The two peerless young heroes now stood facing each other in the arena, gazes locked across the distance. Twin stars of the age, their confrontation bristled with killing intent. Truly it could be said:
"A mighty wind rises, the clouds surge high;Fame shakes the realm, awe fills the sky.Among such heroes, who but I?"
Their eyes clashed, sparks flying unseen, while the entire assembly of warriors held its breath. Tens of thousands of eyes fixed upon the two, every heart pounding in anticipation of this duel that would shake the martial world.
Wu Tong, courteous before battle, cupped his fists and bowed:"I have long admired your name. Let us cross hands empty of weapons."
His tone was calm yet brimming with quiet confidence, embodying the bearing of a true knight-errant.
Jia Yong, however, stood arrogant as ever, declaring aloud:"Only today shall the world see who is true hero, and who but an empty name!"
At these words, an uproar rippled through the crowd. Many thought his tone far too conceited—boasting before a single blow had been struck. Yet all knew Wu Tong's fortune and training had been extraordinary, his mastery undeniable.
Wu Tong's heart tightened. He saw clearly Jia Yong's overbearing pride, his killing intent blazing. He answered gravely:"Though I am but a thief of reputation, bringing no benefit to men nor world, even if you, sir, wield unmatched skill and strength to face ten thousand, without a heart of benevolence you will only bring harm to the martial realm."
His words were steady, firm, and rang with conviction.
The crowd stirred with admiration. Many nodded silently, moved by Wu Tong's noble spirit. Yet Jia Yong, stung, snapped:"Enough of your prattle! The worth of a hero is proven by strength alone. Let fists and palms speak—enough talk!"
Wu Tong's thoughts turned to the sages: "Ren—benevolence—is the true heart of a martial man. Confucius said: 'The benevolent help others to stand as they wish to stand, help others to reach as they themselves would reach.' Mencius said: 'The gentleman preserves benevolence and courtesy in his heart.' If a man forsakes benevolence, what name can he make? To seek Ren and attain it—what grievance could there be? Wealth and poverty alike are but dust; without righteousness, a man is but a corpse that walks."
He sighed inwardly at Jia Yong's blindness.
⚔️ The Duel Begins
The two heroes squared their stances. Murderous aura thickened, pressing upon the crowd until silence reigned. Wu Tong sank into a bow stance, arms sweeping in arcs before his chest, palms fluid as water, feet light and ready. His eyes shone sharp as lightning.
He said calmly:"Forgive my offense!"
Even as the words left his lips, he shot forth like a gale, executing "Across the Sky"—the second form of the Northern Sea Palms. His body whirled upward like an eagle stooping, his strike crashing down upon Jia Yong's brow with thunderous momentum.
Jia Yong, chastened by his near defeat earlier, dared not slight the attack. He twisted aside, palms crossing to block. Yet Wu Tong's assault fell like a storm of wind and rain, each step pressing in, each palm heavier than the last.
"How can his palms be so fierce?!" Jia Yong's heart quailed.
Wu Tong's strikes tore the air, every blow infused with surging inner strength, though his hands bore no blade. Each palm was weighty as a thousand catties. He advanced relentlessly, footwork swift and precise, pressing Jia Yong into dire straits.
Desperate, Jia Yong gathered his qi, roaring as he unleashed "Thunder Shakes Heaven and Earth." But Wu Tong had foreseen it. With a shout he loosed "Sea Boiling, Waves Crashing," a strike of torrential force. His surging qi drowned Jia Yong's counter before it could even form.
Jia Yong's chest reeled beneath the tempest. He flung out both hands, trying to meet the blow head-on.
"BOOM!"
The impact cracked the square like thunder. Jia Yong was hurled back like an arrow from the bowstring, stumbling four or five steps before he steadied, face pale, blood surging wildly within.
The crowd erupted in astonished cries. Had Wu Tong not mercifully drawn back his force at the last instant, Jia Yong would have spat blood from grievous wounds. Even so, his organs churned, his spirit shaken.
The young hero of Hebei—who only months before had humbled two Shaolin masters—was forced back within barely ten exchanges!
Wu Tong clasped his fists:"Brother Jia, I thank you for yielding."
But Jia Yong flushed with anger."Wu Tong! You struck first, seizing the advantage, gaining cheap victory—I do not concede!"
From the crowd rose the voices of hidden agents of the gambling dens, unwilling to accept the outcome.
"Fight again!""No true winner has been decided!""He is uninjured—how can the match be over?"
Their cries fed the swelling discontent, calling for a rematch.
Wu Tong, frowning slightly, said:"Brother Jia, if this is so, then let us make it plain—how shall we decide the victor? Speak openly."
Jia Yong faltered, stammering:"Then… let the combatants themselves decide the outcome, not others!"
Wu Tong nodded."So be it. We will begin anew. Since you claim I seized the first move, this time—you shall strike first. Take the advantage."
Jia Yong, shameless, sneered:"Of course. Be on your guard!"
Indeed, the saying goes: "None are more invincible than the shameless." The world had long paired their names—"North Jia Yong, South Wu Tong." Yet Wu Tong now saw clearly what sort of man stood before him.
He recalled the words of the Master:"Offer counsel with loyalty and guide with goodness. If they will not heed, desist—do not disgrace yourself."
And thus, the stage was set for the duel to continue.