Sima Lun, known throughout the Jianghu as the King of Black Eating, had some real skill—otherwise he would never dare to make a living plundering thieves and bandits alike. Yet the Black Wind Three Fiends flattered him day after day, calling him "peerless under Heaven" and "master of divine arts"—empty words meant only to please, their own schemes hidden behind praise.
Now, drunk on conceit and puffed up with pride, he looked upon Wu Tong with contempt, sneering:"Brat, let this King show you my skill! Go on—strike first!"
Wu Tong raised his hands, and his qi surged like a rainbow. His palms swept out, fierce winds roaring—forceful yet unbroken, crashing down like storm and thunder, pressing Sima Lun until he could scarcely breathe.
At the first clash, Sima Lun felt his tiger's mouth go numb, inner force shaken, his arms quivering. Wu Tong's assault rolled like crashing waves, endless and unstoppable. Startled, he retreated in haste, stumbling into a guarding stance, parrying desperately. Summoning his strength, he turned into Rotating Heaven and Earth, sidestepping with a twist, his ten fingers hooked like talons, stabbing straight at Wu Tong's dantian to finish him with one deadly blow.
But Wu Tong's body shifted fluidly. He slipped aside, and with a flick turned his counter—Northern Darkness Acupoint Strike! Using his enemy's method against him, he jabbed directly at Sima Lun's dantian!
Sima Lun turned pale. If struck there, his qi would scatter, his breath run wild—he would be gravely injured, perhaps crippled. He leapt back in panic, twisting to evade. Yet Wu Tong pressed on—wrist turning, fingers thrust out in Lightning Pierces the Clouds, the strike driving toward Sima Lun's Life Gate!
Sima Lun's hair stood on end. This boy combines palm and finger, truth and feint, transformations seamless—truly troublesome! In desperation, he rolled and tumbled, scrambling away in disgrace, barely escaping the lethal strike.
Wu Tong only smiled, handsome face glinting with irony:"Just a petty trick, and elder is already frightened?"
The crowd erupted in laughter. Disciples of the Northern Dipper Sect laughed the loudest, voices shaking the mountains. Sima Lun's face burned crimson with shame, fists clenched, eyes blazing with fury.
The King of Black Eating hurriedly straightened his robes, suddenly sober. He had boasted wildly, but now had become a laughingstock. Rage surged again, and he snarled:"Boy, don't grow cocky! This King has many skills yet! I only let you a few moves just now—don't get carried away!"
Wu Tong's tone was icy:"Hand over the Canon, and you may live."
Sima Lun's eyes darted. Around him were only the Black Wind Three Fiends, while the other side numbered many—including the Beggar Chief himself, who had yet to act. Already he was struggling against Wu Tong; if all pressed together, he would surely perish. His pride urged him to fight; his reason warned of certain defeat. To fight on is to die in vain.
Thus he hatched a scheme to retreat with face intact. Gathering his strength, he shouted loudly:"Wu Tong! Just now I was holding back. Now behold my true art—unfathomable, beyond gods and demons! Do not say I failed to warn you!"
With a crackling roar, his bones popped like firecrackers, shocking the onlookers.
Zhu the Fiend cried:"The King of Black Eating—his divine skill is unmatched!"
Hou the Fiend added:"Supreme martial arts, without equal under Heaven!"
Sima Lun leapt high, palms thrusting out in mid-air. Wu Tong gathered qi in his dantian, meeting the strike head-on. A thunderous bang! Dust flew, the ground shook—then Sima Lun's body shot backward, soaring a dozen yards before tumbling down. With a few wild leaps he vanished into the wilderness, gone without a trace.
The crowd stared in astonishment. So this was his trick—using the clash to hurl himself backward, seizing the chance to flee. His earlier bravado was but empty bluff, his great show of power merely cover for retreat.
The Black Wind Three Fiends, left behind, froze in dismay. Zhao Rou alighted gracefully before them, eyes cold with scorn:"Hand over the Canon, and I'll spare your lives."
Zhu the Fiend clutched the Canon like a burning coal, stammering:"Heroes… forgive us! Press me no further, else I'll destroy the Canon!"
But with a sudden blur—Cloud Hands Eight Forms, the move Trace Vanished Without a Shadow—Li Qian appeared as if from nowhere, stepping close and snatching the Canon clean from Zhu's grasp. Zhu gasped in terror, Hou panicked, and Zeng the Fiend, already wounded, could do nothing.
Zhao Rou mocked:"Elder Fei, how should we deal with the Black Wind Three?"
Beggar Chief Fei considered, then said gravely:"Such petty villains—feed them to the dogs, I say."
Li Qian clapped in delight:"As soon as Brother Tong draws the Crouching Dragon Blade, the Black Wind Three will meet Yama!"
At these words, the Fiends collapsed to their knees, kowtowing in terror:"Chief Fei, famed for mercy and righteousness—spare us! We were blind, offending without knowing. Great Chief, forgive us, grant us our worthless lives!"
Liu Yun's eyes glinted as she added:"Stealing another's Canon is unforgivable in the Jianghu!"
Chief Fei's face grew solemn. After long thought, he said:"This matter is for the Northern Dipper Sect's Master to decide."
The Three Fiends scrambled toward Wang Feng, kowtowing and weeping:"Master! We were blind and reckless, daring to offend your sect. We beg your great mercy—spare us!"
Wang Feng strode forward. Pa! Pa! Pa! He slapped each across the face. Having recovered the Canon, his heart softened. Though the day of his succession had been marred, the treasure was restored. To kill them now would only add needless bloodshed. He declared:"For the sake of Beggar Chief Fei, I spare you today. Go—and never return!"
The Three Fiends kowtowed gratefully:"Thank you, thank you for sparing our lives!"
Li Qian returned the Canon to Wang Feng, who bowed in thanks.
Thus, with the matter settled, the party departed. Toward dusk they came upon an ancient temple, its halls lofty yet long abandoned, perhaps ruined by war. Silent and desolate, it served as a perfect shelter. They lit fires, cooked their meal, and made camp for the night, resting at last within the quiet temple walls.