“Son of a bitch, damn your mother!” With thunderous crashes, wood chips flew across the arena as “Shandong Bear” clashed violently with “Mongolian Tiger.” The northern warriors fought savagely with their hands while cursing crudely with their mouths – one asking about the other’s aunt while the other inquired about his mother, each insulting their opponent in their native dialect. Iron fists collided, both suffering injuries – one struck his opponent’s mouth corner while the other delivered a heavy blow to his enemy’s abdomen. This was the fourth brutal fight of the “Five Trials of the Martial Star” – China’s second fighter Song Tongming battling fiercely against Mongolia’s mainstay Hulin Tekhan.

At this moment, four consecutive battles had already taken place on the arena. Except for the first match where Yu Chuanzi was kicked off the platform, giving Mongolia the first victory, all the rest were dominated by China alone. The four great families were truly extraordinary – after Gao Tianwei’s consecutive victories in breaking through five trials last year, this year it was Song Tongming’s turn to display great prowess. First, he used his “Divine Blade Force” to injure Zongze Siba, avenging Yu Chuanzi, then relied on the true skills of his “Soaring Eagle Precious Blade” to repel the second formation’s wing fighter “Lone Scorpion King” Jin Chaqin. Now he was engaged in decisive battle with the third formation’s mainstay general Hulin Tekhan.

With Mongolia having lost two consecutive matches, if Hulin Tekhan were to lose again, only the fourth formation’s wing fighter Wuye Mingwang and the formation-guarding general Zhe’er Dan would remain. The Mongolian generals, remembering last year’s disastrous defeat in five consecutive matches, naturally felt greatly alarmed, whispering among themselves and devising strategies.

That Zhe’er Dan, however, neither spoke nor moved, sitting still like a stone statue. Looking at him facing downward, motionless as a mountain, one could not discern any joy or anger whatsoever.

Song Tongming roared out crude words and threw a punch that struck Hulin Tekhan squarely in the mouth corner, causing this Mongolian tough fighter to spit white foam. However, this man was truly a fierce and brave fellow – despite the pain on his face, he still swung out a palm that heavily struck Song Tongming’s abdomen.

Seeing Song Tongming retreat backward, Hulin Tekhan let out a strange cry and suddenly leaped into the air, both legs channeling power like an elephant as he kicked toward the chest. Song Tongming was now weak throughout his body and couldn’t dodge. In desperation, he roared: “Divine Blade Force!” His power spread through his chest, and his internal energy reached everywhere, actually shattering the strong enemy’s leg bone. Hulin Tekhan screamed miserably and flew backward, rolling straight into the western pavilion. Song Tongming, having taken the heavy kick, also spat fresh blood and tumbled off the platform.

Those below, witnessing this mutually destructive carnage, couldn’t help but cry out in alarm. These two had previously fought with weapons to no decisive outcome, then competed with fist and foot techniques, yet this too was fought with such bloody wind, rain, and flying sand and stones. Yang Shaoqi and others, being court officials, naturally had to witness the victory or defeat, but these demons and monsters fought uglily and cursed filthily, like an unrestricted gathering that was unbearable to watch. Several witnessing officials at the side conferred and then elected one person to stand up and say: “The generals of both countries are severely injured and unable to continue fighting. This battle ends in a draw!” A bronze gong immediately sounded. Hu Zhilian wiped away cold sweat, ordered people to clean up the arena, and announced loudly: “Next match – China’s mainstay versus Mongolia’s wing fighter. Please have both sides’ generals take the stage.”

Everyone craned their necks to look, and saw a foreign monk emerge from the western pavilion. This person wore kasaya robes, carried a Buddhist staff, had a tall and large frame with unusually broad shoulders – he was the lama “Wuye Mingwang” who had earlier exchanged words with Juan’er. This monk had a bald head and rough features, with his lower jaw covered in whiskers. Looking at those thick sideburns, each hair was like iron, appearing curled and dense – even before making a move, he was already quite frightening.

With a tiger and wolf before them, no one knew how China would respond. It seemed this battle would require either a heroic knight or a famous general to take the field. The guests were speculating when suddenly they heard a delicate shout, and a figure flew out from the eastern pavilion, landing on the arena in the blink of an eye. The newcomer had eyes like autumn waves and stood with straight back – she was actually an extremely beautiful female knight-errant.

The female knight-errant made a “hey” sound as she drew her long sword, her movement techniques extremely graceful. The arena above and below immediately erupted in thunderous cheers, with several childish calls from the viewing stands being most prominent, shouting: “Aunt Juan, beat that bald monk to pieces!” This beauty called “Aunt Juan” was naturally Juan’er, who had recently taken over as head of Mount Jiuhua. Hearing the calls, she glanced sideways with charming eyes and saw several children on the viewing stands – A’Xiu and Hua Mei were clapping and cheering excitedly, waiting for her great display of prowess. Looking beside Hua Mei, however, sat a stunningly beautiful young woman – it was her senior sister who had come.

Juan’er smiled and nodded, wanting to wave in acknowledgment, but she saw people below whispering to each other, several people asking each other: “Isn’t she the divine nun Shi Juan? How has she returned to secular life?” Juan’er felt angry and glared fiercely at Hu Zhilian, her gaze full of fury. That Minister Hu coughed dryly several times and quickly lowered his head to avoid her gaze.

Juan’er looked toward the foreign monk and was about to speak when at that moment, a low voice came from below the platform, cupping hands in salute: “Aunt Juan.” Juan’er looked sideways and couldn’t help but let out a low exclamation. A tall, sturdy man with thick eyebrows, large eyes, broad shoulders, roughly twenty years old with dark skin, was gazing at her intently. Juan’er smiled and said: “How did you come here too?”

