More Dizzying Than Being Hit by the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms

But a mere 22,300 points was nothing more than a moth flying into the flames in his eyes.

In less than thirty seconds, that man had not even managed to let out a scream before an ultra-condensed ki blast annihilated him body and soul, leaving not even a speck of ash behind!

A mid-sized planet? It could not possibly halt his advance.

In just half a month, ninety percent of all life on the planet had been reduced to dust, leaving only weak insects with combat power below a thousand struggling to survive.

Just as Barros was anxiously searching for any trace of acupoints, racking his brains over how to break through the second level of Dragon Elephant Prison Suppression—the chaotic Primordial Dao essence deep within his sea of consciousness suddenly shuddered!

The ancient roulette wheel at its center, which had always remained indistinct, silently turned halfway.

The next instant, Barros was violently flung into an unfamiliar world—

A world known as The Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Upon arriving in this foreign world, Barros hovered in midair, stunned for several breaths.

This world was so fragile that it alarmed him.

With a sweep of his divine sense, he discovered that not a single person in the entire realm possessed an aura exceeding a thousand points of combat power!

He locked onto the nearest intense life force, lightly tapped off with his toes, pushed the Sky Dance Art to its limit, and shot away as a streak of silvery-white light.

What he did not know was that the instant he set foot in this world—

Several of the top figures in the martial world felt their hearts jolt in unison, as though an ancient god or demon had torn open the heavens and peered down upon the mortal realm. They all raised their heads, their gazes like lightning as they stared toward the direction of his arrival!

The streak of light split the clouds. Barros hovered atop a snow-capped mountain, his robes billowing in the wind as he looked down over the boundless snowfield below.

In a mountain hollow, a bedraggled old beggar gazed up at the sky, straining to see through the clouds, yet unable to catch sight of that figure standing in the air.

Barros's eyes flickered. His aura abruptly vanished, and with a flash, he was already standing firmly three meters behind the old beggar!

"His aura... is gone? Wait—!" The old beggar's throat tightened as he spun around sharply!

Their gazes met.

Barros studied the old man before him—his beard and hair tangled, one finger missing from his right hand, and a gleaming wine gourd hanging at his waist. His pupils contracted slightly.

Could it be...

"Hong Qigong?" Barros's tone rose slightly, carrying three parts surprise and seven parts probing.

Hong Qigong's entire body stiffened. This youth looked so young, yet he had identified him at once!

"This old beggar is indeed Hong Qigong! Where did you hear my name, little brother?"

A sharp glint flashed through Barros's eyes—it really was him!

And judging by his physique and complexion, he was clearly still in his prime during The Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Heh... So he had actually landed in such a weak martial world?

The corners of his lips curled into a faint, ambiguous smile, both mocking and understanding.

Across the many worlds of Dragon Ball, no one knew what acupoints were; yet in this world, which master could not close his eyes and count all 365 acupoints throughout their body?

The deadlock that had trapped him at the second level of Dragon Elephant Prison Suppression would probably be resolved effortlessly here!

Only after settling on that thought did he speak. "My name is Lin Feng."

Lin Feng?

Hong Qigong's breathing caught.

Though the youth stood only a few steps away and had concealed his aura, traces of an oppressive presence still seeped from him, as deep as an abyss and as imposing as a mountain—

That was not martial arts. It was the majesty of one who looked down upon all living beings, the instinctive trembling of mortals when a god lowered his gaze!

Fortunately, he had roamed the martial world for decades, and his will was as firm as iron.

Taking a deep breath, he forcibly suppressed his churning blood and qi before asking in a deep voice, "That person above the clouds just now... was that you?"

"It was." Barros nodded.

"Then... did you come specifically to find this old beggar?" Hong Qigong's back tensed. His inner energy surged like boiling water, and his hands secretly formed a palm stance, ready to fight for his life at any moment—he could not tell in the slightest whether this youth was friend or foe, human or immortal!

Yet Barros shook his head. "Not specifically.

It was simply because you were the closest to me."

"The closest to you?" Hong Qigong stared at him with eyes like torches. "You... could you be from..."

He suddenly raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the heavens above, his voice tight. "Above the Nine Heavens?!"

Barros looked up.

The "Nine Heavens" of this world were as thin as cicada wings and as still as glass.

A thought suddenly arose within him: once this was over, he had to go up there and take a look—

The Dragon Ball universe was vast and boundless, but was this martial arts world an isolated floating island in some remote corner, or... a speck of dust in the palm of some colossal god?

