Whether at Taiyi Dao or Wudang Mountain, martial arts pursued subtle, intricate variations, unlike the martial arts popular on the Great Grassland, which sought only brute force. This was especially true of the Nine Profound True Scripture. Not only did it offer countless ingenious variations, but upon reaching the Innate Realm, its practitioner could sense changes in an opponent's internal power in advance, discerning the enemy's movements and devising a targeted response a step ahead.
Once Sun Mingke had gauged Huo Mo's palm power, he gained a slight advantage on their second exchange, then pushed out another palm without any flourish. They exchanged twelve palm strikes in one stretch. At first, they were evenly matched, but by the fifth or sixth strike, Huo Mo felt his internal power being restrained with every clash. By the eighth or ninth, his face had flushed red, and he was struggling to hold on.
Ever since descending the mountain, the young and spirited Sun Mingke had encountered nothing but vicious, utterly ruthless enemies. What did he know of holding back? He unleashed his palm power to the fullest. By the twelfth strike, he felt only that this young prince of the grasslands had feeble palm power. With a loud shout, he summoned another three-tenths of his strength out of nowhere. Huo Mo was already like a melon on the Yellow Terrace-how could he endure another plucking? Blood sprayed from his mouth as Sun Mingke knocked him flat on the stone platform.
Having landed his blow, Sun Mingke raised his foot and stamped down. Huo Mo was terrified. This little bastard means to kill me! With no thought for his dignity, he rolled all the way off the stone platform. Sun Mingke felt a slight pang of regret. Seeing the other two locked in a