Sparring

Hearing Zhen Miao's instruction, Zhende was momentarily stunned, then a grin spread across his face as he strode forward: "Yes, Senior Brother Zhen Miao."

Over half a year of martial training and ample food had made him shoot up in height, with dark stubble dotting his chin, his frame thick and burly. Looking at Meng Qi, who was two years younger, his eyes brimmed with eager, joyful anticipation.

Meng Qi bared his teeth, not expecting Zhen Miao to be so serious, but he didn't mind sparring. Right now, he was frantically seeking any chance to fight, to gradually master and integrate "Iron Cloth Shirt," "Eight Steps of Divine Travel," "Arhat Fist," and "Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique" through real combat.

"I humbly request Senior Brother Zhende's guidance." Meng Qi followed Shaolin's rules, addressing Zhende, who was older than him, as senior brother, while planting his feet apart and steadying himself in the opening stance of Arhat Fist.

Zhende opened his mouth as if to say something, but in his excitement, he forgot his lines for a moment. He even forgot to press his palms together and chant a Buddha's name. Instead, just like in practice, he let out a "heh-ha" and struck directly with the standard "Arhat Greets the Buddha."

The moment Zhende attacked, Meng Qi felt as if he'd plunged into water, all other sounds and sights fading away. Drawing on his experience fighting Cheng Yong, he half-turned to avoid the direct assault, one hand parrying Zhende's fists while the other struck fiercely toward Zhende's lower abdomen.

Not only did he show no novice's hesitation or fear in his first sparring match, but he was exceptionally aggressive and proactive.

Zhende, having launched his attack, was about to follow up with the next move when he suddenly felt a gust of force bearing down on him, as if Meng Qi had thrown his whole body forward.

Faced with this fierce onslaught, seeing Meng Qi's unyielding, battle-hungry face, Zhende felt an inexplicable chill in his heart. He sensed a trace of terrifying killing intent from "Zhending"—the kind of aura that only came from real life-and-death combat.

His movements faltered, and with a smack, Meng Qi struck him in the stomach. The pain was unbearable, and he curled up on the ground, letting out pained groans.

Too weak? Meng Qi was a bit stunned by his instant victory. He'd barely launched his attack, and the guy couldn't hold up? Was he really that weak?

Not only was Meng Qi surprised, but the surrounding martial monks like Zhen Yong stared in shock at Zhende curled on the ground, unable to believe that Zhende, usually a standout in sparring, had lost so quickly and so miserably.

Zhen Miao's face was as dark as water as he watched. He strode quickly to Zhende, crouched down, and used his internal energy to soothe the meridians in Zhende's abdomen, easing his pain.

Only then did Zhen Yong and the others snap out of it, casting astonished glances at Meng Qi. They thought to themselves, Originally, Senior Brother Zhen Yong had Zhende teach Zhending a lesson, to show him the downside of unorthodox moves. But now it looks like the orthodox moves lost to the unorthodox ones...

Meng Qi replayed the brief exchange in his mind, keenly noticing that Zhende had seemed to freeze for an instant under his fierce assault: "Could it be that suppressing someone with momentum is a key part of combat?"

Zhen Miao helped Zhende to his feet and said expressionlessly, "Zhen He, you'll spar with Zhending."

"Yes, Senior Brother Zhen Miao." A burly youth stepped out from the ranks of monks, standing there like a black iron tower.

Meng Qi had vaguely grasped the key to the previous exchange and was eager for someone to test his theory on. He excitedly pressed his palms together: "I humbly request Senior Brother Zhen He's guidance."

After Zhen He returned the greeting, Meng Qi struck first, like a fierce tiger charging from its den.

Zhen He, naturally strong, hadn't expected Meng Qi to attack so ferociously. His planned routines couldn't be executed smoothly. He kept retreating, kept blocking head-on, looking flustered.

Ha!

Meng Qi pressed his advantage, exhaling sharply and delivering a desperate, chest-level strike.

Faced with such a fierce Meng Qi, Zhen He's legs suddenly felt weak, and his hands, forming a defensive guard, were knocked open.

Meng Qi smoothly withdrew his fist, pivoted, and leaned into Zhen He's chest, driving an elbow backward into Zhen He's right ribs.