That tall, sturdy youth cupped his hands seriously and said: “Father knew Aunt Juan was going to compete in martial arts, so he wanted Chongqing to come watch and learn a few moves.” Juan’er smiled in response, and before her eyes appeared a square face – that old face weathered by wind and frost yet carrying deep warmth and care that one couldn’t help but accept. Dimples appeared on Juan’er’s cheeks as she thought: “Brother-in-law is truly thoughtful, even sending his son to look after me.” Seeing the youth’s concerned gaze, Juan’er waved at him with a smile: “Watch carefully as Juan’er wins this battle. When your father returns to the capital, you must tell him everything…” Just as she was thinking, the foreign monk across from her said fiercely: “Little girl, are you going to fight or not?” Juan’er’s dimples faded, replaced by rolling her eyes as she thought: “How annoying, I always encounter these persistently troublesome fellows.” She lightly combed her hair and, imitating the foreign monk’s tone, scolded charmingly: “Fat monk, are you going to speak human words or not?” The foreign monk roared like a tiger and immediately responded with foreign words. Hearing that angry cursing gurgling along, though the meaning was unclear, it surely wasn’t anything good. She made a face and stepped forward. Suddenly, the foreign monk struck first, his Buddhist staff smashing out with extremely fast momentum, the fierce wind hitting her face painfully and hotly. Seeing the iron staff as thick as a sea bowl smashing toward her, Juan’er gave a light shout, touched the ground with both feet, and instead rushed straight toward the Buddhist staff. Those below, seeing this dangerous move, couldn’t help but scream aloud.

That Buddhist staff was so heavy it could immediately smash a flower-like beautiful woman until her brains burst out, turning her into a bloody mess. Hua Mei was so frightened her whole body trembled, shrinking into her mother’s embrace and saying tremblingly: “Mama, auntie is going to be beaten to death.” The young woman kissed her daughter’s cheek with a smile and said: “Silly child, our Mount Jiuhua’s kung fu is just about to be displayed. Quickly raise your head and watch.” Hua Mei, seeing the foreign monk’s fierce features, felt afraid and still lay in her mother’s embrace for a long time, not daring to lift her head. But she heard a boy laugh: “Coward, Aunt Juan is about to win. Don’t miss it.” Hua Mei hated most when people called her cowardly. Hearing A’Xiu’s teasing, she immediately climbed out of her mother’s embrace, glared fiercely at A’Xiu, then turned to look at the platform.

With this look, Hua Mei immediately felt extremely surprised. She saw that Aunt Juan had already dodged the Buddhist staff’s direct smash, using extremely dangerous body techniques to slide along the staff. Her lightness skill was graceful and her appearance beautiful – in the blink of an eye, sword light flashed out, already pointing toward “Wuye Mingwang’s” throat.

The Mingwang hadn’t expected this young lady’s martial arts to be so formidable. In great shock, he could only hastily dodge, relying on the Buddhist staff in his hands spinning and dancing to create an impenetrable defense, thus barely escaping with his life. However, Juan’er moved swiftly back and forth, advancing and retreating on the arena like lightning, entering as if into an uninhabited realm. Her lightness skill and swordsmanship coordinated flawlessly, attacking until Wuye Mingwang was in complete disarray, only able to rely on brute force to smash at his opponent’s sword blade. If the two weapons had been of equal weight, or if Juan’er had no regard for preserving her long sword, Wuye Mingwang would probably have already suffered a miserable defeat.

Those at the sidelines, seeing her beautiful appearance as merely a weak woman, had somewhat looked down on her. Only after witnessing her movement techniques did they realize this woman’s martial arts were extremely extraordinary and absolutely not to be underestimated. The Mongolian experts below the platform all had discerning eyes and couldn’t help but admire.

Zongze Siba nodded and said: “They say the Azure Robe Scholar’s lightness skill is brilliant – indeed, his reputation is well-deserved. Even his disciple is this formidable.” His voice was loud and clear, heard by all present. However, when the four words “Azure Robe Scholar” were spoken, there was immediately a series of low exclamations. The witnessing officials could be seen whispering to each other, and in the distance on the viewing stands, the imperial envoy frowned and shook his head, clearly showing displeasure. Looking again at the eastern pavilion, several experts had sorrowful and resentful gazes, their eyes seeming to breathe fire. Zongze Siba’s heart sank as he silently groaned: “How stupid of me! Why did I bring up the imperial court’s taboo? I’m going to get scolded later.” Hua Mei was full of wonder, not knowing why everyone became terrified upon mention of those four words. She turned to look at her mother, wanting to ask, but when mother and daughter’s eyes met, she saw her mother’s gaze was sorrowful as if very distressed. Hua Mei had always been clever and intelligent. Seeing her mother’s expression, she immediately stuck out her tongue and dared not ask another word.

On the platform, Juan’er, hearing those four words, was also instantly covered with frost, displaying great anger. The Mingwang was already no match, and when Juan’er angrily pressed her attack, he became even more demoralized and retreated repeatedly. Juan’er intended to decide the battle quickly. She immediately gathered her energy and leaped up, her form spiraling continuously, actually flying higher and higher. Once this body technique was revealed, logically the sidelines should have burst into loud cheers, but everyone, remembering that taboo name, naturally held back the cheers that reached their lips, and not a single person applauded.

Juan’er’s form was graceful and elegant. She was seen flying into mid-air, her long sword pointing out and scattering dots of sword flowers. Her wrist contained residual strength, surely having variations within her moves. The Mingwang knew defeat was imminent and had no choice but to take risks. He immediately crouched down cross-legged, holding his Buddhist staff upright, intending to use strange moves to block Juan’er’s sword path.

