Just as Wu Tong's party was leaving Luoyang, the men of the Heilong Sect were heading into the palace to attend the great banquet. By sheer mischance, the two groups crossed paths. Fortunately, Wu Tong's companions had already disguised themselves with altered appearances, and thus slipped past unnoticed.
According to the records, Yan Zhuang proclaimed an edict declaring Prince An Qingxu Crown Prince, all matters of state to be decided by him. Soon thereafter, An Lushan was said to have abdicated in favor of Prince Jin, An Qingxu, and was honored as Retired Emperor. None outside knew that An Lushan had in truth been murdered by those three.
Once enthroned, An Qingxu abandoned all restraint, indulging daily in banquets and debauchery. He ignored affairs of state, built pavilions and pleasure boats, drank and reveled through the nights, and even seized his own cousin by force, declaring to her: "The world is mine, and so are all the women beneath heaven. I take as I please!" His conduct recalled the infamous Sui tyrant, Emperor Yang. Government he left wholly to Yan Zhuang, whom he addressed as elder brother, while he himself wallowed in endless pleasures.
Meanwhile, Wu Tong's party made their way through Luoyang's streets. Hooves rang softly on the cobbles; the farther they went, the sparser the passersby. At last, leaving the city gate, they mounted their steeds and galloped westward. Autumn winds moaned, yellow leaves swirled, and though the rivers and mountains still held beauty, the shadow of war loomed heavy.
After a day's travel, they neared a small town. As they rode along, speaking quietly, a shout rang out ahead: "Stay out of this!" Wu Tong and his comrades started, urging their horses forward to investigate.
On the highway they beheld two armed groups confronting each other, tense as drawn bows. Worse, a crowd of refugees—merchants, women, and children in tattered garb—were trapped between them, weeping in terror. Clearly, these poor folk had already suffered long.
At the center, two martial men had been locked in combat, but now paused, each measuring the other. One was about forty, broad-shouldered and imposing, with sharp brows and tigerish eyes, his whole bearing radiating majesty. Sweeping his gaze around, he thundered:
"The Duoming Sect has run rampant too long! To rob travelers of their coin—perhaps. But to seize women and butcher innocents—such cruelty defies all humanity! Having encountered you today, how could I stand idly by?"
This was none other than Chen Hao, chief escort of the Capital Escort Bureau, famed throughout the martial world for his skills and his chivalrous deeds. Passing by and seeing Duoming Sect waylaying fleeing merchants from the capital, his righteous wrath flared, and he had stepped in without hesitation.
From the Duoming side, a burly brute now leapt forth—tiger-backed, bear-waisted, his face brutish, eyes feral as a wolf's. He barked a harsh laugh: "Hand over your life!" With a sudden surge, he bounded like a tiger, feet pounding, body twisting midair. In an instant his palm came crashing down at Chen Hao's crown.
This was Qin Bao, the fearsome "Fierce-Clawed Tiger," favored lieutenant of the Duoming Sect Master He Tianbiao. His strength was monstrous, his palm force savage, his name notorious across the land.
Yet Chen Hao did not flinch. Calmly, he raised his left sleeve, bent his wrist, and sent forth his right palm with a mountain-like steadiness. The two palms collided with a thunderous crack; the blast of energy sent Qin Bao staggering back seven or eight paces, his footing shuddering before he steadied himself. His face changed, his eyes wide with shock.
Just then, a cold voice boomed: "Chen Hao of the Capital Escort Bureau—be wise and withdraw! Meddle further, and you'll leave here in pieces!"
All turned to see a towering black-faced giant step forth, a figure wreathed in killing aura, like a beast from the battlefield. His great fists were knotted with veins, his gaze burning with ruthless menace.
This was He Tianbiao, Master of the Duoming Sect, known as the "Black-Tiger Palm." A warlord of the underworld, he commanded countless rogues and brigands, preying on the people, his crimes beyond reckoning.
Chen Hao's eyes narrowed, but he showed no fear. "Petty thieves and curs dare flaunt their might beneath the open sky?" he retorted.
He Tianbiao's brow furrowed, eyes flashing like cold steel. "Persist, and my hands will show no mercy. I'll grind your bones to dust!"
Chen Hao laughed coldly, lifting his swordlike brows. "Why press me so hard? I wished no quarrel, but since you insist—blame only yourselves for what follows!" His tiger eyes blazed; his stance rooted like a mountain, ready for battle. The air grew heavy, yellow dust rising, killing intent thick as stormclouds.
He Tianbiao roared: "Chen Hao, you overstep! Taste the Duoming Sect's supreme art—Sixteen Palms of Death!" With a violent spring he launched into the air, his palms slashing down in a storm of lethal strikes. Each blow crackled with murderous force. "Take your doom!"
Chen Hao remained composed. Meeting the storm, he shifted steps with practiced ease, intercepting the blows with a sweeping arc. His palms crossed before him. "Then receive the Empty-Bright Palm!"
Thus began a clash of titans—Sixteen Palms of Death against Empty-Bright Palm. Chen Hao sank his weight, unleashing the move "Void Yet Not Void," palms rebounding in rapid succession. He Tianbiao's face darkened—this opponent was no common man! With sudden sidesteps, he countered with "No Entrance, No Exit," his palms pressing fiercely forward, strike upon strike aimed at Chen Hao's vital points.
Chen Hao darted aside, swift of eye and hand, his right palm drawing a curve to deflect, then snapping forward toward He Tianbiao's chest in the move "No Retreat." He Tianbiao's heart lurched; he leapt back several steps, then bellowed: "No wonder your words were so bold—the Empty-Bright Palm is truly formidable!"
Chen Hao stood with palms across his chest, righteous and unyielding. "Leave now, lest you regret it!"
But He Tianbiao, pressed to the edge, would not yield. He growled: "The Sixteen Palms of Death are not so easily dismissed!"
Once more he lunged, his palms whirling in deadly arcs. The strike "Soul-Grasping Seizure" swept for Chen Hao's chest, throat, and legs all at once, fierce and unrelenting.
Chen Hao, unshaken, thought: This man's skill is indeed formidable—not one to be treated lightly. At once he shifted into "Tranquil Heart, Steady Spirit," retreating with subtle steps, parrying calmly. His arms flashed with three swift moves in sequence—"Void Yet Not Void,""Seems Void Yet Not,""Void Yet Ever Real." Each counter sharp and precise.
He Tianbiao answered in kind, his own hands flowing through "Gate Without Exit,""Roving the Rivers,""Form Presses Relentless." The two masters exchanged blows, strike upon strike, the air booming with each collision. Neither yielded ground; the battle raged in stalemate, their power evenly matched.
At last they broke apart, then surged forward again, palms clashing with renewed fury. For over a dozen rounds they traded earth-shaking blows. Though He Tianbiao's Sixteen Palms of Death roared with tigerish ferocity, Chen Hao's Empty-Bright Palm was refined, pure, and mighty, his bones and sinews tempered, his strength unparalleled. For now, the two stood locked in perfect balance, the fight without victor.