In the blink of an eye, the six men were locked in a chaotic battle. Swordlight flashed, palm winds filled the sky, and roaring claw winds joined the fray. The spectacle was dazzling, enough to make onlookers' eyes swim.
As befitted the leader of the Five Mountains Alliance, he unleashed fierce Purple Mist sword energy from the very start, holding off two opponents alone while gaining the upper hand.
But Ning Qingyu couldn't feel pleased with himself. Having the upper hand didn't mean he could win right away, while the two Mount Hua elders holding off the other old monk were already in grave danger.
Judging by the situation, the two of them would likely lose within two hundred moves. Without those two allies to keep the others in check, he had no chance of defeating three opponents alone.
Ning Qingyu was already beginning to regret his decision. If he'd known things would turn out this way, he never should have entertained the hope of negotiating with Shaolin Temple. Had this battle taken place before Feng Qingyang left, the situation would have been entirely different.
Unfortunately, though all kinds of remedies existed in this world, there was no cure for regret. After glancing around the battlefield, Ning Qingyu steeled himself, leapt into the air, and shouted, "Take this hidden weapon!"
Several misshapen pieces of silver flew from his sleeve, glinting in the sunlight as though they were some fearsome hidden weapon. The two old monks hurriedly dodged.
In that instant, Ning Qingyu had already slipped away, dashing toward the other battle.
The two old monks realized they'd been tricked, but by the time they reacted, it was too late.
Without the slightest hesitation, the two seasoned veterans chose to besiege Wei to rescue Zhao, launching attacks against the other two Mount Hua elders.
Worried for his two fellow disciples, Ning Qingyu hesitated for the briefest moment, and his sword slowed by a fraction.
That hesitation gave Ben Yin the opening he needed. He unleashed Eagle Claw Skill with all his might, forcibly snapping the sharp sword embedded in his body.
Even without a sword in hand, Ning Qingyu was still one of the greatest martial artists under heaven. If he'd followed up with a palm strike, the gravely wounded Ben Yin would surely have died.
He hesitated for a moment, and in the end, his palm never fell. As the leader of the Mount Hua Sect, Ning Qingyu had to consider the bigger picture. Killing Ben Yin now would mean a complete break with Shaolin Temple.
Threatening and blustering was one thing; truly fighting Shaolin Temple to the bitter end was another. The Mount Hua Sect wasn't prepared for that. Ning Qingyu wouldn't take that step unless absolutely necessary.
Perhaps it was an unspoken understanding between great powers, or perhaps both sides had their reservations. Ning Qingyu didn't strike a fatal blow against Ben Yin, and the other two old monks likewise only injured the Mount Hua elders.
The murderous tension seemed to ease somewhat, but the battle still had to be decided. Without another word, the three clashed again.
Being without a sword still affected Ning Qingyu's strength. When masters fought, victory hinged on the slightest difference. Where he'd had a clear advantage against the two before, he was now being suppressed.
Compared with before, Ning Qingyu was surprisingly calm now that he was at a disadvantage. The Mount Hua palm techniques, little known in the martial world, had become transcendent in his hands.
Though not as fierce as Shaolin's Great Vajra Palm, they excelled in grace and fluidity, and were in no way inferior to any of the supreme arts. They perfectly proved the saying: There are no useless martial arts, only useless people.
Having grasped Ning Qingyu's true intentions, the two old monks furrowed their brows even more deeply. This Mount Hua leader before them was not only highly skilled, but also shrewd and calculating—a formidable foe unlike any they'd encountered in their lives.
If the fight dragged on like this, they might collapse before a victor could even be decided.
The two exchanged a glance, their expressions suddenly grave, as though they'd reached a momentous decision.
In the next instant, a thunderous shout rang out, as if a peal of thunder had rolled down from the heavens. Ben Chen drove Great Vajra Palm to its utmost limit, his attack surging like a gale and flashing like lightning, with the hidden aspect of a dragon soaring to the heavens.
Almost at the same time, Ben Wu unleashed Patra Leaf Finger at full power. His fingers filled the sky, radiating a strange suction. Anyone standing before him felt as though they were facing a colossal whirlpool, its movements at once horizontal and vertical, curved and straight as he pleased.
"Can that even be called a finger technique?"
Ning Qingyu asked himself.
Forget dodging—even an ordinary person would find it incredibly difficult to meet this attack head-on.
Ning Qingyu was no ordinary person, but he still couldn't dodge it. He could only grit his teeth and take it head-on.
He drove Purple Mist Divine Skill to its limit and met the two old monks at full strength. With a deafening boom, all three were sent flying like sacks of sand.
"Leader!"
The two Mount Hua elders, who had been channeling their energy to heal their injuries, cried out in unison. Their breathing faltered, and thin trails of blood appeared at the corners of their mouths.
They paid no heed to their own injuries and hurried to help Ning Qingyu up, then channeled a thread of inner strength into him.
The two old monks who had won were in no better shape. The cold sweat on their foreheads, the blood at the corners of their mouths, and their trembling bodies all showed that they'd been gravely wounded.
The two sides showed remarkable tacit understanding. Neither paid the other any mind; they simply sat in silence and tended to their own wounds.
After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Ning Qingyu slowly came to and said, "Don't worry. I'm not dead yet."
"Your three masters' martial arts are formidable... The Mount Hua Sect admits defeat this time. But what have I done to deserve two masters going so far as to..."
Ben Chen had mostly stabilized his injuries and regained his usual composure. "Benefactor Ning is too modest. Throughout the entire martial world, there is no one who can stand shoulder to shoulder with you.
"If you swear that the Mount Hua Sect will never set its sights on Luoyang or Bashu again, then today's matter ends here. What do you say?"
Ning Qingyu wasn't surprised by this outcome. The martial world belonged to the strong; defeat came at a price.
If the Mount Hua Sect hadn't still possessed power enough to make Shaolin wary, the three of them would likely have died in a staged 'Demonic Cult attack' by now, without even the chance to negotiate.
"Now that things have come to this, how could I be so unreasonable as to refuse? I accept your terms, Master. However, I can only guarantee that the Mount Hua Sect won't set its sights on Luoyang or Bashu during my lifetime.
"As for the younger generation, I won't be around then. I doubt a failed leader's promise will have much force."
He might admit defeat, but Ning Qingyu couldn't bring himself to cut off the Mount Hua Sect's path to growth just to save his own life.
His promise for the rest of his life was made purely out of necessity. After this defeat, the Mount Hua Sect wouldn't recover for at least eight or ten years.
With his injuries, he might not even live another eight or ten years. By the time the sect rallied its strength again, he would probably already be pushing up daisies, so he wouldn't be breaking his oath.
After giving it some thought, Ben Chen nodded. "Very well. I'll agree on behalf of Shaolin Temple. As long as your Mount Hua Sect doesn't venture beyond Guanzhong, Shaolin Temple won't pursue the matter of Luoyang any further."
After watching the three Mount Hua men depart, Ben Yin said reluctantly, "Senior Brother, doesn't that make it far too easy for..."
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