In the midst of fierce battle, sitting down on the ground – this opening was sold far too obviously. Seeing the Buddhist staff standing upright facing her, Juan’er was naturally unafraid. She deliberately showed off her body technique, instantly rushing toward the Buddhist staff in reverse, her body plummeting down rapidly. Those at the sidelines cried out in alarm, seeing she was about to be pierced through the chest and die tragically on the spot. Suddenly, Juan’er’s delicate body twisted lightly, avoiding the iron staff stabbing toward her body at the critical moment, then her long sword slid down along the staff – in the blink of an eye, it would disable the foreign monk’s five fingers.

Victory and defeat were already determined. Just as the outcome seemed decided in an instant, suddenly Wuye Mingwang released his Buddhist staff, using both knees to push his body actually jumped up from thin air. Originally, this person’s entire kung fu lay in his knees, being proficient in Indian yoga sitting meditation techniques. This risky move was entirely waiting for Juan’er to descend, then he would use strange and unusual moves to determine victory or defeat, thinking that with this martial art’s mysterious and unpredictable nature, Central Plains experts would surely fall into his trap.

One person descending, one person leaping up, their forms crossing in mid-air. Juan’er hadn’t expected her opponent could actually use the strength of both knees to jump so high. Momentarily startled and caught off guard, Wuye Mingwang coldly laughed and thrust both palms straight out toward Juan’er’s soft chest, instantly gaining the upper hand. If these palms struck the chest, not only would Juan’er be severely injured, but there would also be improper implications.

The chest and breast area was a woman’s place of dignity, absolutely not allowing strange men to touch even a finger. Naturally, cries of alarm arose from below the platform. A’Xiu and Hua Mei clasped hands tightly – these two small children had originally seen auntie gaining great advantage and expected certain victory, but unexpectedly a sudden change occurred and Aunt Juan was actually in great mortal danger. The two children looked terrified and couldn’t even speak. The beautiful woman, however, smiled silently without the slightest worry, only extending her hand to stroke her daughter’s head, indicating she shouldn’t be afraid.

Just as Juan’er was about to be severely injured, at this moment a stream of energy secretly shot forth, heading straight for Wuye Mingwang’s chest. That energy was hidden within a black shadow – looking at its shape, it was perfectly round, actually a sand pellet the size of a fingertip. Though the energy’s force was strong, the sand pellet made no sound breaking through air, so the foreign monk was completely unaware and continued thrusting out both palms.

With a light “pop” sound, the sand pellet struck his body and immediately shattered and scattered, but the force contained within the pellet was like mountains collapsing and seas overturning – the energy rushed in and in the blink of an eye sealed all of Wuye Mingwang’s meridians.

Wuye Mingwang couldn’t move, but the shock in his heart was even more indescribable – he didn’t know how Juan’er, with both hands motionless, could restrain his acupoints from mid-air. Just then, Juan’er had already descended to the ground. She was heard giving a delicate shout: “Reverse Rolling Pearl Curtain!” Her right foot extended forward, left hand forming a sword gesture, bending her waist backward and raising her sword to chop down in reverse. Three moves of extreme speed – swish, swish, swish – three sounds passed like a single move executed. This move “Reverse Rolling Pearl Curtain” originally possessed feminine grace, and when suddenly executed, it was like a fairy’s transcendent beauty. Instantly sword flowers bloomed and cold light filled the air. Amid the shocked cries of all present, Wuye Mingwang spurted fresh blood directly, his chest actually struck by three consecutive sword blows, his body falling backward with extremely severe injuries.

Juan’er was startled and screamed: “This… you… why didn’t you dodge…” Previously when the two had exchanged moves, Juan’er had already tested that her opponent’s power was formidable, absolutely not comparable to ordinary martial world figures, which is why she used her proud ultimate technique for blocking and parrying. Who would have expected that when the two were each using exquisite moves to compete, the Mingwang would actually freeze in the midst of fierce battle, not knowing to dodge at all? Juan’er was both afraid and ashamed, saying in panic: “Uncle, I’m sorry.” She immediately rushed to embrace the Mingwang, hurriedly taking out wound medicine from her bosom to apply to him. The Mingwang’s breathing gradually weakened as he slowly said: “Young lady… small… splitting air palm power… great great… monk admires…” The martial arts competition between China and Mongolia was absolutely not a life-or-death struggle – it had always been conducted with restraint, never involving fatalities. No one had expected such a sudden turn of events, with the dignified Mingwang suffering such a miserable defeat under a beautiful woman’s sword, the tragedy exceeding all previous matches. In shock, there was complete silence – not a single person cheered.

Juan’er, seeing her opponent’s severe injuries, blamed herself and tears flowed down her cheeks as she actually began crying aloud. Hu Zhilian, Haichuan Zi and others, fearing a death had occurred, all rushed onto the platform to treat Wuye Mingwang, everyone bustling about in confusion with bandages and wound medicine flying everywhere.

With victory and defeat decided, Yang Shaoqi and others, being court officials, how could they discern there was another mystery involved? After immediate consultation, they determined Juan’er the victor. Naturally, another bronze gong sounded in the arena – this match between mainstay and wing fighter was again won by China.

With the Mingwang’s miserable defeat, all four Mongolian generals had fallen, leaving only the final person. Under everyone’s urging, Juan’er, face covered in tears and sobbing pitifully, took the stage to await the last opponent for the final contest.

A huge black shadow stood up from the western pavilion. The black shadow removed his upper garment, revealing a broad and solid chest, then immediately strode forward with large steps.

