Four Seas Martial Arts Hall.
Big Silly Qiang scratched his head as he stepped down from the platform, looking at Li Xiuwen with a rueful smile. "A Wen, sorry. All the pressure's on you now."
"You were too impatient. A few more steady exchanges and you would've won," Li Xiuwen sighed.
"My comprehension's poor. My combat method's been stuck at the threshold of minor mastery for half a month. I just can't break through." Big Silly Qiang sounded helpless.
With the Incense Burner, Li Xiuwen faced no bottlenecks in his advancement and could not understand Big Silly Qiang's frustration.
"A Wen, it's up to you." A Zhen tugged at Li Xiuwen's arm.
Even Big Silly Qiang had lost. Short of a miracle, she could not imagine how A Wen could win.
Tian Er was stronger than Wen Wu, second only to Longlegs Seven.
Liu Chun's expression was complicated. She disliked Li Xiuwen; after all, he was her competitor.
But now, she wanted Li Xiuwen to win and salvage some pride for their school.
Li Xiuwen stepped onto the platform.
The tall, burly Tian Er jumped up as well, grinning smugly. The night heron on his training uniform spread its wings as though about to take flight, bold and unrestrained.
"We came full of excitement for a hall challenge, only to leave disappointed... You're all too weak!" He raised his middle finger, making no effort to hide his mocking contempt.
Schools competed with one another for fame and profit.
On the platform, trash talk before a match was standard practice.
Li Xiuwen still smiled politely and cupped his fist. "Li Xiuwen of the Sea Sand Style. Please instruct me!"
Below the platform, the cross-eyed Wen Wu stared at Li Xiuwen, feeling certain he had seen him somewhere before.
"Senior Brother, isn't this the fellow who came asking to become a disciple?"
Longlegs Seven's brow furrowed deeply. "It's him... This old geezer's trained for less than two months, and he's already qualified to compete?"
"Strange. Could his martial constitution be a superior physique too?" Wen Wu wondered.
"He's probably just making up the numbers," Black Dog said. "Or maybe Master Huang stuffed him with fish balls to force him to the purple membrane stage for this tournament?"
"Even with a superior physique, he started too late at his age. It'll be hard to achieve peak permanence before his qi and blood decline." Longlegs Seven shook his head.
Given his status and position, he did not care in the least that he had rejected Li Xiuwen back then. That had been his master's intention anyway.
Even if Li Xiuwen had some ability, it was nothing worth mentioning.
In the Grandmaster's Chair, Huang Sihai's eyelids drooped. He had already stopped paying attention to the First Floor matches and could only hope to claw back a few wins in the Second Floor bouts.
Master Ye smiled. "Old Huang, that's hardly fair. Taking someone his age-does he have an excellent martial constitution?"
Huang Sihai replied calmly, "What's wrong with his age? He's only trained for a little over a month and already reached purple membrane. Is he so much worse than those youngsters of yours?"
Master Ye grew interested. He studied Li Xiuwen and said, "You didn't force him there with fish balls, did you? There's really no need."
Old Huang said nothing, and Master Ye took that as confirmation.
Unless his aptitude was exceptional, how could he possibly reach purple membrane in a little over a month?
"Ten moves. If you're still on the platform after that, you can be proud of yourself."
Tian Er moved, swift as lightning. His arms spread like a waterbird skimming a lake, his presence overbearing.
The dozen or so battles he had fought against Tian Er last night flashed through Li Xiuwen's mind. He knew this fist technique's practical offensive and defensive methods inside out.
This move is meant to confuse my vision. I just need to stay still and react.
Li Xiuwen stood in the center, unmoving as a mountain, waiting for Tian Er to truly close in.
His palm shot out in an instant. Waves Sifting Sand! Fierce hard force erupted at the slightest contact.
Tian Er slipped aside and dodged it.
The palm strike hit empty air. Li Xiuwen seemed unsteady, carried another two steps forward by his momentum.
"Already falling apart on our first exchange?"
Tian Er closed in with three steps and let out a shrill cry, driving his Waterbird Fist straight toward Li Xiuwen's back.