Cough, cough, cough. Meng Qi had pulled his strength on this strike, knowing victory was assured, but it still knocked Zhen He's breath off rhythm, sending him into a violent coughing fit.

"You're too kind." Meng Qi pushed off the ground, turned, and stepped back, pressing his palms together with a slight smile.

Now that's what I call a satisfying spar!

The watching monks, Zhen Yong and Zhende, were slack-jawed. Zhen He, usually as tough as an ox, was their nightmare in sparring—no matter how clever the counter, he'd beat them until their hands went numb and their legs gave out. But just now, the kid-sized Zhending had beaten Zhen He like a mad tiger, leaving him utterly helpless.

That should be the other way around! The monks stared at Meng Qi's handsome face, unable to believe what they'd just seen.

Zhen He caught his breath, rubbed his bald head sheepishly, and said, "Junior Brother Zhending, you're amazing!"

Zhen Miao gave a light snort, his face growing darker. After a long silence, he said, "Junior Brother Zhending seems to come from a well-trained family. Your qi accumulation has made great progress. I'm afraid none of the junior brothers here are a match for you. I'll spar with you myself."

Having opened his Eye Apertures, he could tell that Meng Qi's movements were aided by internal energy.

Oh!

So that's it!

Zhen Yong and the other monks suddenly understood. So Junior Brother Zhending had already opened his Dantian and achieved minor success in qi accumulation. No wonder Zhende and Zhen He couldn't beat him!

But Senior Brother Zhen Miao, as their instructor and an Orifice Opening expert, directly sparring with Zhending—wasn't that too much of a bully?

"Don't worry, I'll keep my strength at the minor qi accumulation stage." Zhen Miao's gaze was sharp as lightning on Meng Qi.

Meng Qi took a light breath. Though he knew the gap was huge, his fighting spirit blazed. If he didn't even dare to spar, how could he handle real combat?

Honestly, having experienced life-and-death battles, he wasn't afraid of Zhen Miao. Losing was fine—as long as he could find the gap, find his own weaknesses, then even a loss was valuable.

And besides, he wasn't completely without a chance to win!

"I humbly request Senior Brother Zhen Miao's guidance." Meng Qi pressed his palms together, his fighting spirit thick.

The martial monks drew in a sharp breath. He actually dares to spar with Senior Brother Zhen Miao? The gap between them must be as high as a mountain! Even if Senior Brother Zhen Miao suppresses his strength to the minor qi accumulation stage, his eyesight, experience, and insight can't be changed!

"Good." Seeing that Meng Qi wasn't timid, Zhen Miao's expression softened slightly. "You attack first."

Meng Qi didn't stand on ceremony. He stepped forward with his right leg into a bow stance, both fists driving forward like hammers at Zhen Miao.

Zhen Miao also used "Arhat Fist." Facing Meng Qi's fierce assault, he held his ground steadily, not having his momentum stolen like Zhende and Zhen He. After deflecting Meng Qi's fists, he launched a counterattack, a plain "Black Tiger Steals the Heart" aimed precisely at Meng Qi's right chest.

Meng Qi's eyes went wide. Suddenly, he lunged forward, letting Zhen Miao's fist land on him while simultaneously striking at Zhen Miao with a "Twin Peaks Pierce the Ears."

Zhen Miao, with plenty of combat experience, sensed something wrong, but since Meng Qi had thrown himself forward, he couldn't pull back. He had no choice but to add more force to his fist, trying to knock Meng Qi back.

Thud. His right fist felt like it had hit thick cloth, the force dispersing in all directions. At that moment, Meng Qi's fists were almost touching both of Zhen Miao's temples.

Ha!

Zhen Miao suddenly let out a loud shout. His ears turned red, his temples bulged, and he leaned his head back slightly.

Slap!

Meng Qi's fists scraped past his temples and landed squarely on Zhen Miao's cheeks, but there seemed to be a cushion of air there that absorbed most of the force.

Even so, Zhen Miao staggered backward in disarray, his cheeks swollen and red, his head dizzy.

"You've mastered 'Iron Cloth Shirt'!" Zhen Miao shouted, both shocked and angry.

Meng Qi smiled faintly. "A family heirloom technique. Senior Brother just used Orifice Opening level strength, didn't you?"