The fearless are invincible. Tatar nation’s foremost expert Zhe’er Dan entered the field for instruction! Zhe’er Dan stepped onto the arena without a word, gazing fixedly at Juan’er. This person was a contemporary grandmaster – merely casually assuming a horse stance, even without uttering a single word, his overwhelming presence made Juan’er somewhat afraid.

At this time, Wuye Mingwang was still lying on the arena. After Juan’er had applied spiritual medicine, the blood flow from his body had greatly slowed and his life was no longer in danger. Zhe’er Dan picked up Wuye Mingwang and ordered people to take him away, then picked up the Buddhist staff he had left behind, looking sideways toward the edge of the arena.

Suddenly there was a tiger’s roar like thunder as he forcefully hurled the Buddhist staff. With a tremendous crash, the iron staff was embedded diagonally in the arena floor, smoke dispersed and dust rose greatly. Everyone looked intently and saw the Buddhist staff standing before a tall, sturdy youth. Juan’er on the platform was puzzled and uncertain, while spectators below discussed among themselves – no one knew Zhe’er Dan’s intention.

Zhe’er Dan stared at that youth, the two gazing at each other from afar. The foremost person of the northern desert extended his index finger, the fingertip fixed on that youth’s body. For a long, long time, he drew his hand back to his neck, making a horizontal gesture across his throat – his manner was extremely provocative. The youth lowered his head toward the ground, neither responding nor answering, only the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as if hiding a cold smile.

Juan’er, seeing his strange behavior, couldn’t help but ask in amazement: “This elder, you… your opponent for this contest is me…” Zhe’er Dan seemed not to understand Chinese. Only after Juan’er spoke twice did he turn his neck back to look at Juan’er. His tiger eyes were majestic and brilliant with cold light – just one glance made Juan’er unconsciously retreat several steps. Zhe’er Dan smiled slightly and suddenly spoke several sentences in gibberish. Though his tone was gentle, this person’s imposing appearance still made people dare not look directly at him. Juan’er felt afraid and could only grip her sword hilt with full alertness.

Just then, Zhe’er Dan took large strides forward, already approaching her. This person was nine feet tall, a rare tiger-like man, taller and larger than all the previous fighters, yet though his body was heavy, his footsteps were remarkably fast. The arena was ten feet long and wide, but Zhe’er Dan needed only one flying leap to reach Juan’er’s front.

Juan’er was greatly alarmed. Her wrist gently extended as sword light shot forth. Suddenly her vision blurred – a black shadow circled around toward her side. In an instant, the two were face to face, merely three feet apart. Juan’er’s small and delicate form, even when standing on tiptoes, could only reach the person’s shoulder. Thinking of how she had killed and wounded his general, not knowing what terrible fate awaited her, her heart turned cold and she wanted to flee to the side.

Mount Jiuhua’s lightness skill was proud throughout the current age – leaping and turning all had unique mental methods. Juan’er touched the ground with her feet, about to escape, when suddenly there was a tremendous sound beneath her feet as the arena shook, causing Juan’er’s footing to become unstable so she couldn’t jump up.

Her opponent seemed to possess demonic arts and magic. Juan’er didn’t know why this was happening and could only stand dumbfounded on the arena with her mouth agape. Zhe’er Dan’s eyes were half-open and half-closed as he smiled slightly, then shook his head – his manner like an elder admonishing a junior not to resist further.

Though the disparity in strength was extreme, the two were engaged in martial competition – no matter what, she couldn’t surrender. Juan’er’s face was deathly pale as she lightly touched the ground with her feet, again trying to fly away. Suddenly she heard Zhe’er Dan roar violently and extend his leg to stomp forcefully on the arena. With another tremendous crash, the arena shook again and Juan’er, unable to jump up, fell down once more.

Only then did the experts in the eastern and western pavilions understand that Zhe’er Dan was using the “Grounding Birds” technique to restrain Juan’er. Everyone’s hearts were shocked and for a moment there was complete silence – even the Mongolian generals were dumbfounded and no one cheered. On the viewing stands, A’Xiu, Hua Mei and others, concerned about auntie’s victory or defeat, all widened their eyes in terror, only desperately praying she wouldn’t be beaten to death or injured.

When ordinary people walk or jump, no matter how great their strength or how far their steps, the initial first step requires firmly planting the foot on solid ground. If the ground below is unstable, it’s like being on a floating boat in the vast sea – unable to receive support from below, naturally unable to run or jump. Though the arena’s foundation was solid, it couldn’t withstand Zhe’er Dan’s heavy legs. Every time Juan’er tried to jump, the arena would shake violently. With her footing unstable below, she naturally couldn’t exert force – even if her lightness skill were ten times higher, she still couldn’t move a step.

Juan’er’s mouth corners trembled as she repeatedly tried to jump, but Zhe’er Dan’s foot-stamping caused the ground to shake, preventing the delicate maiden from rising. After five attempts, finally the northern desert’s foremost expert extended his hand, gentle and tender, lightly caressing Juan’er’s pink and tender cheek. Seeing this barbarian general’s expression like a father treating his beloved daughter, the four sides of the venue erupted in great commotion.

The martial arts disparity between the two sides was too vast – though they hadn’t truly exchanged moves, victory and defeat were already evident on the platform. Yang Shaoqi and other court officials whispered among themselves, all discussing the battle’s outcome. That tall, sturdy youth stopped at the arena’s edge, head lowered toward the ground, but didn’t say much.

