Chapter 193

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Yuan Kong took out a small jade-carved box from his robes. Opening it, he carefully scooped out some black, paste-like substance that emitted a strong herbal fragrance. He applied it meticulously to his injured fingers, and a cool sensation instantly spread through his hand, easing the pain. Once he had closed the box and stored it away, he used his inner energy to circulate through his fingers, helping the medicinal effects take hold. In no time, the swelling subsided. Although some pain lingered, it no longer hindered him from continuing the match.

Swinging his arm and flexing his fingers a few times, Yuan Kong leaped back into the ring. He pressed his palms together and said: “Zhang Xiaohua, by the rules of the martial world, stepping out of the ring to tend to an injury would normally mean I should admit defeat. However, this match concerns the reputation of my sect. As a humble monk, I dare not tarnish my sect’s name or admit defeat lightly. Besides, this is a ring match—being knocked out of the ring is the ultimate judgment of defeat. Furthermore, you already permitted me to treat my injury, so let us continue our duel.”

Zhang Xiaohua stared blankly for a moment and then said: “Little Monk Yuan Kong, is this what they call the legendary ‘tongue sprouting lotus blossoms’? I didn’t even say you had to admit defeat, but you’ve gone on and on about it. Honestly, you could probably talk a corpse back to life.”

Yuan Kong’s face turned slightly red, though his dark complexion hid it well. Without responding, he stepped forward, raising a fist and swinging it toward Zhang Xiaohua’s face. This time, he didn’t use the Silken Restraint and Capture Hand or the Vajra Demon-Subduing Palm. Instead, he unleashed the Seventy-Two Forms of Frenzied Staff Technique.

This staff technique was originally designed for use with a weapon. However, since this was a competition for lower-level disciples where weapons were prohibited, Yuan Kong didn’t mind using his arm as a substitute. With inner energy coursing through his body, the lack of a staff didn’t diminish the power of the technique. Against an opponent like Zhang Xiaohua, whose skills were still shallow, this technique was more than effective.

Seeing him switch to a new martial technique, Zhang Xiaohua felt delighted rather than alarmed. With a wave of his fist, he once again brought out his trusty Big Dipper Divine Fist and engaged Yuan Kong in combat.

This time, Yuan Kong had learned his lesson. He didn’t use his full strength but instead adapted to the situation, skillfully redirecting Zhang Xiaohua’s attacks and preparing for a prolonged battle.

This shift in Yuan Kong’s tactics stemmed from the conclusion he reached while applying his ointment earlier. Zhang Xiaohua’s fist techniques were extraordinary, and Yuan Kong’s Vajra Demon-Subduing Palm didn’t provide him with a clear advantage. His acupoint strikes had been completely ineffective as well. However, Yuan Kong realized that Zhang Xiaohua lacked inner energy. During the earlier exchanges, Yuan Kong had focused on head-to-head clashes of raw physical strength, indulging in a straightforward battle. Yet he had overlooked a crucial point: pure physical power is the most exhausting to sustain. Unlike inner energy, it cannot be regenerated by circulating energy techniques. By directly competing in brute strength, Yuan Kong was essentially exposing his own weaknesses while playing into Zhang Xiaohua’s strengths.

Instead, if he relied on the Qinggong and finesse of his inner energy, gradually wearing Zhang Xiaohua down, he could conserve his strength while Zhang Xiaohua’s physical energy depleted over time. Even if Zhang Xiaohua’s arms could wield the strength of ten thousand jin, he would eventually reach his limit. Yuan Kong, on the other hand, could recover his inner energy through energy circulation techniques. In the end, victory would naturally fall into Yuan Kong’s hands.

And so, Yuan Kong altered his strategy.

At this moment, Zhang Xiaohua was no longer the inexperienced novice he had once been. Yuan Kong’s change in tactics quickly revealed his intentions to Zhang Xiaohua. This was not a new trick—earlier disciples from the Piaomiao Sect had already used this approach. It was indeed Zhang Xiaohua’s weak spot. In those previous matches, however, there had been time limits, allowing Zhang Xiaohua to conserve his stamina until time ran out.

But this time, the match had no time limit. Zhang Xiaohua couldn’t simply preserve his strength indefinitely. Realizing this, Zhang Xiaohua changed his approach as well. Abandoning the Big Dipper Divine Fist, he instead began to use the Piaomiao Step to engage Yuan Kong in a hit-and-run style of combat.

When Zhang Xiaohua displayed the Piaomiao Step, Monk Changgeng, couldn’t help but remark: “Sect Master Ou, who exactly is this disciple? How is it that someone so young has been taught the Piaomiao Step? You must truly value him.”

Ou Peng had been deeply lost in thought, pondering a serious question. Monk Changgeng’s words snapped him out of his reverie, and he responded absentmindedly: “What? I value him?”

