Finger Breaks Iron Shirt, Skill Overwhelms the Arhats

It turned out that Elder Dustless, considering Yuan Tong had just finished a match, had intended to let him rest briefly before proceeding to the next bout.

But Yuan Tong called out loudly, "No need!"

His voice boomed like a great bell, full of vigor, without the slightest trace of fatigue after a hard fight:

"This disciple is just getting warmed up. There's no need to rest. Elder, please announce the next match directly!"

He intended to ride the momentum of his previous victory and press on in one burst to defeat Zhu Yingxiong.

Zhu Yingxiong met his gaze and kept walking, step by step, toward the center of the arena.

The two of them shared the same thought—

Defeat the other.

Elder Dustless let his gaze rest briefly on each of their faces. Saying no more, he retreated several steps and announced in a raised voice:

"The next match—"

"Yuan Tong of the Arhat Hall versus Yuan Zhen of the Dharma Hall!"

Zhu Yingxiong and Yuan Tong pressed their palms together in greeting, then each focused their minds and waited.

Yuan Tong still made the first move, seizing the initiative.

Yet just as he planted his feet and his hulking body began to move—

Whoosh—

A sharp gust tore through the air!

Zhu Yingxiong's finger force had actually struck later yet arrived first, shooting straight for the Yingxiang acupoint beside Yuan Tong's nose!

The precision with which this finger strike targeted the acupoint, and the speed of its force, caught everyone completely off guard.

Yuan Tong's pupils contracted sharply. His right fist rose on instinct, and a collapsing punch struck the invisible force head-on.

Pop!

The force dispersed.

But before he could catch his breath—

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Three sharp gusts ripped through the air in succession! One targeted Lianquan, one went for Shanzhong, and one sped toward Qimen beneath his right ribs!

Yuan Tong swung his left fist and dispersed one, raised his right arm across his body to block another, then twisted sharply aside and barely evaded the third.

Zhu Yingxiong's index finger flicked out repeatedly, each burst of finger force tighter and fiercer than the last, pouring down like a deluge.

Every finger strike ignored all other targets and pointed directly at the weak points of Yuan Tong's iron-shirt training.

Forget closing in to attack—Yuan Tong was now scrambling left and right, run ragged by the assault.

He swung his fists to block and twisted away to evade, but those finger forces were viciously precise, clinging to him like maggots to bone.

The occasional stray strike landed on his shoulders, back, or arms. Though they did not hit a weak point, the pain pierced to the marrow and even stalled the circulation of his true qi.

Yuan Tong's expression changed slightly. He had clearly realized that Zhu Yingxiong's finger technique was the nemesis of his hardened-body art.

Yuan Tong waved both fists, blocking with all his might, yet he was still struck several times, grimacing in pain.

The hundreds of monks below watched in stunned disbelief. Yuan Tong, who had just relied on his bronze skin and iron bones to withstand Yuan Jie head-on and displayed unmatched ferocity, was now being suppressed by Yuan Zhen until he could not even get close!

Yet the eminent monks on the viewing platform saw something else.

"I never expected Martial Nephew Yuan Zhen's inner strength to be so profound!" Elder Fearless's voice boomed like a bell, his astonishment undisguised. "So the rumors that he mastered the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture are true after all!"

He paused, then sighed. "Truly enviable."

The other elders also could not help showing a trace of envy. In Yan Wuju's usually cold, still eyes, an exceedingly deep glint flashed past.

Yuan Tong naturally heard it as well.

He had originally intended to wear him down—no matter how fierce your finger force was, you would eventually be exhausted. Once your inner strength failed, that would be my chance to close in.

Yet Zhu Yingxiong unleashed finger force after finger force, several in a single breath, endlessly and without the slightest sign of weakening.

Yuan Tong knew he could wait no longer. If he kept waiting, defeat would be inevitable.

With a furious roar, Yuan Tong bent both arms to shield his head and face, then charged forward through the unceasing finger force!

His fierce and valiant nature was on full display.

In the blink of an eye, Yuan Tong had closed to within three feet. He raised his elbow like a spear, carrying an all-or-nothing momentum as he rammed it straight toward Zhu Yingxiong's chest!

This blow contained the power of his entire life's cultivation.

The startled cries below had yet to leave their throats—

But Zhu Yingxiong seemed to have expected it.

With a fierce tap of his toes against the ground, his body abruptly shot upward at the very instant there was no room to spare!