At this time, though victory and defeat were decided, Juan’er hadn’t been injured or fallen, nor had they truly exchanged techniques in combat. If she insisted on continuing to fight, it was certainly possible. However, her opponent had already shown mercy – if Juan’er stubbornly sought battle, it would only force him to strike heavily, and a bout of physical pain would be inevitable. Juan’er’s face was pale as she thought of herself as China’s third formation mainstay, with two more companions behind her. Her duty required her to at least drain some of the opponent’s energy. She bit her lower lip and was about to raise her sword for an attack when at that moment she heard someone beside her say coldly: “Let her go. I’ll fight you.” An iron spear’s shadow moved, pointing directly at Zhe’er Dan’s nose. Everyone heard the clear and bright voice, thinking the person entering the field must be a refined and elegant figure. Juan’er turned to look and indeed saw a fair-faced youth holding an iron spear, coldly glaring at Zhe’er Dan – it was China’s fourth formation wing fighter “Hebei Zhu Iron Spear” who had entered the field! Zhu Kang had long intended to pursue Juan’er and rarely had such an opportunity to play the hero saving the beauty – naturally he wanted to display great prowess. Indeed, that iron spear was held like a mountain’s solidity, like a peak’s dignity – ten parts out of ten handsome bearing.

Though Zhu Kang was only in his twenties, he was the sole heir to the current Zhu Iron Spear lineage. With his fair scholarly face, sharp spear techniques, and hereditary noble rank, he was a famous jade-faced gentleman in the martial world. The spear was a red-tasseled spear, and the gentleman was a refined gentleman. Zhu Kang held the spear in his right hand while his left arm embraced Juan’er’s waist, gently pulling her away, then immediately shouted: “Mongolian, don’t be so arrogant! I am the Third Generation Master of Hebei Zhu Iron Spear, Zhu Kang! Today I shall compete with you to let you know the might of the superior nation!”

As soon as these words were spoken, a woman’s delicate cry immediately came from the eastern pavilion: “Kang’er, fight well! Mother is watching here!” Fighting on the arena while bringing one’s mother along – naturally everyone on and off the stage was amazed and turned to look. They saw several beautiful women surrounding a white-haired old woman, clapping and cheering – the loyal and martyr family of the Zhus had arrived. Zhu Kang’s face turned red as he pretended not to hear.

Though the “Zhu Iron Spear” family business was large, the direct bloodline had long since withered. Decades ago during great national turmoil, the three Zhu brothers died one after another – some on battlefields, others from worry and indignation – leaving only the old grandmother and grandson to depend on each other. With all the men of the family having passed away, the household of widows was filled with grief, transforming their tears into tender affection, pouring three thousand times their doting love onto Zhu Kang. Except for his grandmother who was somewhat strict, all the other mothers, aunts, and elder aunts indulged and pampered him without limit. However, these women following him like shadows inevitably restricted him everywhere. For this reason, Zhu Kang had never been able to truly win respect in the martial world, and his pursuit of women often failed because of this, naturally making him deeply troubled.

It was precisely for this reason that this battle was Zhu Kang’s fight to establish independence – he absolutely could not lose. Thinking that honor and disgrace all depended on this single battle, Zhu Kang naturally exerted all his power. Holding the spear with both hands, he raised the spear tip directly toward Zhe’er Dan’s nose, with less than an inch between them. Under his internal energy infusion, the iron spear’s red tassel actually stood up slightly like a lion’s mane.

Zhe’er Dan was over sixty years old and could be considered a grandmaster predecessor of the northern martial world. With Zhu Kang’s such provocation, the Mongolian experts in the western pavilion all angrily scolded and cursed, chattering in foreign language. Hearing the shouting, Zhu Kang had no intention of moving his spear tip away. His handsome eyebrows slanted upward as both hands gripped the spear shaft, waiting for Zhe’er Dan to move slightly so he could attack first.

The two were separated by about a foot when Zhe’er Dan suddenly sighed and shook his head. He extended his finger to lightly touch the spear tip. Though his words were incomprehensible, his hand gesture clearly indicated for Zhu Kang to withdraw his weapon.

Zhu Kang coldly laughed. Having finally gained an advantage, how could he willingly give it up? Instantly he shouted: “Barbarian! Take this!” The spear tip lightly pointed as the red tassel trembled like rosy clouds, rolling toward the Mongolian grandmaster’s throat.

Just then, Zhe’er Dan smiled lightly and flicked his finger slightly. Suddenly there was a strange “buzz” sound. Zhu Kang only felt his tiger’s mouth burning hot as the long spear in his hand shook violently outward. Zhu Kang was shocked, puzzled, and panicked, hastily adding strength to his hands and gripping the iron spear with all his might. But the strange force transmitted through, making his footing unstable, and he spun around in a large circle involuntarily.

Seeing Zhu Kang spinning like a top, everyone below the platform cried out in alarm. Zhu Kang tried hard to steady his footing, but that force was too powerful – even exerting all his dantian’s strength, he still couldn’t control his steps. Just as he was getting frightened, Zhe’er Dan reached out and casually grabbed the spear shaft. A domineering force poured down, immediately stopping the spinning momentum. Zhu Kang’s face was deathly pale, feeling nauseous from the spinning. At this moment, Zhe’er Dan’s left hand came over to grip the other end of the iron spear. Two large hands, left and right, each gripped the spear shaft like iron clamps. Zhu Kang’s whole body trembled as he stammered: “You… what are you trying to do?” Zhe’er Dan grinned and suddenly exerted force with both hands, roaring angrily. The iron spear, subjected to tremendous force, gradually bent and deformed. Soon the spear shaft became more and more curved, and before long it was like a rope, wrapping around Zhu Kang’s body in a circle.