The thoughts churned within him, but he did not voice them.

Ignoring Hong Qigong's burning gaze and offering no answer, he flashed forward. His five fingers clamped down like iron pincers, firmly gripping the other man's shoulder—

Before the old beggar could react, Barros seized him and shot into the sky, charging straight toward two equally immense auras in the distance!

He made no attempt to conceal his flight, his presence surging forth like a tide.

Wherever he passed, winds stilled, clouds froze, trees bent to the ground, birds fell onto branches, and all living things bowed their heads, as though heaven and earth themselves were kneeling before a monarch who had appeared from nowhere!

Peach Blossom Island.

Upon the emerald sea lay an island as beautiful as a painting, its mountains blanketed in peach groves blooming brilliantly, like a sea of rosy clouds from afar.

Viewed from the heavens, it stood out like a dot of cinnabar.

Besides, two grandmasters of the age lay hidden on the island—how could Barros lose his way?

The moment he reached the skies above the island, he carried Hong Qigong down, lightly touched the ground with his toes, and landed steadily before a deep, secluded cave entrance.

The instant Hong Qigong caught that familiar trace of aura from within the cave, his stomach lurched violently—

Soaring through the nine heavens had always been the ultimate realm dreamed of by martial artists;

But being hauled along by the collar, tearing through gale-force winds before slamming into the sea of clouds without the slightest cushioning...

That feeling was more dizzying than taking a blow from the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms!

Just then, a clear, crane-like laugh drifted over from afar, every word distinctly entering their ears. "An honored guest has arrived at Peach Blossom Island. Huang Yaoshi has been discourteous in his welcome; I hope you will forgive me!"

Before the words faded, a flash of azure appeared. A man in scholar's robes, holding a white jade flute, with open and elegant features, now stood before Barros and Hong Qigong. His sleeves stirred slightly, leaving no trace as the wind passed, yet he seemed to carry the fresh essence of peach blossoms from across the mountains.

Almost at the same time, a rustling came from deep within the cave. An old man with snowy hair and beard crawled out, barefoot and wearing loose shoes, his eyes darting about. He looked just like a squirrel poking its head out of a burrow, staring fixedly at Barros and Hong Qigong!

Barros's gaze swept over Huang Yaoshi and Zhou Botong. The corner of his lips lifted as he murmured with a sigh, "Eastern Heretic, Northern Beggar, Old Imp... Only Southern Emperor Duan Zhixing, Western Venom Ouyang Feng, and Iron Palm Qiu Qianren remain—then the Five Greats will be complete."

Before he had finished speaking, the airflow beneath his feet suddenly churned like boiling water. His body rose soundlessly, his robes snapping in the wind as he prepared to dart toward the three immense auras in the distance—then, with a flick of his wrist, he formed a blazing white sphere of light in his palm and hurled it through the air at a desolate island floating alone beyond Peach Blossom Island!

The next instant, he turned into a silver streak that tore through the sky and vanished without a trace!

BOOM—!!!

A deafening blast erupted, as though the heavens had split apart and the earth had torn open its throat! Even Huang Yaoshi and the other two, despite their deep foundations, staggered backward from the shockwave. Their feet slipped, and they instinctively leaped onto the highest jagged cliff above the cave. Raising their eyes, they saw—

At the meeting of sea and sky, a massive gray-white mushroom cloud rose into the heavens, roiling and expanding. The lone island that had faced Peach Blossom Island from afar moments ago had become nothing but murky waves. Broken rocks had sunk, reefs had vanished, as if it had never existed at all!

Hiss—!!

He had erased an island? Was that youth... still made of flesh and blood?

A long silence followed.

Zhou Botong's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dry and trembling. "Huang the Heretic... we... we should run!"

Huang Yaoshi's eyes flickered, his heart burning hot before sinking cold—if it were only himself, he would dare venture even to the ends of the earth; but on the island were A Heng's grave, A Heng's zither case, and the green-calyx plum tree she had planted with her own hands...

Hong Qigong stared blankly at him, his gaze empty. Then he suddenly asked hoarsely, "Run? Where would we run? Do you know where I was just now?"

Huang Yaoshi stiffened, his gaze falling upon the lingering frosty traces at Hong Qigong's temples. His body abruptly went rigid. "Where?"

"Mount Hua." Hong Qigong spat out the two words, paused, then added, "Six snaps of the fingers—not one more, not one less."

