Wu Tong's thoughts surged. He recalled his own master, the Immortal Baiyun—a gentle elder with kind brows who had taught and nurtured him day and night. Wu Tong had never dared forget that grace. In this very moment, he felt an unexpected respect for Guru Geleba as well, and countless feelings welled within him. Seeing Marpa's ingratitude, he could hold back no longer and shouted sternly:
"Marpa! In our Central Plains there is a saying: 'For one day a master, for life a father!' You are ungrateful and treacherous—beneath even swine and dogs!"
His words were sharp as knives, edges bared, piercing straight to the heart. All present turned to look, secretly admiring his courage and righteous spirit. Marpa's face changed; eyes bulging with rage, he ground his teeth and barked:
"My affairs with my master are no business of an outsider! What are you that you dare spout such wild talk here?"
As the air grew taut as a drawn bow, Luoben stepped out and called in a ringing voice:
"Marpa, the duel agreed between our two sects—this is the time for you and me to decide victory or defeat! No more delays and empty quarrels!"
With that, he sprang like a hawk, alighting in the center of the field, eyes like torches fixed upon Marpa.
Hemmed in by rebukes on all sides, Marpa's qi and blood churned with fury. He could bear it no longer and roared:
"Fine! Let us settle this now!"
At that instant, Guru Geleba lifted his face and sighed to the heavens, his voice low and far-reaching, heavy with disappointment and helplessness:
"Marpa, you act in anger, not in thought—you have lost before the fight begins. With a heart so fickle and impetuous, how can you ever become great?"
The admonition fell like cold water, but it only stoked Marpa's resentment. He said darkly:
"Luoben, I'll let you have the first move. Let me see what you truly can do!"
Luoben grew cautious. The Lama Sect has already come and lost three bouts in a row, yet this young Dharma King still speaks so arrogantly—does he truly have some astonishing technique? He said gravely:
"In today's battle, the grievances of our two sects will be wiped clean. Hereafter, when we meet again in the Jianghu, the disciples of the Jing Sect will yield no more ground!"
This was not for his own honor alone, but to guard the Jing Sect's foundation—he would not allow anyone to trample it.
Marpa sneered:
"Enough talk—let our palms reveal the truth!"
Luoben spoke no further. He rushed in, body like lightning, palms crashing forth. Hand rose and fell; palm-wind thundered, swift as a startled swan, driving straight for Marpa's chest. Though boastful, Marpa dared not underestimate him; he met the attack at once, every move at full strength, not daring the slightest carelessness.
The two exchanged fists and palms; the howling wind and crackling impacts seemed to shake the very hills, their momentum awe-inspiring. Having conceded the first attack, Marpa was forced into defense—he could barely parry and had already lost the initiative. Fortunately, Luoben struck with prudence rather than reckless force; otherwise Marpa might already have been overwhelmed.
The tension was extreme; the onlookers held their breath, eyes fixed upon this peak duel. Luoben pressed step by step, his palms flowing like drifting clouds and running water, every move exquisite. Marpa clenched his jaw and endured; though aggrieved, he marveled inwardly at Luoben's high skill. This was not merely a contest between two men, but the pivotal battle for the honor of their sects!
After a dozen exchanges, both had tested the other and gained a measure of each other's strength. A ruthless gleam flashed in Marpa's eyes. He loosed a clear shout that shook the wilds, then moved with gale-like speed, shifting between fist and palm, his techniques changing unpredictably as he pressed in. Luoben's sword brows lifted; his expression grew solemn. Tapping lightly with his toes, he skimmed up a full zhang like a swallow and unleashed the Void-Sundering Palm's ultimate: "Swift as Wind, Fierce as Lightning." His right palm shot down like a bolt, aiming at Marpa's vital points, the palm-wind keen, the momentum oppressive.
Marpa dared not meet it head-on. He slipped aside, body coiling like a spirit serpent to evade. In the same motion he turned, sprang three feet into the air, and hurled out both palms—"Not Knowing Bodhi," a supreme technique of the Prajñā Palm. Layered palm-shadows fell like a sudden squall upon Luoben. Luoben, masterful in his art, neutralized as he saw, flowing unhurriedly. But Marpa's offense shifted again and again—"Relentless Pressing" followed by "Entering Emptiness," palm-winds like raging seas. For a moment Luoben's footwork wavered; forced to dodge, he showed a hint of delay and had to retreat a step.
At the critical instant, Luoben's left foot slid back, left shoulder withdrew, right hand pressed down while his left hand lifted—"Whence Comes the Guest"—swift beyond compare, stabilizing the field in a heartbeat. He then changed form, turning defense to offense with "He Who Comes Is a Guest," shifting seamlessly between attack and guard until the tide evened. Calm-faced, he stood fearless before Marpa's desperate assault. Suddenly his left hand flicked out—"Heart Empty, Clarity Arises," cutting straight through Marpa's centerline. Marpa threw a right palm across to block—but Luoben's right hand darted like a spirit snake, driving into the central gate toward Marpa's chest.
Sensing the deadly force, Marpa was alarmed. Knowing the Prajñā Palm could not dissolve this strike, he thrust his right palm out with all his might, gathering his life's cultivation to clash head-on. Yet he was a hair too slow; his force had not fully gathered when it collided with Luoben's.
Bang! A tremendous report. Marpa felt his qi and blood churn, his viscera struck as if by thunder. He spat a mouthful of blood and stumbled back, grievously wounded.
Luoben did not pursue. He drew back his palms and stood with tranquil face:
"From this moment, the grievance of our two sects is wiped clean. Forgive this poor monk."
He traced a cross upon his chest—solemn and devout—as though placing a period at the end of the battle.
Silence fell. All watched, breath held, shaken by what they had witnessed. Marpa's face was ashen; he barely kept his feet. In his eyes flickered both unwillingness and a hint of release. He knew he was beaten and could not turn the tide. Guru Geleba sighed and stepped forward, supporting him:
"The outcome is decided. Clinging further is useless."
A verse says:
The Jing Sect meets fierce foes,Strange clouds roil and form;A startled swan, swift as lightning,Decides the match in the palm.
Suddenly, a cry rang out: "Luoben—well done!"All turned. Three figures approached, the speaker none other than Great Dharma King Aros, with Li Rui, Dharma King of Manichaeism, and Zhao Ke, Dharma King of the Fire-Worship Sect, at his sides.
Great Dharma King Aros said:
"Lama Sect of Tibet—time and again you harry the Central Plains. To what end? If your doctrine is righteous and kind, why would you fear other sects preaching their scriptures?"
Though defeated, Marpa remained defiant:
"The victor is king and the vanquished the outlaw. Having lost today's duel, what more is there to say?"
At that, Guru Geleba stepped forth:
"Masters of the Jianghu, Marpa is the successor to another branch of the Lama Sect, newly ascended as Dharma King—ignorant of heaven's height and earth's depth. I beg you all to be magnanimous and let the past be past."
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