Zhe’er Dan laughed heartily, adding more strength to his hands. In the blink of an eye, the iron spear over ten feet long had coiled three times around, binding Zhu Kang up. Zhu Kang’s face was deathly pale, wanting to cry but having no tears. Zhe’er Dan, still not satisfied, lifted him by the collar with one hand and casually threw him toward the eastern pavilion, hurling him toward the widows.

A mournful cry was heard: “My son!” Amid the screams, the young master of the Zhu family flew out thirty feet high, then fell down. Though his descent was swift, he didn’t crush the wooden chairs but landed steadily beside his mother. Seeing that Zhe’er Dan had no intention of harming anyone, his hand strength contained hidden mysteries that allowed the iron spear young master to remain unharmed.

Though Zhu Kang escaped death, he couldn’t escape punishment. As soon as he sat down, his mother embraced him fully, repeatedly asking: “Where are you hurt? Where are you hurt?” Zhu Kang was both anxious and angry, but bound by his own iron spear, he couldn’t move at all. The pavilion was full of his own relatives – the old and ugly was grandmother, the young and beautiful were the mothers. Men and women hurriedly tried to pull at the iron spear, but like dragonflies shaking a pillar, they couldn’t twist it even slightly, let alone straighten and flatten it. Zhu Kang was utterly ashamed and wanted to commit suicide, but his hands were bound. In grief and indignation, he was about to bite his tongue to end his life when several Zhu family widows hastily stopped him, and for a moment the crying shook the heavens.

Song Tongming suppressed his laughter and immediately leaned over, imitating a woman’s tone and saying coquettishly: “Kang’er! You absolutely cannot do anything foolish!” When his romantic rival called him this way, Zhu Kang cried out even more miserably, wanting to find a hole to crawl into. Juan’er, seeing several Zhu family ladies with tearful eyes all giving her meaningful looks, nodded understandingly and gently persuaded: “Young Master Zhu, be good and don’t cry. Look, I also lost, didn’t I? But I’m not crying. Later we’ll find a blacksmith to help. Just bear with it for now, okay?” This Juan’er was worst at comforting people – her few words of consolation sounded more like mockery. Sure enough, hearing these words, Zhu Kang felt as if his heart’s most painful spot had been poked, and finally burst into loud weeping. The Third Lady Zhu’s face was deathly pale, not knowing what to do, only desperately holding back the old grandmother from slapping her grandson’s face again.

Zhe’er Dan used military force with ease. The northern nation’s foremost expert had effortlessly defeated both a Chinese female knight and young hero without breaking a sweat, treating the arena like a game and not considering China’s young heroes as opponents at all. Yang Shaoqi and others, seeing this, were naturally horrified. This time they didn’t even need to deliberate and directly announced the battle results.

Defeat was defeat, but how could it be such a complete loss of face? The Mongolian envoy laughed heartily and snatched back the brocade flag from Minister He. Minister He was both angry and annoyed, jumping up and down in rage, but his hands held on tightly and wouldn’t let go. The guests throughout the venue also discussed among themselves.

Hu Zhilian sighed and lamented. This “Five Trials of the Martial Star” involved the interests of both nations – winning wasn’t good, losing wasn’t good either. That’s why he had sent out a group of young talents, originally intending to drag it to the fourth formation for a draw. Who knew the enemy’s final formation general was truly extraordinarily brave, consecutively toying with Chinese experts like an adult playing with children. When this matter spread throughout the martial world, China would surely lose all face. The more Hu Zhilian thought about it, the more panicked he became, and he couldn’t help asking: “Where is Master Su of Mount Hua? Why hasn’t he taken the stage yet?”

He asked several times but heard no response from Mount Hua disciples. Hu Zhilian coughed dryly and asked Mount Hua’s Zhao Laowu: “Where is your sect’s Master Su? Why hasn’t he come over yet?” Hearing the question, Zhao Laowu only gave muffled grunts of “eh, heh, heh.” Hu Zhilian was both angry and annoyed, shouting loudly: “Elder Zhao! Where is Master Su?” He shouted repeatedly, and strangely, every time he called out “Elder Zhao,” he heard a “mama,” followed by an “ah, son,” like singing an opera. Hu Zhilian looked intently and saw Zhao Laowu standing beside Zhu Kang, exerting effort with the Zhu family members to pull at the iron spear binding Zhu Kang. But the iron spear was wound too tightly – every pull made Zhu Kang cry out in pain while his mother gently comforted him.

Hu Zhilian covered his face and smiled bitterly, not knowing what to do, sighing: “Master Su, if you don’t come soon, what will we do?” Just as he was talking to himself, a middle-aged man’s voice came from beside him: “Minister, don’t worry. My young lady Qiong has gone to find Master Su. She’ll be back soon.” Hu Zhilian turned around and saw this person had an elegant appearance. His heart immediately tensed, and he quickly bowed: “Master Fu.”

Hu Zhilian could see clearly – this person was surnamed Fu, named Yuanying, with the nickname “Rain Maple.” His beard was two feet long, with vermillion lips and phoenix eyes, elegant appearance. This person was the junior brother of the former “Number One Under Heaven” and the current master uncle of the present sect leader Su Ying. When Ning Bufan sealed his sword and retired, Fu Yuanying was ordered by the sect leader to assist the young sect leader for five full years. Only after Su Ying came of age did he accept the Imperial Father-in-law’s invitation to serve as sword instructor at Purple Cloud Pavilion, living in the capital with his wife and children. He was a romantic hero of Mount Hua’s previous generation.