Gulp... Zhou Botong's throat tightened. The words caught in his throat, and he could not force out even half a sentence.

Methods of gods and demons—far horizons within arm's reach.

No matter how vast the world was, it lay only a few breaths away from him—run? Where could they run? The moment they turned around, that youth's fingers would likely already be resting on the backs of their necks.

Old Imp's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, too drained even to joke.

Huang Yaoshi lowered his eyes in silence. He glanced at Zhou Botong, slumped there like mud, then looked toward Hong Qigong, who was shaking his head with a bitter smile. "Brother Seven, do you know this man's origins?"

"I do not." Hong Qigong looked up at the sky, his gaze blazing. "But... there is an eighty or ninety percent chance that he came from there."

Huang Yaoshi raised his head as well, staring into the boundless vault of heaven.

His heart churned like the sea, yet a faint, blazing flame ignited in his eyes—an almost fanatical fire of inquiry that even his shock could not suppress.

The territory occupied by the Iron Palm Sect was not far from Dali, where Southern Emperor Duan Zhixing lived in seclusion.

With a thought, Barros abandoned Peach Blossom Island and headed straight for White Camel Manor.

The lone smoke of the desert and endless yellow sands passed beneath his feet in mere moments—as he swept by, even the wind had no time to howl.

He suddenly appeared above White Camel Manor, standing outside Ouyang Feng's residence.

Lowering his head to look at his still-youthful hands, he curled his lips and abruptly clenched his fingers in the air—at once, the entire atmosphere was gripped, warped, and torn apart!

The breeze that should have gently brushed across one's face transformed into a roaring blade of force, sweeping outward with a piercing shriek!

CRASH—BOOM!!!

Bricks and tiles flew apart, beams and pillars snapped, and the entire residence crumbled inch by inch like something made of paper!

Before the smoke had dispersed, Ouyang Feng rolled out in disarray, his robes torn, his topknot scattered, his face still filled with shock and fury.

He had only just opened his mouth to shout when Barros closed in. His fingers clamped around the back of Ouyang Feng's neck like iron pincers, and without hesitation, he rose into the air and charged straight for Iron Palm Peak!

Iron Palm Peak towered over Jingxiang, its might pressing down upon the southern frontier.

The Quanzhen Sect held Zhongnan, its Daoist lineage enduring; the Beggars' Sect dominated the north, and all heroes bowed before it; while in the southern martial world, only the Iron Palm Sect commanded allegiance!

That day, the sky suddenly darkened—a burning meteor came crashing down upon the summit!

Barros held Ouyang Feng, whose face had turned red, in one hand, while keeping the other behind his back. His indifferent gaze swept over the Iron Palm Sect disciples below, who had already fallen into chaos. The corner of his lips curled upward in a faint, ambiguous smile.

Then he stepped into the air. There were no stairs beneath his feet, yet each step seemed to shine, as though an immortal lord of the dark heavens had descended into the mortal world. He walked straight toward Qiu Qianren, who stood against the wind atop the peak!

Qiu Qianren's pupils abruptly shrank. His entire body went cold and stiff as he stared fixedly at that small figure striding through the void—every step felt as though it landed upon his heart; every step closer felt as though heaven and earth were collapsing and mountains were crumbling.

For half his life, he had roamed the martial world, determined to raise the Iron Palm Sect to its pinnacle. Yet at this moment, he felt as tiny as a grain of sand, drifting above an endless abyss of darkness. Even the thought of struggling weighed so heavily upon him that he could not lift his head.

"Sir..." He gritted his teeth and clasped his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. But after only three words, his eyes suddenly fell upon Ouyang Feng in Barros's grasp, and he blurted out in shock, "Ouyang Feng?!"

Ouyang Feng raised his eyes and recognized Qiu Qianren at once.

Both were supreme masters of their age; each had long since etched the other's name into his bones.

But now, he was fish on the chopping block, his life hanging in another's hand. How could he spare any thought for polite greetings?

Barros could not be bothered to listen to him speak further. His cold gaze swept across the Iron Palm Sect disciples wailing all over the ground. Then his figure flickered. Before Qiu Qianren could even see what had happened, iron fingers had already seized the back of his neck, lifting him into the air!

Barros's eyes sharpened, and his aura suddenly surged. In the next instant, he became a streak of light, speeding toward a steady, vast presence a hundred li away!