Last night, "Iron Cloth Shirt" had already been exposed, so he had no need to hide it, simply attributing it to the unknown background he still didn't understand.

In the exchange just now, Meng Qi had fought entirely according to the strategy Zhang Yuanshan, Jiang Zhiwei, and the others had advised. With his martial arts far inferior to Zhen Miao's, he relied on the fact that his opponent didn't know he could use Iron Cloth Shirt and had suppressed his own strength. By striking fast against slow, trading small injuries for big ones, he successfully forced Zhen Miao into a corner, compelling him to use his full power to defend himself.

Zhen Miao's face shifted through several uncertain shades of gloom, then he said coldly, "Return to the ranks. Continue practicing Arhat Fist."

Meng Qi knew that Zhen Miao bore no personal grudge against him—he simply couldn't stand the sight of Meng Qi's sloppy Arhat Fist. He also knew that his own fist technique was flawed and needed correction point by point; Zhen Miao's words were not wrong. But having successfully defeated Zhen Miao and seen him look so deflated, Meng Qi couldn't suppress the joy in his heart. He was exceptionally pleased.

"I'm just that petty a person!" Meng Qi silently "evaluated" himself.

When they resumed fist practice, Meng Qi followed Zhen De, Zhen He, and the others, earnestly correcting his own technique. Seeing this, Zhen Miao's expression softened slightly again.

After both Arhat Fist and Shaolin Staff Technique were finished, Zhen Miao gave serious critiques one by one. Finally, as he turned to leave, he said, "Tomorrow, Zhending will continue sparring with me. I will still suppress my strength to the minor achievement of Qi Accumulation."

This guy's competitive streak is no joke... Meng Qi sighed inwardly, feeling a slight tremor run through him as his fighting spirit surged.

I'll have to make time tonight to practice "Eight Steps of Divine Travel."

He didn't want to lose either!

"Senior Brother Zhen Miao has always had smooth sailing. He's already practicing 'Maha Finger,' one of the Seventy-two Unique Skills, so naturally he's proud and arrogant. But today, he was beaten by you, a junior brother at minor achievement of Qi Accumulation—how could he swallow that?" Zhen Yong sidled over with a grin. "Junior Brother Zhending, I didn't know you were this impressive! Keeping your skills hidden! You'll have to look out for me in the future."

Meng Qi chuckled. "I only won by surprise. Tomorrow will probably be tough."

Unless he could master "Eight Steps of Divine Travel" overnight and catch his opponent off guard again—but that was unlikely.

Still, Meng Qi wasn't afraid. Opportunities to spar with a skilled opponent weren't easy to come by! This was a valuable asset. Maybe the next time he entered the Reincarnation World, the key to surviving would lie right here!

Meng Qi, Zhenhui, and Zhen Yong headed back toward the Warrior Monk Institute. At the entrance, they ran straight into Xuan Chi.

Beside Xuan Chi stood a dull-eyed, wooden-faced monk who was muttering to himself, "If this move is executed like this, how do I break it?"

Xuan Chi didn't introduce the young monk, who seemed lost in his own world. He said directly to Meng Qi and Zhenhui, "After the evening meal, come to the Martial Arts Hall. I will teach you the 'Shaolin Heart Method.'"

Meng Qi had heard from Xuan Xin that the "Shaolin Heart Method" was the Shaolin Temple's foundational internal art—mellow, vigorous, and Yang-aligned. Because its circulation path was simple and compatible with most ultimate techniques and divine skills, it could later be directly converted to other internal arts. Among similar basic techniques, it ranked in the top ten.

Thus, Meng Qi privately decided to make the "Shaolin Heart Method" his main practice, only using the crude path that came with "Iron Cloth Shirt" when activating that technique.

After watching Xuan Chi leave, Zhen Yong chuckled quietly. "Did you see that senior brother beside Martial Uncle Xuan Chi? That's another teaching monk, Senior Brother Zhen Ben. He's a martial arts fanatic—lots of funny stories about him..."

Chatting and laughing, the three had their evening meal. Meng Qi and Zhenhui headed to the Martial Arts Hall, while Zhen Yong, having nothing to do, tagged along, planning to find someone to spar with.