The monks of Shaolin Temple's previous Kong Generation had not appeared in the martial world for a very long time—at least several decades.
Though no one knew how powerful Kong Jian was, judging by the force of his attack and his status as a Shaolin Temple monk, he was clearly no weakling.
Su Xin, however, furrowed his brow. He was exceptionally perceptive in battle, and to him, Kong Jian's movements seemed somewhat rusty.
Most martial artists who went into seclusion focused on cultivating their own realms. Few shut themselves away to practice martial techniques, so after a long retreat, it was only natural for them to feel a little rusty when they fought again.
The Great Zhou's True Martial Realm powerhouse, Heavenly Venerable Douyuan Zhao Wunian, had been different. While in seclusion, he had constantly replayed scenes of battle in his mind, so that his combat strength would not decline too much.
Of course, few martial artists went to such lengths. For most who had already decided to enter seclusion, their realm was what mattered.
Kong Jian was just like that. His movements felt rusty, and he was a little slow.
The Soul Fusion Realm martial artists lacked Su Xin's keen eye and battle instincts, so they noticed nothing.
But some of the Yang Spirit Realm powerhouses present saw it clearly, and all frowned.
In a battle between martial artists of the same rank, the slightest difference could decide everything. One mistake was all an opponent needed to seize an opening.
And Mahasthamaprapta Master had clearly seized his.
Before Kong Jian's Buddhist beads could even fall, Mahasthamaprapta Master suddenly opened his mouth and recited a mantra. In an instant, Buddhist light burst forth, and a strange syllable rang from his lips like thunder. The beads, whose material was comparable to