Ouyang Feng remembered the martial arts his opponent had displayed in their exchange vividly, for he had personally experienced them more than once.
"But that man was clearly already dead..." Ouyang Feng stared at his opponent in uncertainty, utterly bewildered for a moment.
Song Qingshu's expression finally turned grave, and he could not help asking, "Brother Feng, how are you holding up?"
Ouyang Feng shook his head slightly and, gritting his teeth, managed to force out a few words. "Not well..."
It was far worse than not well. He could even feel his inner energy leaking wildly from within. Had he not spent these past years practicing the Nine Yin Manual in reverse, hastily shifting his acupoints, that single finger strike would likely have destroyed decades of his cultivation.
"One Yang Finger!"
Back then, Wang Chongyang had used the One Yang Finger to break Ouyang Feng's Toad Skill. It had taken him years of bitter training to restore it, so how could he fail to recognize this technique? This man was clearly not Master Yideng, nor was he one of the monks from Dali's Tianlong Temple. Moreover, neither Master Yideng nor Zen Master Kurong, the highest-ranked practitioner of the Tianlong Temple's One Yang Finger, could have seriously wounded him in a single move. Then who was this man? Once all the impossibilities had been ruled out, the answer was already obvious.
"Though Mr. Ouyang bears the title of Western Venom in the martial world, his conduct has never disgraced a grandmaster. He was once a figure of the highest caliber. Why has he now willingly sunk so low as to become a lackey of the Jin Dynasty barbarians?" the white-robed elder said in a deep voice.
Ouyang Feng's face burned. The inner energy within him was in complete chaos, leaving