The Villain Little Meng (Seeking Clicks and Recommendations)

Puff, puff, puff—each strike landed like a fist against worn leather, the sound echoing through the dry, cold air.

Meng Qi knew he was far inferior to Zhen Miao and had long prepared himself mentally for defeat, but once the fight began, he realized the gap was even larger than he'd imagined—even with Zhen Miao suppressing his strength to Minor Qi Accumulation, even using only the Arhat Fist.

Aware that Meng Qi had just begun practicing the "Iron Cloth Shirt," Zhen Miao's punches were precise and fierce, each aimed at Meng Qi's vital points like the temples and eyes. He showed no impatience at the openings Meng Qi deliberately exposed, refusing to trade a minor injury for a major one. Even when presented with an absolute opportunity, as long as it didn't target a vital point, he held back at least half his strength for defense.

Though Meng Qi had gained some grasp of the Arhat Fist through continuous actual combat, facing a true master like Zhen Miao—whose moves were both swift and accurate—he still felt his mind reaching where his eyes hadn't, or his eyes seeing what his hands couldn't follow. If not for the Iron Cloth Shirt absorbing several blows, he would have lost long ago. The puffing sounds were Zhen Miao's strikes landing on him.

None of these hits struck a vital spot, but under the relentless assault, Meng Qi still felt a dull ache spreading through him.

Still, this battle brought Meng Qi immense gains. He felt the Arhat Fist's forms and changes rapidly becoming an instinct of his own body.

He couldn't help silently thanking Jiang Zhiwei for her advice. If she hadn't told him to exchange for the Iron Cloth Shirt, this Iron Body Skill, when he was weak and inexperienced in combat, he would have needed countless failed sparring sessions to master a single fist technique. Now, with the Iron Cloth Shirt as his foundation, one sparring session was equivalent to many failures, allowing him to slowly calm down and internalize the fist technique into instinct.

Zhen Miao's fists whipped through the air with disciplined ferocity, step by step forcing Meng Qi into a corner, leaving him no chance to gamble with the Iron Cloth Shirt!

"No, I have to think of something. A few more moves and I won't be able to hold out..." Relying on the Iron Cloth Shirt and knowing this wasn't a life-or-death fight, Meng Qi didn't panic, instead desperately seeking a counterattack.

Suddenly, he noticed a clear gap on Zhen Miao's left side during this round of attacks—an opening that would let him temporarily break free from the frontal assault and catch his breath!

This time, Meng Qi's mind and feet moved together. He feinted and dodged to the left.

The moment he moved, a leg wrapped in white bindings shot out from nowhere, kicking straight at his lower abdomen.

Damn it! Meng Qi cursed inwardly, hurriedly twisting his body to evade the leg. At that instant, a gust of wind brushed past his ear, and a fist stopped right beside his temple, the force of the punch making his head ache.

"You yield," Zhen Miao said, withdrawing his right fist and pressing his palms together. A faint smile flickered across his face, as if he took great satisfaction in washing away yesterday's humiliation.

Meng Qi reviewed his mistakes and summed up his gains while returning the courtesy: "Thank you for the guidance, Senior Brother."

Regardless of Zhen Miao's motives, this sparring session had been immensely helpful to him.

Suddenly, a flash of insight struck him. Thinking back to the opening Zhen Miao had deliberately shown, he realized that if he had used that one step from the Eight Steps of Divine Travel, he could have completely avoided the leg sweep and instead drawn out Zhen Miao's real weakness.

The thought had barely formed when Meng Qi blurted out, "Senior Brother Zhen Miao, I'd like to ask for your guidance again tomorrow." Ah, I'm still not familiar enough with the Eight Steps of Divine Travel—I only thought of it now!

Huh? The other martial monks seemed not to have heard clearly, turning to look at Meng Qi in surprise. He still dared to challenge Senior Brother Zhen Miao?

"If you can't withstand ten of my moves tomorrow, don't ever speak of guidance again." Zhen Miao paused for a moment, then nodded slowly.

On the way to the dining hall.

"Tsk, have you gotten addicted to getting beaten?" Zhen Yong stared at Meng Qi as if he didn't recognize him, looking him up and down.

Zhenhui looked at Zhen Yong in confusion: "Senior Brother Zhen Yong, isn't that what great heroes do? Never admit defeat!"

Zhen Yong shot Meng Qi a strange look. What kind of weird stories have you been telling Little Junior Brother again?