Hearing Fu Yuanying mention the name of the Qiong family’s young lady, Hu Zhilian felt even more troubled. With Imperial Father-in-law Qiong backing Mount Hua, Su Ying was like a prince consort – who dared provoke him? These imperial relatives came when they pleased and fought when they wanted. If this sect leader decided to disappear without a trace, the one who would be punished was himself. He sighed but didn’t dare say anything more, only quietly waiting for Su Ying’s arrival.

Zhe’er Dan was an imperial guard general, most favored by the Khan. Seeing that the Mount Hua sect leader had not arrived for so long, he didn’t mind. He beckoned to his own people, and a large group of disciples came to serve their grandmaster – some carrying chairs and serving tea, others massaging his back and rubbing his waist. Zhe’er Dan reclined on the chair with eyes half-open and half-closed, occasionally sipping hot tea, truly treating the arena like his own backyard. It could be said he completely ignored everyone.

The fearless are invincible. Zhe’er Dan had spent his whole life wandering the great desert. Seeing that Central Plains experts, though famous in reputation, were actually refined and weak, unable to withstand a single blow, he squinted his eyes, but his lightning-like gaze occasionally swept toward the area below the platform, glancing sideways at a dark, sturdy youth.

That youth was extremely tall, nearly nine feet high, not much shorter than Zhe’er Dan. Though glared at sideways by Mongolia’s foremost expert, he showed no discomfort. He merely stood with arms crossed over his chest, facing downward. Looking at his clothing – he wore a completely black robe with a dragon-patterned red belt around his waist, appearing noble and extremely spirited. This youth must come from an official family and was surely an important figure in the Chinese court.

After a long time, Su Ying still hadn’t arrived. The Mongolian envoy grew impatient and kept urging the Chinese side to send someone to the arena. Hu Zhilian also knew the opponent’s general had an extraordinary background – he was formerly a guard general of the Tatar nation. With their fifth fighter still not arriving, it was quite discourteous. He sighed and had to send out a court musician to tell Zhe’er Dan to be patient and wait a little longer.

The court musician went to the western pavilion and spoke a few words to Zhe’er Dan. Mongolia’s foremost expert replied with a smile. Seeing Zhe’er Dan was quite polite, Hu Zhilian secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Soon the court musician returned and said: “Reporting to Minister, that General Zhe’er Dan said if the Mount Hua sect leader doesn’t come, that’s fine too. He wants to choose his own opponent himself. I wonder if you can accommodate this?” Hu Zhilian said frantically: “This… how is this possible? If this old fellow picks some weak scholar to go up, wouldn’t that be taking advantage of us?” Just as he had this petty thought, suddenly there was an angry shout from the opposite arena. A black shadow flickered, and an object flew straight toward Hu Zhilian, frightening Minister Hu into waving his hands frantically. At this time, “Sword Instructor” Fu Yuanying sat beside him, Point Cang Sect Leader Haichuan Zi also sat nearby, and Divine Blade Sect’s “Second Master” Song Deguang was also not far away. The three men saw the black shadow spinning rapidly with fierce momentum breaking through air – it was a teacup. The three great experts, fearing Hu Zhilian would be injured, all quickly stood up. Fu Yuanying stood closest and, deeply afraid the teacup contained internal energy, didn’t dare reach out to catch it and was about to draw his sword to slash it. Suddenly he saw the teacup make a large arc in mid-air and, with a whoosh, took a strange path, actually rushing straight toward a black-clothed youth at the edge of the arena. It seemed Zhe’er Dan’s intention was to have this person come out for the contest.

Everyone was puzzled and uncertain, but the black-clothed youth showed no surprise. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, quite coldly. Instantly, like lightning, he reached out his hand. His eyes didn’t even look at the teacup as he raised one arm horizontally, spread his five fingers, and prepared to catch the teacup in his hand.

Just then, another hand reached across in front of the youth first and grasped the teacup. The youth was slightly startled and looked up. Instantly, a plain and calm voice sounded: “Sorry about that. Please step aside and leave the field. This contest is mine.” Everyone heard this person speak with utmost confidence and all craned their necks to look eagerly. They saw a young man holding the cup in his right hand and carrying a sword in his left, smiling as he looked back at everyone in the arena. This person was twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. Not far behind him stood another exceptionally handsome young gentleman. Since Qiong Fang was standing below the platform, if this young man wasn’t the Mount Hua sect leader Su Ying, then who could he be? The arrival of the “Number One Under Heaven’s” final disciple immediately caused everyone in the eastern pavilion to cheer loudly – it seemed Su Ying’s relationships were quite good.

Su Ying made a bow in all directions and was about to step onto the arena when suddenly his hand tightened. He was shocked to see the youth gripping the teacup, his face filled with killing intent. Su Ying smiled slightly and said with a smile: “Friend, do you like this cup? Here, I’ll give it to you.” Saying this, he released the teacup and handed it to the youth.

Su Ying deliberately teased him – how could the youth not be angry? Instantly he raised his eyes, both eyes flashing with anger, two beams of brilliant light shooting out. Though Su Ying didn’t recognize this person, seeing his chest out and back straight, feet planted solid as mountains, he was undoubtedly a martial artist. He smiled slightly, patted the youth’s shoulder, and said with a smile: “Friend, your gaze is too cold. This will hinder your martial progress.” Hearing these words, the youth’s eyes blazed even brighter, his displeasure completely unhidden. Su Ying smiled slightly. With a great enemy before him, he naturally had no time to deal with such boring matters and immediately took his sword onto the platform, leaving the youth frozen in place.

