The mountain wind howled, and the layers of forest turned golden. Meng Qi glanced at the five monks—Long, Xiang, Hu, Bao, and Peng—beside him, slightly raised his eyebrows, and turned back to say, “Your Highness, what if I don’t want to take the bet?”
He appeared relaxed, as if discussing something trivial.
Before Zhao Qian could reply, a eunuch standing nearby sneered, “To fear and refuse a challenge that is not insurmountable—how unworthy of your ‘Fierce’ title! You’ll only become the laughingstock of the world. In the future, instead of being known as the ‘Fierce Blade,’ you’ll be called the ‘Mouse Blade,’ timid as a mouse, with a blade as rusty as your courage, afraid of challenges and weak in will!”
He was trying to provoke Meng Qi.
Meng Qi remained calm and composed. Although he enjoyed showing off in front of others and loved his flamboyant nicknames, he had long grown accustomed to such provocations after repeated setbacks. What was this mere attempt at goading to him?
Smiling faintly, he replied without anger or impatience, “I have a stubborn personality. Whether to fight or not depends entirely on my mood, unaffected by others or public opinion. If I want to fight, no one can stop me, and no opponent, however strong, can intimidate me. If I don’t want to fight, even if you speak with silver tongues or the world slanders me, I will still remain as serene as a breeze brushing my face, or a bright moon shining over a river.”
He had changed his form of address, no longer using humble terms, but straightforwardly saying “I.”
Jiang Zhiwei nodded in approval of Meng Qi’s attitude. This was the heart of a true martial artist.
“It seems the ‘Fierce Blade’ isn’t so fierce after all,” sighed Zhao Qian. “My promise is something countless people across the land would dream to receive, enough to change many things.”
When provocation failed, he tried temptation with rewards.
Meng Qi laughed heartily, “I’ve lived this long without the Crown Prince’s promise and still turned out fine, still ranked sixth among the human list and renowned across the land. What’s there to care about whether I receive it or not?”
“I’m only eighteen and already within the top ten of the human list. Given time, perhaps I may even attain the Dharma Body. My promise may not be any worse than the Crown Prince’s!”
His confidence and boldness were evident, causing Zhao Qian to narrow his eyes slightly. The eunuch’s expression darkened, filled with resentment—how dare he compare himself to the Crown Prince!
Dharma Body? Hmph! How many generations of top ten human list warriors had it taken to produce just one with the Dharma Body?
The surrounding guards also changed expressions, not expecting Su Meng to be so arrogantly unrestrained.
“The ‘Fierce Blade’ lives up to his ‘Fierce’ title indeed,” Jiang Zhiwei whispered teasingly with a secret voice transmission, continuing Zhao Qian’s previous words to provoke Meng Qi.
Of course, with the Eight and Nine Arts, the Yuan Shi Golden Scripture, the first move of the Tathagata Divine Palm, and the first move of the Divine Xiao Nine Extinguishments, if he didn’t even have such confidence, what business did he have in the martial world anyway? Meng Qi gazed at Zhao Qian, his expression unchanged.
Zhao Qian clapped his hands and laughed, “Though the world’s voices may melt gold, they do not disturb his heart. Young Master Su, you truly possess the nature of a Buddha. It seems it was I who was clinging to appearances. Since you don’t wish to take the bet, then we won’t.”
“Thank you kindly for the Crown Prince’s understanding,” Meng Qi smiled and bowed, then his expression turned serious as he loudly declared, “Venerable Masters, I wish to issue a challenge!”
Huh? This sudden twist surprised everyone present. Even the holy monk Hua Yan was momentarily taken aback, his usual smiling expression slightly frozen, clearly unable to grasp Meng Qi’s thoughts.
Only Jiang Zhiwei smiled slightly, finding Meng Qi’s temperament quite similar to her own.