But Li Xiuwen seemed to have anticipated it. He bent backward at the waist, evading the punch.
At the same time, his right leg swept out like a gale scattering fallen leaves. The air cracked, and the gust stirred dust across the platform.
In an instant, Tian Er, who had come to exploit Li Xiuwen's opening, exposed one of his own. The sweep tripped him, throwing his footwork into disarray.
Within that tiny space, Li Xiuwen unleashed Soft Palm, pouring wave upon wave of force into Tian Er's back.
Sand-Turning Palm, second layer: Surging Undercurrent!
The thick muscles along Tian Er's back rippled in layers, his bones shuddering as his face turned ashen.
His feet danced as he reached the edge of the platform. Just as he seemed about to fall, he abruptly caught himself.
His feet shifted unpredictably, tapping along the edge as he nimbly circled back.
"Footwork?" Huang Sihai had just begun to see a glimmer of hope, but his expression immediately grew grave. "Master Ye, you're certainly generous, teaching Pine Hall disciples footwork."
"Did this disciple of yours study at my Night Heron Martial Arts Hall before?" Master Ye was also somewhat surprised.
For some reason, he felt that Li Xiuwen understood the patterns of Waterbird Fist extremely well, as though he had personally sparred with his disciples many times.
Every time, this fellow could see the intent behind Tian Er's moves. He could even bait him with a false opening and launch a surprise counterattack.
Had he not specifically taught Tian Er a footwork technique, they might genuinely have suffered an embarrassing upset.
"What's so difficult about that Waterbird Fist of yours? It's nothing but a variation of the White Crane Style. I've taken him to the big arena to watch far too many times," Huang Sihai sneered.
Old Huang was rather pleased. Li Xiuwen had a knack for combat methods and practical fighting.
"I underestimated you. Li Xiuwen, was it? I'll remember you," Tian Er said solemnly.
"You talk too much." Li Xiuwen was also getting a headache.
During their battles last night, this fellow had never used footwork.
That meant Tian Er had not yet learned it a little over a month ago. He had picked it up recently.
The two fought at close quarters. Tian Er held the advantage in footwork and speed, and Li Xiuwen's palm strikes repeatedly missed.
But Li Xiuwen could always read Tian Er's attacks precisely and neutralize them one by one.
Why does he understand my Waterbird Fist so well? Tian Er felt as though he were running around naked.
Baffled, Tian Er maneuvered around him, searching for a way to win.
After over a hundred exchanges, Tian Er was panting, while Li Xiuwen was also breathing a little harder.
The Sea Sand Style had always surpassed the Night Heron Style in endurance.
If they kept fighting, he could win even with his opponent's footwork advantage.
So he was in no hurry.
Tian Er grew impatient.
The three fellow disciples before him had all won clean, impressive victories.
Yet here he was, dragging things out and even looking rather bedraggled.
Even if he won, it would hardly be glorious. He would look like the weakest of them.
"This punch will defeat you!"
Tian Er let out a long cry. His body skimmed close to the ground, gliding over a distance of more than ten feet as his arms swept and fluttered into a blur, like a flock of
birds blotting out the sky, leaving nowhere to dodge.
This was a sequence that could only be developed with a deep foundation in Waterbird Fist's minor mastery stage. Its name was Thousand Egrets.
His Waterbird Fist was already approaching great mastery, its power far surpassing Black Dog's and Wen Wu's.
Below the platform, Liu Chun and the others had their hearts in their throats.
Li Xiuwen moved as though weaving through trees and leaves, evading one phantom after another and deftly locating the real body.
His large, rough hands seized Tian Er's arms. Following the momentum, he drove his body forward like the sky crashing down, knocking Tian Er off balance and forcing him back step after step.
He pressed the attack, bringing down a palm that seemed soft and powerless.
Tian Er wanted to trade injuries and finish him with a single strike, so he chose to take the blow head-on, thrusting his chest toward it.
Layer upon layer of force erupted in that instant.
The seemingly gentle palm carried crushing power!
"Your Sand-Turning Palm has reached minor mastery?" Tian Er's expression changed drastically, his face flushing crimson.
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