother Chen didn't betray his master and ancestors! Father, don't force him! Stop, quickly!"

"..."

The senior and junior disciples hurried far away. Watching the two figures battle into a corner of the courtyard, they could vaguely see the younger figure rapidly falling into a disadvantage. He was forced to take several punches and found himself in peril at every turn.

"Clang!"

Yang Qingshan smashed an elbow into the courtyard wall, blasting a huge hole through it. Bricks and stones flew everywhere, and the black cat on the wall cried out and leaped away.

Chen Xuan retreated again and again until he was finally driven into the shadows at the corner.

Yang Qingshan said, "This Mountain Suppression Fist, my trump card, should originally have been passed on to you as well. But your talent was too high... I hesitated. I was afraid."

"Heh, afraid..."

Chen Xuan let out a quiet sigh and rubbed his numb fist.

In truth, after exchanging so many moves, he had already seen through seventy or eighty percent of the foundations of this fist art called Mountain Suppression Fist.

He was even confident enough now to perform a set of Mountain Suppression Fist with considerable resemblance to the original.

But none of that mattered anymore.

"Swish!"

At that moment, Chen Xuan lightly shook his wrist. A speck of grain-sized light flashed across his fist, and he lunged out of the corner on his own initiative.

"Master Yang, martial arts are killing arts."

The foundation of his stance was still similar to before—moves Master Yang could predict and completely withstand.

"..."

Yang Qingshan sighed inwardly. Even he could not continuously perform such standard, practiced moves during a fight... What astonishing talent. What a pity that it would be ruined here today.

A cold, ghostly edge suddenly flashed beneath the night sky.

It looked like a falling snowflake reflecting the moonlight.

At first, Yang Qingshan did not think anything of it. He roared and charged forward with the conviction to kill, his clenched fist surging out like a ferocious lion or tiger.

"Pfft!"

With the first punch, a cool, strange sensation brushed across the surface of his fist.

With the second, a sudden pain stabbed the side of his raised whip kick. It seemed that something hot and crimson was flowing out.

Then came the third punch, and the fourth...

"Pfft, pfft!"

The edge gleaming with ghostly light swept past Yang Qingshan's eyes. Fresh blood ran down from his forehead, followed by wounds across his chest, lower abdomen, shoulder, and even throat, where something salty and metallic began to seep out...

Chen Xuan's expression remained calm. His fists were still steady and powerful, pressing forward like a towering mountain that had never once moved.

His fists glimmered with a metallic sheen, drawing sharp crescent-like arcs through the wind and snow.

"Pfft!"

At that moment, terror filled Yang Qingshan's eyes. His strength poured out from every direction of his body. Bone-deep cold surged from his heart to the crown of his head.

Damn it!

Run!

In truth, Yang Qingshan had sensed that something was wrong from the second clash. He immediately tried to block.

It was useless.

Instead, a section of his little finger was flung away during his exchange with Chen Xuan, trailing a line of black blood.

That was a sharpness human flesh and blood could not withstand.

A weapon.

"Bang!"

Yang Qingshan was so terrified that his soul nearly left his body. His entire body was dyed red with blood. He shielded his vital points with both hands, retreated with all his strength, and lunged forward, smashing apart a weapons rack. But the other man immediately seized him by the head and forcibly dragged him back.

A massive shadow that seemed impossible to evade came sweeping over, devouring the heavens and earth!

"Pfft, pfft, pfft!"

Chen Xuan continued throwing punches. Each fist carved a black line across Yang Qingshan's back, spraying blood like ink blossoming in the air.

The old martial artist's struggles stopped.

Absolute silence.

After a brief silence, the Maiden's heart-rending, earth-shattering sobs erupted inside the martial hall.

Willow Town was not large. It had only one main street.

Pei's Tavern was the only tavern in town. It belonged to the old martial artist Pei Qing, who had challenged the martial hall today.

Long ago, when he realized he could advance no further in martial arts, he had used some less-than-honorable methods to take over this tavern.

"With that old monster Yang Qingshan in Willow Town, I'll never make a name for myself in martial arts."

Pei Qing often complained like this to his drinking companions in the past.