As he finally took a closer look at the arena, he couldn’t help but gasp, drawing in a sharp breath. His heart was filled with astonishment: “Isn’t this the second layer of the Piaomiao Step? In just over a month, he has already mastered the second layer. For a young boy with no prior martial arts foundation, isn’t this too extraordinary? Moreover, He Tianshu is truly a talent as well. To comprehend the first two layers of the Piaomiao Step in such a short time… I had underestimated him before. Could he be one of those rare, hidden talents we hear about in legends?”

Leaving aside the conversation between Ou Peng and Monk Changgeng, Zhang Xiaohua’s previously effective tricks in the arena seemed entirely useless this time. While Zhang Xiaohua’s Piaomiao Step was indeed remarkable, Yuan Kong quickly adjusted after a few failed attempts at attacking. He immediately switched to employing the Daling Temple’s secret Crossing the River on a Reed technique, a Qinggong skill of extraordinary speed and intricate footwork. It was on par with the Piaomiao Step.

Since Zhang Xiaohua couldn’t execute the Big Dipper Divine Fist while using the Piaomiao Step, Yuan Kong gained the upper hand. He combined his Crossing the River on a Reed movement with the Frenzied Staff Technique. Within the span of half an incense stick’s time, Zhang Xiaohua found himself in increasingly dangerous situations, narrowly avoiding being struck on several occasions. If not for his innate talent for footwork and his improvisation of variations beyond what the Piaomiao Step manuals described, he would have been hit several times.

Realizing that the Piaomiao Step couldn’t defeat the enemy, Zhang Xiaohua abandoned it and focused solely on the Big Dipper Divine Fist. As soon as he switched back, the situation shifted slightly in his favor, regaining some control over the match.

Zhang Xiaohua felt as though Yuan Kong had dug a trap for him, one he couldn’t avoid. Step by step, he was being drawn into it. However, Zhang Xiaohua had already mentally prepared for failure and remained calm.

With one move after another, Zhang Xiaohua executed the Big Dipper Divine Fist to counter Yuan Kong’s Frenzied Staff Technique.

The two continued to clash for a long time. Zhang Xiaohua had no idea how many moves of the Big Dipper Divine Fist he had performed, and Yuan Kong’s inner energy had already circulated through his meridians countless times.

Yuan Kong’s inner energy was being consumed at an alarming rate, and the pace of its recovery was gradually falling behind its expenditure. Yet Yuan Kong wasn’t the least bit concerned. He could feel the dwindling strength in Zhang Xiaohua’s punches—the once-forceful gusts of wind generated by his fist techniques had grown weaker. In their brief physical clashes, Yuan Kong could distinctly sense the growing frailty in Zhang Xiaohua’s body. Yuan Kong knew that, at most, Xiaohua would run out of energy in another half an incense stick’s time. Meanwhile, his own inner energy could still last for the equivalent of five incense sticks. Victory was assuredly his.

In contrast to Zhang Xiaohua’s rapidly declining strength, Yuan Kong’s confidence surged. The shouts of “Victory!” from the crowd beneath the stage grew louder and more fervent. Monk Changgeng, couldn’t suppress the growing amusement in his eyes. Ou Peng, however, seemed to undergo a change. The confusion in his gaze began to clear, giving way to surprise, joy, shock, and disbelief!

Suddenly, Ou Peng stood up, as if he had just realized something extraordinary. His eyes locked tightly onto Zhang Xiaohua, and then he quickly turned to look at his senior brother, Hu Yunyì, seated to his lower right.

First Brother Hu seemed to have reached the same conclusion. His face was filled with excitement and disbelief as he raised his head to meet Ou Peng’s gaze.

A distant childhood memory resurfaced in both of their minds.

It was from a time long, long ago—so far back that Ou Peng had been only a seven- or eight-year-old boy, newly admitted to the sect.

Despite being a novice, Ou Peng’s exceptional talent had earned the admiration of their master. The master had separated Ou Peng from the other disciples of the Young Eagle Hall and assigned him to train alongside his eldest disciple, Hu Yunyì, so that he could help guide him whenever he encountered difficulties. At the time, Hu Yunyì had already reached the eighth level of the Cloth-Robe stage in his training.

Hu Yunyì could still vividly recall that night, under a round and radiant full moon. The two of them had just finished practicing their fist techniques in the gentle moonlight and were sitting down to rest.

Gazing at the clear and luminous moon, Ou Peng had turned to Hu Yunyì and asked: “Eldest Senior Brother, I have a question I’d like to ask you. Please don’t laugh at me.”

Hu Yunyì, who had always been fond of his remarkably intelligent junior brother, smiled warmly and readily agreed to answer.