Knowing his behavior was too odd, Meng Qi didn't hide it: "Senior Brother Zhen Yong, I just thought of a special move I could have used in that situation, so it slipped out."

"You're not familiar with that special move? You only thought of it after the sparring ended..." Zhen Yong caught the hidden meaning in Meng Qi's words.

Meng Qi nodded, then mused, "I'll have to go to the Martial Arts Hall later to find someone to practice with."

After the evening meal, Meng Qi sat in meditation practicing the Shaolin Heart Method for a while, then eagerly stepped into the Martial Arts Hall.

He swept his gaze around and a smile crept onto his face—he spotted Zhen Liang sparring with another monk, his expression ferocious, his attacks savage, as if trying to vent all the frustration and anger from yesterday.

Meng Qi slowed his pace and circled around. That monk was outmatched and overwhelmed by Zhen Liang's momentum, soon taking punch after punch until his face was black and swollen.

"Haha." Zhen Liang watched the monk stagger out the door and let out a cheerful laugh. But just then, he felt a heavy shove from behind, sending him stumbling forward to crash into another monk.

"Well, well, Junior Brother, you're getting bolder by the day, daring to ram me with your back. Come on, let's have a go."

That detestable, hateful voice! Zhen Liang's body tensed. He turned slowly, wanting to talk tough, but the words that came out were, "Senior Brother, I already have an opponent."

"Oh? I just saw him leave. Tell you what, I'll give you the time it takes to burn a stick of incense to catch your breath." Meng Qi said with a grin. With his delicate, jade-carved features, his smile was quite handsome, but to Zhen Liang's eyes, it was like a demon's.

Zhen Liang looked around and saw that aside from a few monks friendly to him, everyone else stood far away. He had some sense of loyalty and didn't want to drag his friends into it, so he gritted his teeth and said, "Senior Brother, let's start now!"

Seeing Zhen Liang's expression of wanting to get it over with, Meng Qi smiled, then his face turned serious. He let out a loud shout and attacked first.

After the time it takes to burn a stick of incense.

"Senior Brother, I surrender! I surrender, alright?" Zhen Liang lay on the ground like a dead dog, unwilling to get up.

Meng Qi touched his faint stubble and nodded with a satisfied smile: "Alright."

At least that one step from the Eight Steps of Divine Travel was now truly familiar. As long as Zhen Yong didn't use any martial arts beyond the Arhat Fist, he could give him a real "surprise"!

Hearing Meng Qi's words, Zhen Liang felt as if pardoned. He scrambled to his feet and fled toward the door.

After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and forced a calm tone: "My elder brother is a Disciplinary Monk in the Discipline Institute."

"Oh? Running to tattle to your parents now?" Meng Qi said with a half-smile.

His oddly phrased reply caught Zhen Liang completely off guard, leaving him stunned and unsure how to respond.

With the life-or-death pressure and abundant resources of the Reincarnation World backing him, Meng Qi wasn't too concerned about a Disciplinary Monk. He chuckled: "Senior Brother here is named Zhen Yong. I walk straight and act right. If I break the precepts, I'll accept punishment willingly. Junior Brother, aren't you leaving? Want to keep practicing?"

Zhen Liang was so frightened he scrambled away, having never seen anyone in his year-plus of "ruling" the Martial Arts Hall who wasn't afraid of a Disciplinary Monk!

"Zhen... Zhen Yong? Junior Brother, are you sick?" Zhen Yong beside him asked with a blank expression. Why would he call himself Zhen Yong?

Meng Qi glanced at him: "Just having a little fun. Our builds and faces are different enough that no one will mistake us."

Ah, no one appreciates humor. How boring.

The next day, after training ended, Meng Qi couldn't wait to stand up and saluted: "I request Senior Brother's guidance."

Zhende and the other martial monks had been waiting for this from the start, but when it actually happened, they still found it unbelievable. Had Zhending's brain been gnawed by a dog? He actually dared to challenge Senior Brother Zhenmiao consecutively!

Could it be that the day before, relying on Senior Brother Zhenmiao not knowing his true skill, he won by luck, and now thought he was on equal footing with a suppressed-strength Senior Brother Zhenmiao?

He didn't know his place!

Yesterday was the true display of the gap!

Zhenmiao pulled a long face, nodded, set his stance, and waited for Meng Qi to make his move.

This sparring session was much like yesterday's. Although Meng Qi's grasp of the Arhat Fist had deepened, the gap with Zhenmiao was still enormous. He only managed to take a few fewer punches. Gradually, he fell into the same situation as the day before, slowly cornered into a dead end by the unhurried Zhenmiao.