But today, he had changed his wording. "Three years—no, just two. A taller mountain named Chen Xuan is about to rise!"

On the first-floor main hall,

Pei Qing had one arm hanging in a sling before his chest. He was raising cups and drinking with a group of friends who enjoyed food and wine, his face flushed as he shouted:

"You don't practice martial arts, so you don't understand... Once you do, when you look up and see him as though the sun and moon were suspended in the sky, you'll feel despair..."

As he said this, his heart held several indescribably complicated emotions.

It was not resentment, but more like admiration, even a faint expectation. Ordinary people often felt this strange emotion when they encountered a true genius.

This road was full of hardships and dangers. I could go no farther, but you can...

"Heh, Old Pei refuses to admit he's decrepit, so he puts on airs and praises some obscure young man."

His companions at the table refused to believe him at all and burst into mocking laughter.

Who was Yang Qingshan?

The publicly acknowledged number-one expert, who had dominated Willow Town for twenty or thirty years.

How could he lose to some wet-eared brat within two or three years?

It was impossible.

Their teasing left Pei Qing's face livid. But soon, as a new table of customers arrived nearby, the atmosphere gradually became strange.

They were discussing the earth-shaking event that had occurred at Yang Family Martial Hall earlier. Since Willow Town was not large, the news had spread rapidly.

"Yang Qingshan... is probably dead..."

Pei Qing and his friends looked at one another, the atmosphere turning heavy. Pei Qing instinctively gulped down several mouthfuls of wine, finding it tasteless. "Using a weapon... Young people have no Martial Virtue."

"There's something fishy about this. People from Green Deer Mountain must be stirring things up behind the scenes."

His drinking companion cautiously pointed at the ceiling on the second floor and lowered his voice. "Master Yang went upstairs to drink earlier. The rumors say..."

"Shut up!"

Pei Qing's expression changed drastically. He hurriedly shouted, "Do you want to die too? Whatever those people are doing has nothing to do with us. Continue drinking!"

Green Deer Mountain...

A group of qi practitioners.

That Chen Xuan could only blame his ill-fated destiny and bad luck... Anyone who provoked Green Deer Mountain would meet a miserable end.

At one point,

Pei Qing drank his melancholy away while turning his head to look at the increasingly violent wind and snow outside the window. A layer of white frost covered the road, and there were no pedestrians left.

"The snow's getting heavier... Where else could he run?"

His gaze suddenly sharpened.

The wind and snow wove together like a curtain.

A figure appeared on the empty street. Silently wandering through the snowy night, the person looked up and down, inspecting every inch of the tavern. The sight made Pei Qing think of a ghostly monster prowling the darkness of the deep mountains, choosing someone to devour.

He had come here.

How dare he come here!

He had actually come here of his own accord!!!

"Swish!"

The young man's figure was gaunt but not frail. He turned his head slightly toward them, and his gaze locked onto them in an instant.

Cold.

Like a block of ice, devoid of any other emotion.

Pei Qing shuddered violently, horror surging through his heart. He instinctively lowered his head and pretended to pick up a piece of beef, but his entire arm was already trembling uncontrollably.

He's here.

He killed Yang Qingshan, and instead of fleeing, he actually came looking for those Qi Refiners from Green Deer Mountain.

This terrifying thought instantly arose in Pei Qing's mind... This young man named Chen Xuan had been driven into a corner. There was truly nothing he wouldn't do!

Young man, do you have to be this vicious?!

Pei Qing mechanically chewed the thin slice of beef. After a long while, he cautiously stole another glance out the window... The street was empty. That figure had vanished.

But the next moment.

"Whoosh!"

The restaurant's main doors were pushed open, and wind and snow swept through the hall.

A tall figure with traces of bloodstains on his clothes entered, his entire body covered in frost and snow.

Everyone's eyes snapped toward him.

That expressionless figure carried not the slightest hint of killing intent, yet he was as cold as a bone-piercing block of ice. He walked straight toward the stairs and went directly up to the second floor.

A few breaths later.

"Wang Chan—"

A deep, forceful voice rang out from the second floor, reverberating throughout the entire restaurant.