Ou Peng hesitated for a moment before asking, somewhat embarrassed: “Eldest Senior Brother, who do you think created the fist techniques, palm techniques, and inner energy methods we practice?”

Hu Yunyì chuckled and replied: “Naturally, they were created by the founder of our Piaomiao Sect, along with other wise and talented individuals who came later.”

Ou Peng nodded but pressed further: “But didn’t they learn martial arts from someone else first?”

Hu Yunyì thought for a moment and said: “They must have learned from others. Otherwise, how could someone who doesn’t understand martial arts create such techniques from nothing?”

Yet Ou Peng persisted: “Then who created their martial arts? And who originally created all the martial arts in this world?”

Hu Yunyì was stumped. Scratching his head with a sheepish laugh, he said: “Hehe, that I wouldn’t know. The Piaomiao Sect has existed for thousands of years. How could I possibly track them down to ask? If you’re curious, perhaps you could ask our master.”

As they were speaking, a voice came from afar: “Little Peng, your thinking is quite unique.”

Both of them immediately stood and saluted in the direction of the voice. In the distance, under the moonlight, a faint figure was approaching. Although the voice had sounded far away at first, by the time they stood, the figure had already arrived near them.

When the figure landed, it turned out to be their master—the previous leader of the Piaomiao Sect, Junhui.

After Hu Yunyì and Ou Peng finished their salute, Junhui patted Ou Peng on the head with a smile and said: “For thousands of years, countless martial artists have trained within the Piaomiao Sect, but no one has ever asked such a question. That you could think of this shows your extraordinary nature.”

Ou Peng blushed and murmured: “Master, I was just enjoying my training and suddenly became curious about where martial arts came from.”

Junhui shook his head and said: “It is in the details that greatness is revealed. This is what sets you apart from others. While others cultivate purely for the sake of cultivation, you are able to think about the origins of cultivation itself. This is truly rare and commendable.”

Hearing this, even Hu Yunyì felt slightly embarrassed, his face blushing red.

Junhui gazed into the deep, star-filled night sky with a sense of longing and said: “The origins of martial arts in the Jianghu are incredibly complex, with far-reaching implications. It is not something I can fully explain to you now. However, the origins of fist techniques, palm techniques, and other martial arts styles can be shared, so that you may broaden your knowledge.”

Upon hearing this, both Hu Yunyì and Ou Peng’s eyes lit up. In unison, they exclaimed: “Master, how did fist techniques come about? Please, tell us quickly!”

Junhui cleared his throat and began: “According to ancient legends, in the earliest times, there was no such thing as martial arts, nor did the term Jianghu exist. One day, an extraordinary figure appeared at the base of the mountain where Dalin Temple now stands. Below the mountain was a road running east to west, and beside the road stood a towering bodhi tree. This extraordinary figure sat cross-legged under the tree for several days. Then, suddenly, he looked to the heavens and let out a long howl, attracting the attention of many passersby. To their astonishment, he began practicing a fist technique. He repeated the movements over and over, practicing exactly eighty-one repetitions before walking away without a word. This bizarre act caught the attention of the onlookers. Among them were some with exceptional intelligence who memorized the movements of the technique. From that point on, the concept of fist techniques was born in this world.”

“Ah, so that’s how fist techniques originated? How extraordinary!” Hu Yunyì and Ou Peng exclaimed in amazement. They quickly asked: “And what was the name of this earliest fist technique?”

Junhui appeared thoughtful and replied: “Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist.”

“The Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist???” Both of them were bewildered. They asked: “Master, we’ve never heard of such a fist technique before.”

Junhui chuckled and said: “The origin of all fist techniques in the world naturally traces back to the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist. However, unlike the systematic passing down of martial arts from master to disciple, as we do, the extraordinary figure only demonstrated the movements under the bodhi tree without verbal instruction. Those who watched and learned did so based solely on their understanding and memory. Each person remembered fragments, some better than others. Over time, as they tried to piece together what they had seen, their interpretations diverged greatly. No one could convince another that their version was correct, and so different fist techniques and sects were born.”

Ou Peng pondered for a moment before asking: “Master, there are countless fist techniques in the world, and just as many palm techniques. Are they all derived from the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist?”

Junhui replied: “While the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist is indeed the origin of fist techniques, it consists of only 360 moves. The number of techniques in the martial arts world today far exceeds this. Humanity has never lacked for brilliance. From the moment this seed of martial arts was planted, countless intelligent individuals began to innovate and expand upon the foundational techniques they had learned. This is how the myriad schools and styles of fist techniques we see today in the Jianghu came into being.”

Ou Peng nodded thoughtfully and said: “So, no matter how many fist techniques have been created, they all ultimately stem from the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist, don’t they?”