The fierce wind cut like blades, stinging the two men's cheeks. Their hair whipped wildly about, their robes flapped violently, and they were utterly disheveled.

In the blink of an eye—within a flash of lightning—Barros arrived before Duan Zhixing, holding Ouyang Feng and Qiu Qianren steadily in his grasp!

Duan Zhixing had long been on guard, his sleeves billowing as a faint Buddhist radiance shimmered around him.

But before he could speak, Barros grinned. His left hand seized Qiu Qianren by the collar like lightning, while his right shot out like a ghost, five fingers clamping down on Duan Zhixing's right shoulder—in the next moment, all three soared into the sky, shooting straight into the clouds!

The vast mountains and rivers spanning ten thousand miles lay no farther than an arm's reach beneath his feet.

In a world where martial arts had yet to reach their ultimate peak, the Sky Dance Art was more soul-shaking and terrifying than even the legendary ability to ride the clouds!

In a single day, he crossed the Three Mountains and Five Peaks, sweeping over the Five Lakes and Four Seas.

Such a power was nearly enough to pierce heaven and earth, yet Barros needed only flick a few fingers to carry everyone from White Camel Manor in the desert, Iron Palm Peak in Jiangnan, and Dali in Yunnan—three distant lands—back to Peach Blossom Island in an instant.

Looking down, countless peach trees bloomed brilliantly. The peach blossoms stretched like a sea of clouds, green branches layered in lush abundance, and the entire island seemed soaked in springtime.

Duan Zhixing, Ouyang Feng, and Qiu Qianren stood in midair, their throats tight, unable to utter a single word.

They did not know why they had been abducted and brought here.

But they all understood perfectly well: their lives now rested entirely on Barros's whim. They did not even have room to blink, let alone struggle!

A streak of silver-purple light tore through the sky, crashing into the peach forest like a comet. Hong Qigong and Huang Yaoshi met each other's eyes and cried out together, "Prince Duan! Ouyang Feng! Qiu Qianren!"

The figures landed. Barros released his grip and withdrew his strength, not touching the three of them again.

Looking at the boy before him, scarcely more than ten years old and still bearing childish features, Duan Zhixing felt his mind quake and his insides churn. He could only keep chanting the Buddha's name in a low voice. "Amitabha... Amitabha..."

Once his initial shock had settled somewhat, Ouyang Feng could no longer hold himself back. He spoke in a deep voice, "Your divine skill is unmatched. Since you brought us here, you must have some purpose—please speak plainly!"

Barros's tone was calm, but every word was clear. "I only wish to ask you all—how exactly are the one hundred and eight acupoints of the human body distributed?"

"That's all?"

Huang Yaoshi, Hong Qigong, Ouyang Feng, Duan Zhixing, Zhou Botong, and Qiu Qianren exchanged looks. The six pairs of eyes met at once, and they stared at one another before breaking into speechless, wry laughter.

This child, who seemed like an exiled immortal descended into the world, had actually dragged all six of the era's greatest masters here. They had thought he meant to overturn the martial world and reshape heaven and earth. Who would have thought that all he wanted was to ask one question—where the acupoints were located!

At that thought, everyone shook their heads, smiling bitterly without end.

As grandmasters of their generation, who among them did not possess pride as lofty as the heavens and an unyielding backbone?

But before an inhuman existence like Barros, even the stiffest spine had no choice but to bend.

He had not even needed to threaten them. He merely raised a hand and swept it through the air—within a thousand li of Peach Blossom Island, every island, large and small, shattered and sank. Broken stones fell like rain, while tsunamis surged backward!

The Eastern Heretic, Western Venom, Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar, Iron Palm, and Old Imp—none dared utter a word of refusal.

From that day onward, Peach Blossom Island knew no peace.

Barros completely cast aside his pride. With humble sincerity and proper respect, he sought instruction from the Five Greats, Zhou Botong, and Qiu Qianren regarding the very foundation upon which martial artists of this world lived and stood—the subtle intricacies of the body's major acupoints.

The one hundred and eight vital acupoints corresponded to the stars in the heavens, secretly matching the numbers of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits and the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiends.

Hong Qigong, Huang Yaoshi, and the others truly deserved to be titans who had founded their own schools. Of the one hundred and eight acupoints recorded in ancient texts, the six of them collectively knew more than ninety.

As for the remaining thirteen, Ouyang Feng and Huang Yaoshi each supplemented their routes and personally demonstrated them.