Like a white crane soaring into the sky, like a startled swan skimming past, he flipped through the air to above Yuan Tong's head!

Head down and feet up, his monk's robes fluttered loudly as his moon-white figure traced a graceful arc beneath the pale winter sun.

The crowd below erupted in uproar. None had expected Zhu Yingxiong to evade Yuan Tong's desperate strike with such ease.

Only Yuan Cheng found the scene painfully familiar—being beaten to every move, every step calculated against him.

But it was not over yet.

Yuan Tong's strike missed, and before he could withdraw his momentum, Zhu Yingxiong above him had already thrust out a finger!

It pointed at Baihui atop Yuan Tong's head, precisely one of his weak points.

"Hmph!" Yuan Tong sank his waist into a horse stance to stabilize himself, then threw a punch toward the sky.

Great Vajra Fist against One-Finger Zen.

Bang!

Bang—!

Force exploded above Yuan Tong's head, and a violent wave of air surged outward.

Yuan Tong's body visibly stiffened. That incomparably fierce fist force was forcibly pressed down by this single finger!

Yet Zhu Yingxiong used the rebound from that strike to spin once more in midair!

His body whirled lightly, like a kite turning over.

His index finger struck again and again!

Starting from the Jianyu acupoint on Yuan Tong's right shoulder, it traveled downward:

Binao, Zhouliao, Quchi...

Finger force pierced into the acupoints.

Then came Shentang, Geguan, Hunmen, Yishe, Zhishi, Shenshu!

Zhu Yingxiong struck thirteen fingers in succession while in the air!

Every finger targeted one of Yuan Tong's vital acupoints. Every touch was as light as a dragonfly skimming water, withdrawing the instant it landed!

Hoo~

Zhu Yingxiong drifted down three feet behind Yuan Tong and stood with his finger lowered.

The hem of his monk's robe slowly settled, leaving no further sound.

Yuan Tong remained in his punching pose, frozen where he stood.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Then Yuan Tong's body, famed for its bronze skin and iron bones, began to tremble violently as though seized by chills.

Thud—

The hulking figure's knees gave way, and he crashed heavily onto the bluestone paving.

He braced himself with one hand and gasped for air, sweat pouring down like rain. His shoulders and back continued trembling uncontrollably, and he no longer had the strength to rise.

For a moment, the arena and the crowd alike fell completely silent.

Until Elder Dustless's voice rang out, breaking the frozen dead silence:

"In this match, Yuan Zhen of the Dharma Hall is victorious."

Boom—!

The crowd below exploded!

The Dharma Hall disciples cheered wildly, while the monks of the Arhat Hall wore faces full of unwillingness. Yet they could only watch helplessly as their martial monk knelt on the ground, unable to rise for a long while.

Even more people stared in endless amazement at the young figure in moon-white monk's robes on the field.

No one had expected the final match to end like this, in even less time than the previous two.

And the victor was Yuan Zhen of the Dharma Hall.

The youngest of the four.

Elder Dustless stepped forward to inspect Yuan Tong's injuries. After confirming that he had merely exhausted himself and had his breath blocked, with no serious harm done, he nodded slightly and ordered someone to help him from the arena.

Turning to Zhu Yingxiong, he announced loudly, "Yuan Zhen of the Dharma Hall is victorious."

At this moment, every gaze had fallen upon Zhu Yingxiong.

Elder Dustless slowly walked toward the viewing platform and stopped before Abbot Bu Wen's seat. Pressing his palms together, he bowed and asked quietly, "Shall we announce Yuan Zhen as the winner of the year-end martial competition according to the rules?"

Abbot Bu Wen nodded slightly and was about to speak—

"Hold on, Abbot Brother."

A calm voice suddenly sounded from beside him.

Everyone followed the sound and saw Yan Wuju seated in his place, his expression unchanged. His gaze swept over the moon-white figure in the arena before settling on the richly dressed young man standing behind Master No-Thought. He spoke unhurriedly:

"Martial Nephew Ma, the outstanding disciple of Brother No-Thought, is also a young talent of Shaolin's lay disciple lineage. Since he has come to observe this ceremony, would it not be a pity for him merely to watch from the sidelines? In Yan's opinion, why not have him enter the arena for a friendly exchange?"

At those words, the gazes of the eminent monks on the viewing platform turned in unison toward Master No-Thought and Ma Junsheng standing behind him.