Junhui praised him: “Exactly. However, due to the passage of time, even the earliest oral transmissions and the later written and illustrated records of the technique inevitably introduced inaccuracies and omissions. By now, no one knows what the original Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist truly looked like or what the full set of moves consisted of. All that is known is that the techniques of this fist style are hidden within the most common fist and palm techniques that have been passed down through the generations.”

Ou Peng was puzzled and asked: “Then why aren’t these moves found in the secret techniques of the various sects?”

Junhui explained: “The secret martial arts of the sects have undergone countless refinements throughout history, integrating unique inner energy methods. This process led to the creation of entirely new martial arts. While they may have originated from the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist, the moves themselves have evolved and changed, leaving no direct traces of the original techniques.”

After a moment, Junhui added: “Of course, it cannot be said with absolute certainty that none of the sects’ secret techniques contain any moves from the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist. However, identifying which specific moves might belong to it is now impossible.”

Hu Yunyì then asked: “Then, Master, has no one over all these years managed to reconstruct the Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist?”

Junhui replied: “It’s said that a very long time ago, some people attempted to do just that. But since no one truly knew the exact techniques, nor whether the moves passed down through the generations included all 360 of them—or even if the transmitted techniques were correct—no one ever succeeded. Gradually, the matter faded from memory. For nearly a thousand years, no one has even mentioned it. If not for your question today, I wouldn’t have remembered it either.”

Ou Peng, struck by curiosity, asked: “Then, Master, if no one remembers this Great Celestial Cycle Star Fist, how did you come to know about it?”

Junhui chuckled and said: “When I was young, I once found an old, crumbling, incomplete book on your grandmaster’s shelf. It contained various strange accounts, one of which mentioned this very topic. I was deeply intrigued at the time and read it carefully, which is why I can answer your questions now. Were it anyone else, even the abbot of Dalin Temple, they likely wouldn’t be able to provide you with an answer.”

Hearing this, Ou Peng was filled with admiration and said: “Master, your knowledge is so profound—you’re even more knowledgeable than the abbot of Dalin Temple.”

This small flattery clearly pleased Junhui, who replied: “When it comes to martial arts lore, those bald donkeys at Dalin Temple may indeed not surpass me. However, when it comes to martial arts cultivation, I must admit my abilities are somewhat lacking. You must work hard to surpass them yourselves.”

With that, Junhui executed the Piaomiao Step, drifting away like a wisp of smoke.

This astonishing tale etched itself deeply into the minds of Hu Yunyì and Ou Peng. Yet, for decades, they never thought of it again—until now. Seeing Zhang Xiaohua using techniques that were both familiar and unfamiliar, with every move derived from the most basic fist techniques, and yet different from anything they had encountered before, Ou Peng’s attention was piqued, triggering Hu Yunyì’s memories.

Hu Yunyì noticed that Ou Peng seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he was. Just as he was about to speak, they heard the surprised voice of Monk Changgeng, nearby: “Sect Master Ou, what’s the matter with you now?”

Ou Peng realized his impropriety and quickly exchanged a glance with Hu Yunyì, suppressing his surging emotions with great effort. He sat back in his chair and, feigning calmness, said: “It’s nothing. I was simply so impressed by the remarkable skills of your disciple that I couldn’t help but stand up to applaud. Once I stood, I realized my behavior was inappropriate and might disrupt their match, so I quickly sat down again.”

Monk Changgeng, of course, didn’t believe him. Glancing at Hu Yunyì, who had also just sat down, he chuckled and said: “It seems that Master Hu shares your sentiment. Were you also about to applaud my Dalin Temple’s disciple?”

Hu Yunyì laughed and replied: “Indeed! Your temple’s disciples have won several consecutive matches. How could we not cheer and applaud for such exceptional performance?”

Monk Changgeng, though suspicious, couldn’t pinpoint what was amiss. Smiling faintly, he said: “Your young disciple isn’t bad either. To have lasted this long without defeat is truly commendable. However, he should still be cautious and avoid overexerting himself to the point of harming his body.”

Ou Peng and Hu Yunyì looked carefully at the arena and noticed that Zhang Xiaohua was indeed struggling. His punches lacked force, his footwork wavered, and it seemed as though a light tap from Yuan Kong could send him off the stage.

(At this point, I can’t help but add a few words. In truth, back when Zhang Xiaohua first mastered the Big Dipper Divine Fist, I could have explained it then. I could have revealed that Zhang Xiaohua’s innate talent is extraordinary, though he himself had no idea of the significance of what he had learned. He unconsciously drew upon the strengths of countless styles, mastering a fist technique that others mocked simply because they lacked the insight to recognize it as a return to the fundamentals—the very essence of martial arts. But had I written it that way back then, dear readers, would you have found it interesting?)