“Su Meng! Didn’t you say you wouldn’t take the bet?” the eunuch stepped forward, his anger rising, his voice sharp and shrill, like nails scratching a wooden board, provoking a prickling, irritating sensation in Meng Qi. At the same time, a thin stream of cold, sinister energy, like needles and swords, came from nowhere, making Meng Qi involuntarily shiver.
Meng Qi’s smile remained unchanged, his tone calm, “I said I wouldn’t take the bet, not that I wouldn’t fight.”
“If I were bound by a bet, forced to fight by others, I would feel resentment and refuse.”
“But without the bet, I feel free and at ease, eager to test my blade against strong opponents. His Highness said that the five of you together are no less formidable than any top ten warrior on the human list. I feel the urge to fight and am eager to try!”
His voice was not loud, yet it rang like thunder in the ears of many guards, who simultaneously thought: this is what a true martial artist seeking the Dao should be!
“Indeed,” Jiang Zhiwei murmured softly.
Zhao Qian was silent for a moment before his smile returned, “Whether to accept the challenge is up to the five Venerable Masters. I have no control over that.”
The eunuch whispered secretly to the five monks—Long, Xiang, Hu, Bao, and Peng: “Beat him! Teach him a harsh lesson!”
Daring to mock the Crown Prince and me like this—truly asking for death!
Master Long clasped his palms, his voice deep and hoarse, “Since Lay Devotee Su has issued a challenge, how can my brothers and I refuse?”
“Great!” Meng Qi turned around, hand on his sword, and strode outside the pavilion toward an open area.
His aura surged, powerful and mighty. With each step, he seemed to grow an inch taller, until finally, he appeared like a giant connecting heaven and earth.
Jiang Zhiwei’s eyes lit up. It seemed the young monk had not only mastered the “Heaven-Striking Five Thunder Strike,” but had also gained some initial insight. Combined with the effects of the “Yi Jin Jing,” every move he made exuded a sense of divine authority and supreme dominance.
The five monks—Long, Xiang, Hu, Bao, and Peng—followed him out, forming a half-circle, their positions resembling a winding serpent.
“Amituofo,” the five monks chanted in unison.
This chant seemed to open a “hidden gate.” The monks’ auras transformed, intertwining and connecting, spreading a serene and meditative atmosphere, as if some unseen exchange of energy and essence was occurring between them.
As this entanglement and exchange continued, Meng Qi felt their internal energies rising steadily, soon surpassing the limits of opening the acupoints, undergoing a transformation. Their energies became ethereal and empty, merging with the surrounding environment. Closing his eyes, one might not even sense their presence.
Moreover, their internal energies and auras strangely merged into one, flowing between the five bodies and the space between them, undifferentiated and shared among all, unlike any other combined martial arts technique.
They had become like a single entity, with heads and limbs, one embodying the unity of heaven and humanity, all five embodying it!
It would be impossible to say Meng Qi’s head had achieved heaven-and-human unity while his hand had not!
Indeed, they were no ordinary opponents… Meng Qi’s eyes half-closed, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
His reputation was well known. The battle at the Mountain God Temple had shaken the martial world, and his skill in fighting multiple opponents was widely recognized. Zhao Qian must have known this well. Yet he still chose to have five monks team up against him, clearly having some confidence. Now seeing this, it was indeed the case!
“Amituofo,” the five monks chanted again.
Outside the Half-Mountain Pavilion, the atmosphere nearly transformed into a realm of serenity. Even the soil beneath their feet seemed purified, as if the emotions of conflict, anger, and fighting intent were melting away, making one reluctant to raise a blade or strike a blow.
What formidable Chan cultivation! Meng Qi gathered his mind, using his “Broken Precepts Heart” to resist the serene influence. He gripped his sword tightly, drawing it from its sheath.
A flash of silver light dazzled the eyes. As the “Heaven’s Wound” was unsheathed, lightning danced around it, making Meng Qi seem even taller. He stepped on electric snakes and slashed his blade downward.
The sword force was heavy, like mountains and hills, causing thunder to boom in midair. Even before reaching them, it made the chests and abdomens of those facing it churn with blood and qi, making breathing difficult.
