Thunderhand Xu Li and the Left Dharma King Meng Ming locked eyes, their gazes sharp as blades. Both knew they now faced a peerless master—this duel was no ordinary contest, but a clash to shake the martial world. They steadied their breath, each reflecting on the flaws of his own technique. Then, with a sudden surge, their inner strength roared forth. Their bodies jolted into motion, sleeves snapping, palm winds howling—the battle was rekindled in an instant!
Xu Li's figure blurred, his internal energy flowing with subtle precision. With a sudden leap he unleashed "Glimmering Light Across the Waters". His footwork shifted erratically—bounding, darting, vanishing like a phantom—his palms fluttered like shadows, dazzling in their unpredictability. Sleeves whirled, strikes feinted and shifted, every blow concealing another, confounding and elusive. Meng Ming was forced back, step by step, each parry heavier than the last—within moments he found himself pressed to the brink.
Meng Ming's eyes narrowed. If I continue retreating, defeat is certain! With a growl, he sank his qi into his dantian, planting his stance as steady as a mountain. His right palm thrust outward in "Tiger Crouches, Dragon Coils"! His lower body rooted like stone, his movements suddenly firm and unyielding. In that instant, he shed his disadvantage, his counter-force stabilizing the duel.
For the space of a tea's time, their palms clashed and parted, energy roared and shattered. At last, Meng Ming drew a sharp breath, his eyes blazing, and his inner force surged like a breaking dam. With a piercing cry he launched his ultimate strike—"Heaven-Defying Roar!" His twin palms swept forth like collapsing mountains, his energy crashing like tidal waves, a force fierce enough to flatten the courtyard.
Xu Li did not flinch. His gaze sharpened, and his qi surged outward. Shoulders sank, breath condensed, he too answered with a cry—"Winds Sing, Thunder Rolls!" The Wind-and-Thunder Palm manifested in its most profound form, fierce yet supple, its force reverberating like storm and lightning entwined.
The two strikes met with a cataclysmic roar. Palm winds shrieked, sleeves whipped violently, and the clash resounded like thunder splitting heaven. Neither man could retreat—this was to be decided by strength of will and depth of cultivation.
Then— BOOM! A deafening blast split the air. The shockwave rippled outward, sand and dust billowing as if the earth itself had shuddered. Both fighters were hurled backward. Meng Ming skidded three paces before regaining balance. Xu Li staggered seven steps, chest heaving, his breath unsettled. Victory and defeat were clear to all eyes.
A stunned silence swept the crowd, followed by a collective gasp. They had just witnessed a duel that would be remembered for generations.
Meng Ming straightened, clasped his hands, and admitted:"Thunderhand Xu Li—you are indeed a hero of our age!"
Though his expression was grave, Xu Li forced himself upright, his face pale. Having retreated more steps, he knew he had lost the exchange. With a heavy sigh he cupped his fists:"The Left Dharma King has bested me. Yet if you think this alone can force us to abandon the Anti-Rebellion Assembly, you are mistaken!"
Meng Ming's mission had been to prevent the canal gangs from uniting against the rebel armies. Reluctant to escalate further, he declared in a booming voice:"Today's gathering was meant for deliberation. I came under orders of the Black Dragon Sect's Master: each gang should keep to its domain, live in peace, and avoid needless strife!"
But at that very moment, Qiu Feng, leader of the Phoenix Gang, rose to her feet. Her voice rang with clarity:"I, Qiu Feng, leader of the Phoenix Gang, say this—if each gang only clings to its own petty interests while the people suffer, what meaning is there in 'peace'? An Lushan is a traitor who has thrown the land into chaos, leaving countless innocents homeless. How can we stand idle and call ourselves men of honor?"
Meng Ming's face hardened. If I return empty-handed, how shall I answer to the Sect Master? He barked:"So Qiu Feng insists on joining the Anti-Rebellion Assembly?"
Qiu Feng's eyes glowed with resolve."Indeed!"
The Dharma King's voice turned cold."Then know this—our sect came to counsel with good words, yet you treat them as wind in the ears. Very well! Do not blame us for showing no mercy!"
Qiu Feng's gaze was like a drawn blade."Then allow me to test the skills of the Left Dharma King myself!"
For a moment Meng Ming wavered. He had wished to unleash the sect en masse, crushing the gangs in one decisive blow. Yet with the crowd watching, to gang up on one challenger would bring scorn upon the Black Dragon Sect. Snarling, he accepted:"Enough talk. Come!"
In the next breath, Qiu Feng moved like lightning. Her figure blurred, flashing across the space as if weightless, her palms thrusting forward with ghostly silence. The strike was sudden, fierce, and precise—Meng Ming was caught off guard, scrambling to parry. Their palms met with a resounding crack, both driven back several steps.
Qiu Feng sneered:"So this is the famed Left Dharma King? Your skill is hardly worth mention!"
Shame flushed Meng Ming's face. He roared, unleashing "Tiger Leaps the Mountain!" His figure lunged like a descending beast, claws tearing through the air, palms battering in rapid succession. Each strike thundered like an avalanche, his qi surging in violent torrents. Dust flew, the earth itself seemed to tremble.
But Qiu Feng had already set her heart. Her movements were calm, her bearing unshaken. Her body flowed like drifting silk, her sleeves fluttering as she lifted her palms in the technique "Four Ounces Move a Thousand Pounds." Round and soft, her strikes spiraled and turned, redirecting Meng Ming's brutal force with effortless grace. His savage waves of energy crashed against her, only to be dispersed, absorbed, and dissolved as though into the sea.
For Qiu Feng was heir to the teachings of Abbess Miaochang, whose creation, the supreme Soft Palm, was rooted in the Dao itself. Inspired by the words of the Dao De Jing: "The softest thing under Heaven overcomes the hardest. Water benefits all things, yet contends with none." From this she forged a martial path of supreme suppleness—fluid, yielding, inexhaustible.
Now Qiu Feng whispered her heart formula:"The Soft Palm follows the way of water. Its nature is yielding, its virtue supreme. To yield is to endure. To bend is to overcome. Flow without ceasing, and even stone shall wear away."
Her palms turned, weaving in endless patterns. She invoked "Highest Good Is Like Water". Her steps drifted like clouds, her body swayed like flowing streams. No matter how Meng Ming clawed and struck, his blows fell empty, his force dissolved. He grew pale with fury, sweat beading at his brow.
At last she unleashed "Endless Current". Her qi surged in waves, palms rolling forward with ceaseless momentum, layer upon layer, like the ocean tide. Caught within, Meng Ming found no purchase, every attempt to counter swallowed by her boundless force. Pain shot through his chest as her energy pressed relentlessly against him.
The crowd saw only elegance and lightness—but Meng Ming, trapped within, knew the truth. This was no gentle stream, but the crushing weight of a river in flood. His eyes widened in shock. So this is the true power of the Soft Palm…! I underestimated her gravely!
Cornered, his thoughts turned grim. If I am to fall, I shall not fall alone. Better to drag her down with me! His qi spiked violently, desperation driving him to gamble all in one final strike.
Yet Qiu Feng only smiled faintly, her steps poised, her aura serene, ready to receive and redirect his dying effort.
The duel between the Phoenix Gang Master and the Left Dharma King had reached its most perilous and breathtaking moment…