The youth’s mouth turned downward, tightly pressed. On his dark face, a flash of fiery color passed, and the red belt around his waist, originally hanging limply, now seemed to float slightly as if blown by a gentle breeze. He raised his left foot, about to step forward with dragon steps, when suddenly a beautiful woman approached and said sweetly: “Chongqing, they’re about to compete. Come, let’s go sit over there.” This woman’s voice was tender and crisp – it was Aunt Juan’er. She took the youth’s hand and smiled as she arranged his clothing, saying with a smile: “How’s the situation at the front lines… Your father will come back for New Year, won’t he…” Below the platform, gentle breezes blew like early spring, but on the platform, killing intent was thick like severe winter.

A figure slowly walked across the arena. The Mount Hua sect leader raised his sword and walked forward, turning to look at that fearless and invincible northern expert, Mongolia’s formation-guarding general Zhe’er Dan. The two stared at each other intently. Zhe’er Dan suddenly opened his mouth and said: “Ning, Bu, Fan?” Ning-Bu-Fan, Ning Bufan. Zhe’er Dan didn’t know Chinese, his accent was strange, but he was indeed asking about that name that shook the four seas.

The name of Ning Bufan, “Number One Under Heaven.”

Su Ying smiled slightly, raised his long sword with both hands, spun it around in a circle, then stepped forward with his left foot, actually beginning to dance.

This was the “Crane Dance Seven Star Steps.” When twelve-year-old Ning Bufan solved Mount Hua’s 140-year-old puzzle, he connected contemporary martial arts with Tianyin Daoist’s Three Reach Sword. Seeing this temple fair and deity worship-like dance steps, all Mount Hua disciples cheered loudly.

Su Ying didn’t speak, but this single dance had already explained everything: though the world was vast, only he had inherited Ning Bufan’s peerless swordsmanship, and only he could truly call himself the heir of “Number One Under Heaven.”

Zhe’er Dan hadn’t expected Ning Bufan’s heir to be so young. He only nodded lightly, his expression remaining calm as usual. He cupped his hands and made a fist salute, slowly spreading both hands apart, raising his left fist above his shoulder while his right palm guarded his lower abdomen. This was his self-created new technique, also the new martial art he had comprehended from devastating defeat – “Great Black Heaven Fist.”

With two great experts about to fight, in the complete silence, whether it was the young and adorable A’Xiu and Hua Mei or the high-ranking and powerful Minister He, hundreds of eyes throughout the venue were all focused on the two people on the arena.

One was of average height, about seven feet, the other had a bear-like tiger build, reaching nine feet tall. One was past sixty, the other not yet thirty – a difference of thirty years. An old steed challenging a youth – their relative power levels were obvious at a glance. However, everyone inside and outside the arena understood that this contest was absolutely not a comparison of ages, nor was it a contest of aged and mature internal energy. This was a clash transcending martial ways, a confrontation between swordsmanship and fist techniques.

The ultimate realm of martial arts – empty-handed supremacy. From the moment of birth into this world, one comes empty-handed. Whether fists, feet, hammers, or elbows, as long as the hands are empty, it represents returning to simplicity and existing in nature. This was the kung fu Zhe’er Dan practiced.

Quite the opposite, Mount Hua had no empty-handed martial arts. Everyone at Mount Hua practiced swordsmanship.

Su Ying hadn’t removed his sword sheath. He merely gripped the sword hilt, silently looking at his opponent who was two heads taller than him. Seven-foot-tall Su Ying had neither a robust and solid chest nor elephant-like thick arms. Compared to the nine-foot-tall, imposing Zhe’er Dan, he was just an ordinary person. A small child who had come before lions and tigers.

However, the sword in his hand made him no longer weak and no longer an ordinary person. If Zhe’er Dan was a fierce tiger, then he was a hunter.

The Heavenly Way is hidden within the Way of the Sword. Through the sword one knows Heaven, through the sword one seeks the Way. Ordinary mortals become extraordinary because of the sword. When cold light flashes, even the most tender child can battle fierce tigers. With a sharp edge in hand, everyone has claws – there’s no distinction of tall or short, fat or thin, strong or weak. The only difference lies in the level of comprehension.

Conscience, compassion, comprehension – these were the differences between humans and beasts, also the distinctions between genius and the ordinary.

The sword is the martial way of genius. The wretched and weak “Number One Expert Under Heaven” – this was how he earnestly instructed Su Ying.

The final battle of “Five Trials of the Martial Star” – “Three Reach Sword” versus “Great Black Heaven.” This battle concerned the victory and defeat of both nations and was naturally of great importance. It was not merely a contest of strength between Su Ying and Zhe’er Dan, but more a duel between empty-handed martial arts and swordsmanship – truly meaningful in its implications.

At year’s end, amid joyful celebration, this New Year period would surely be filled with festive cheer. The arena was wonderfully exciting, and the spectators on both sides watched intently – whether aunts, mothers, or even little sisters were all focused on watching the martial contest, so no one noticed that he had already left.

The black-clothed youth walked alone out of the training ground, coming to a deserted grove. Instantly he unfastened his robe, revealing his chest muscles bulging powerfully, both arms with blue veins coiling around them like dragons wrapping around pillars. That body of bronze sinews and iron bones was actually so magnificently imposing. He took out close-fitting night clothes and slowly dressed. Under the sunlight reflecting off snow, the brand on his right arm could be seen – wings spread high in flight, displaying his bright future of soaring to great heights.

Dressed entirely in black, holding a black hood, the youth’s eyes were brilliant and bright. The corner of his mouth, bearing a cold smile, turned up slightly as he tossed the teacup in his hand into the air. Suddenly he reached out to catch it, his tall and sturdy body raising the cup toward heaven as he tilted his head back to drink.

Snow fell throughout the sky – his manner was quite heroic, as if he wanted to toast the gods and Buddhas filling the heavens, celebrating together the arrival of this New Year period.