"See? Where does he get the confidence to challenge Senior Brother Zhenmiao?" This battle situation made Zhende very happy.

"Yeah, he simply doesn't know his place!" Another monk chimed in. They always had an instinctive rejection of peers who acted out of line. "In a moment, Senior Brother Zhenmiao will definitely win like yesterday!"

"Winning is certain, but Senior Brother Zhenmiao is always cautious. He definitely won't use that same trick from yesterday." Zhende said with confidence.

Meng Qi didn't wait for Zhenmiao to show that opening. Instead, when Zhenmiao's left shoulder dipped slightly, he suddenly used his shoulder to take the punch head-on and forcefully struck at Zhenmiao's right side.

Zhenmiao had kept some strength in reserve and hadn't fully committed to his move. He smoothly shifted aside, dodging Meng Qi's lunge, and delivered a double strike to the temples.

Suddenly, his vision blurred—Meng Qi had vanished!

It wasn't that Meng Qi was too fast, but that in his crouch and spin, the direction and position he chose completely defied Zhenmiao's expectations. It was so bizarre that Zhenmiao's attention couldn't keep up, creating the illusion that Meng Qi had disappeared.

Damn it! The thought had barely formed when Meng Qi, having pivoted and turned, was already past him, their backs facing each other.

At the same time, Meng Qi's right elbow shot backward, slamming hard into Zhenmiao's back.

Thud! Meng Qi's elbow hit Zhenmiao's back, but it felt like striking empty air. He half-turned his head and saw from the corner of his eye that Zhenmiao's monk robe had puffed up, absorbing most of the force.

That's not something a Qi-Gathering stage cultivator can do! Meng Qi's Heart Moved. He smoothly withdrew his hand and smiled in acknowledgment: "You yielded, Senior Brother. Truly formidable."

Zhenmiao's face was ashen, furious at losing again: "We'll fight again tomorrow."

His tone carried a sense of unwillingness, as if he now truly regarded Meng Qi as a worthy opponent.

Their exchange had been so swift and dazzling that Zhende and the other monks hadn't even reacted before victory and defeat were decided. For a moment, they stood dumbfounded, staring at Zhenmiao and Meng Qi, feeling as if it were all a dream, utterly unreal.

After a while, the looks they gave Meng Qi genuinely shifted to one of respect and wariness.

No matter what tricks he used, being able to defeat Senior Brother Zhenmiao twice meant Zhending definitely had something special!

"Impressive! I can hardly believe you only learned the Arhat Fist a short while ago." After training ended, Zhen Yong caught up to Meng Qi and Zhenhui, looking at him as if seeing him anew.

Meng Qi was a bit smug and boasted without shame: "This Junior Brother has a bit of martial talent."

He couldn't exactly mention the Reincarnation World.

"Are you going to the Martial Arts Hall later?" Zhen Yong asked.

Meng Qi nodded firmly: "Of course, I still need to prepare for tomorrow's spar with Senior Brother Zhenmiao."

After the evening meal and internal energy practice, Meng Qi stepped into the Martial Arts Hall with his usual routine.

The moment he entered, he saw Zhen Liang tense up, pull over a nearby monk to spar, and start moving slowly, as if he wanted to keep going until the end of time.

The other monks close to Zhen Liang also quickly found partners to spar with, denying Meng Qi any chance to "provoke" them.

"How do I feel like a thug who bullies men and women..." Meng Qi muttered after a moment of silence. Heh, not a bad feeling!

Zhen Yong was quite cooperative this time, chuckling: "The wicked monk Zhending!"

Over the following month, Meng Qi spent his days in a cycle of challenges and counter-challenges with Zhenmiao, losing more than winning. At night, he trained in the Martial Arts Hall. By the second half of the month, he felt the monks there were no longer a challenge, so he entered the sparring hall, got beaten black and blue, but loved every moment of it, because his internal energy, fist techniques, and saber skills were improving remarkably!

"Tonight, you will guard the Back Mountain passage." At noon that day, Xuan Chi came to announce a task.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, Zhenmiao explained: "The Back Mountain suppresses the demons and monsters that Shaolin has subdued over the years. It needs constant guarding. Don't worry, the senior martial uncles from the Damo Courtyard and Bodhi Courtyard are on the inner perimeter. You're just patrolling the outer area for basic vigilance."

Demons and monsters? Meng Qi drew a sharp breath.