Before the words had even fallen, the old fiend suddenly leapt into the air with a wild roar, both palms surging forward with whistling force. Palm shadows crossed like lightning, his body darting swift as a gale as he pounced to strike. Wu Long instantly shifted into a retreating horse stance, bridging step to unload the incoming force, first gathering his inner strength, then rebounding it outward.
The Tianshan Old Fiend pressed in relentlessly. Wu Long raised his palms and sent them surging forth. Suddenly, two figures flashed and clashed in rapid exchange, attacking and defending with fierce precision. Palms snapped out, chopping and striking with exquisite mastery. The crowd, beholding such dazzling combat, could not help but exclaim in awe and cheer aloud.
At that moment, Wu Long unleashed his "Cold Ice Palm." Silently reciting the incantation, his inner energy surged, and an icy chill burst forth. His twin palms lashed out with ferocity, chaining sixteen continuous strikes in a heartbeat. Wherever the palm wind swept, the air froze bitterly cold; blades of grass were instantly rimed with frost.
Though the old fiend had pledged allegiance to the Tianshan Sect's Heavenly Lord of Yinshan, he would not have dared show himself without real skill. Possessed of formidable techniques, he maneuvered with care, retreating sixteen steps, defending steadily. He knew Wu Long's palms were fierce and unyielding. Unless he countered strength with cunning, defeat would be certain. Thus, with feints of footwork, he drew back, deflecting the force.
But Wu Long's Cold Ice Palm was steady yet shifting, its force direct yet ever-changing. Seizing the flow, the old fiend suddenly invoked his "Eagle Claw Art." With a burst, he vaulted into the air, unleashing "Eagle Strikes the Sky." His arms spread like wings, talons raking down with a force that seemed to rend the very air, a predator swooping upon prey. The claw wind tore toward Wu Long's vital points, sharp and merciless.
Wu Long's expression remained calm, his palms flowing endlessly with profound skill. He twisted, deflecting the onslaught, his own strikes weaving against the talons. The two clashed in midair for three exchanges. Their palms collided with thunderous detonations, the shockwaves blasting dust and grit skyward. For half an hour the duel raged, neither side gaining the upper hand. Palm winds churned the air into storm, waves of force rippling outward, leaving spectators breathless and enthralled.
Suddenly, the old fiend bellowed, springing aloft. His twin palms roared like tempests, whistling screams echoing across the hilltop. With a savage smash overhead and a sweeping strike, his technique "Sweeping Through a Thousand Troops" unleashed a violent gale, scattering stones across the ground. Wu Long countered with "Frozen Earth." A blizzard-like force erupted, plunging the air into bitter cold. For an instant, the old fiend faltered. But then, channeling his full inner energy, he pressed onward. Their palm winds collided with a detonation like crashing waves, blasting a shockwave in all directions.
Their hands traded blow after blow. The old fiend launched "Lightning Flash"—his body darting like a phantom, shadows multiplying, his palms crackling with speed like thunderbolts. Wu Long remained unshaken, instantly responding with "Soul of Ice, Spirit of Snow." Palm winds swept forth, and snowflakes filled the heavens, veiling the battlefield in a storm of white.
They exchanged dozens of blows in the blink of an eye. Then Wu Long's body quivered, his palm power suddenly shifting. He channeled his full inner energy, sending a strike straight into the old fiend's chest.
"Boom!"
A deafening crack split the air. The old fiend shrieked, hurled backward as if struck by lightning. He crashed into the snow, blood trickling from his lips, eyes wide with terror.
All fell silent as Wu Long's voice rang out:"Tianshan Old Fiend, cease your folly. Persist in this path, and you shall not leave this place alive!"
The atmosphere froze, the onlookers holding their breath. No one dared move.
Moments later, the old fiend staggered up, battered and bleeding. Bowing toward the Heavenly Lord of Yinshan, he gasped:"Mercy, my lord. I fought with all my strength yet could not prevail. I beg your forgiveness."
But before his words could settle, the swish of a robe cut the air. A scream tore out as the old fiend's body shriveled and collapsed lifeless to the ground.
The Heavenly Lord's voice dripped with venom:"Yinshan Sect has no use for the useless."
With that killing blow, the Lord cowed the entire assembly. Tianshan Sect Master Deng Tian shook his head, sighing inwardly: Such are the ways of the demonic path—cruel and heartless. He seized the moment to speak aloud:"This is proof! Evil sects walk the crooked way, committing vile deeds. Slaying your own servant—how shall the martial world accept this?"
The Heavenly Lord roared in fury:"Spare me your prattle! Any who wish to leave Yinshan Sect may go—yet none of you shall!"
Though he spoke thus, none moved. The tension was thick, the silence uncanny. Then the Chief Judge of the Underworld, Cui Fujun, called out with authority:"Hear me! The Underworld Judge Sect upholds martial justice. Any who wish to leave Yinshan Sect shall have our protection, safe from harm!"
Yet, from the Yinshan ranks came cries instead:"The Heavenly Lord of Yinshan is peerless! His power shakes the ages! None can oppose him!"
The chant rolled on, until the Heavenly Lord raised a hand. Silence fell. With a chilling laugh, he declared:"The Six Great Sects think to destroy Yinshan Sect? Not so easily. My followers have consumed the Yinshan Death-Pill. Without the antidote, they cannot live, cannot die, cannot be saved. Thus, none can betray me—for none can be slain but by my will!"
Indeed, in Tang times from emperors to peasants all lusted for alchemy. The Heavenly Lord exploited this obsession, refining pills that enslaved his sect. The Death-Pill lay dormant, yet when the appointed hour struck, agony wracked the body—poison upon poison, ensnaring his followers forever.
Hearing this, Wu Tong's fury ignited. With a single stamp he shot into the sky, soaring like a hawk, swift as lightning. He spun in midair, diving down in a strike called "Wild Goose Enters the Sea." Before his feet touched ground, his palms flipped and hammered toward the Heavenly Lord. Caught off-guard, the Lord had no time to evade—he could only meet the blow.
"Boom!"
The crash thundered. The Heavenly Lord staggered backward, gouging furrows into the ground with his heels, blood surging in his chest, his face paling. Yet he forced a sneer, snarling:"Wretch! A sneak attack? That is no hero's way!"
Wu Tong answered coldly:"And is poisoning your own followers the deed of a hero?"
"Who are you, boy?" the Lord demanded.
Wu Tong's gaze was unflinching:"I am Wu Tong, Master of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness."
The Heavenly Lord's heart jolted, but his face betrayed nothing. He sneered:"You dare presume before me? Very well! Let the Ghost-bane, Wang Yu, teach you manners!"
From the ranks stepped a grim figure, his voice booming:"Wu Tong! Ghost-bane Wang Yu shall test your vaunted skill!"
But then, a lilting voice drifted over. Liu Yun alighted gracefully, smiling sweetly:"The master of Loyalty Hall should not waste his blade on chickens. Allow me, Liu Yun, to test this so-called Ghost-bane."
Wang Yu barked a laugh:"Bold girl! Ghost-bane shall grant you first strike—let us see what you have!"
Even as he finished, Liu Yun's slender hand unfurled, unleashing "Wind Returns with Falling Snow." Her palm danced lightly, graceful as drifting petals, yet brimming with hidden force—gentle as spring zephyrs, fierce as rolling thunder.
Wang Yu's eyes narrowed. A yin-yang transforming art—remarkable! He dared not underestimate her. With a surge of inner energy, he lashed his right palm down like a tiger from the mountain, fierce wind cleaving straight toward Liu Yun's shoulder.