Master Hu, the tiger monk, was the first to meet the attack. He held prayer beads in one hand and struck out with the other.
The combined aura of the five monks gathered largely on Master Hu, turning his palm golden and his palm force mighty enough to split stone and metal.
Bang!
The palm struck the side of Meng Qi’s blade. Meng Qi felt an irresistible force, as if he had returned to the Six Doors training ground in Yingcheng, transformed into Yan Chong, with the five monks becoming Bai Qigu!
He did not resist directly. After blocking most of the force with his heavy lightning energy, he used the momentum to change direction, rushing straight toward Master Xiang, his form suddenly accelerating, his blade flashing like a winter lightning bolt.
But the monks’ aura shifted faster than Meng Qi had imagined, as smoothly as internal energy flowing within one’s own body, without the slightest hesitation.
Meng Qi’s blade was swift, yet Master Xiang’s palm strike matched its speed. With brows slightly furrowed and eyes serene, the monk timed his strike perfectly, unleashing the formidable power of Vajra, compelling Meng Qi to evade its full force.
At the same time, the remaining four monks, sharing the residual energy, struck from different angles, sealing all escape routes, giving Meng Qi the feeling of being trapped in an inescapable sea of suffering, as if he could only lay down his blade and attain instant enlightenment.
Meng Qi guided his blade, transforming the slash into a pulling motion. His body spun like a top, half deflecting and half using the force to his advantage. His blade flashed, ghostlike, slicing out from the five-way encirclement.
“So they have such a method of redirecting and neutralizing force. No wonder they are unafraid of fighting multiple opponents,” Zhao Qian remarked with admiration.
The eunuch sneered coldly, “Forced to use secret techniques so early on. I’d like to see how he redirects and uses force when the five holy monks are fully prepared!”
Meng Qi’s footwork unfolded, appearing illusory or real, fast or deceptive, not giving the five monks a chance to surround him. His blade flashed, striking each monk once—some fierce, some surging, some fast, some slow, some feinting, some real.
Yet the monks’ energy flowed seamlessly. Each monk who blocked Meng Qi’s blade seemed to possess the power of heaven-and-human unity. A simple Vajra Palm easily neutralized Meng Qi’s attacks, whether they contained complex variations or reached the peak of internal energy and strength. They denied him the chance to unleash his Exoteric Killing Moves, and prevented him from breaking through the encirclement from any direction.
They advanced steadily, step by step. After five moves, Meng Qi’s space to maneuver rapidly diminished. If another five moves passed, he would likely be forced into direct confrontation, fighting all five at once.
“Amituofo,” Master Long intoned, changing his palm into a claw, his finger pressure whistling like it would seize a dragon.
At the same time, the other four monks—Hu, Bao, Xiang, and Peng—joined forces in their assault. Some palms emanated Vajra power, shattering rocks and splitting the earth. Some finger strikes unleashed invisible gusts, carrying Zen intent to target pressure points. Some fists created voids, striking from a distance…
For the first time since the battle began, they launched a proactive attack, surrounding Meng Qi from five directions, like trapping a turtle in a jar.
Their energies flowed and shifted, the power of fists, palms, fingers, and claws constantly changing, making it impossible to discern who was the main attacker and who was the auxiliary.
Meng Qi inhaled deeply. Suddenly, his body shot upward. As the five streams of force converged, he twisted his body midair, where there was no leverage, and sharply changed direction, leaving the five monks’ attacks striking empty air.
Seizing the opportunity, he descended from above, his long blade slashing straight at Master Bao.
The blade light was hazy, transforming into the mortal world, disturbing the Chan mind and severing serenity!
“No wonder he is the disciple of the Seven Ultimate Hands,” remarked the holy monk Hua Yan with a knowing smile as he observed the earlier movements.
Zhao Qian stood with his hands behind his back, his smile unwavering, as if this change was still not enough to trouble the five monks—Long, Xiang, Hu, Bao, and Peng.
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