"Green, green are your robes; my heart longs unendingly.For you alone, I have lingered in thought till this very day."
These four simple lines, praised for a thousand years, still echo with meaning profound, inviting endless reflection. Short Song Style overflows with brilliance—its artistry leaps from the page beyond question. Its beauty lies in its subtlety, a charm that can never be exhausted.
But let us return to the present tale. These two men, each a hero of his age, carried ambitions as vast as heaven. That they bore such towering desires—what surprise is it? Both were warlords of the martial world, and in this fateful hour each unleashed his peerless secret arts. Tuoba Xingge, Lord of the True God Palace, drew upon the profound skills of the True Secret Manual, while Long Zhentian, Divine Lord of the Nine Heavens Palace, wielded the might of the Nine Heavens Scripture. Indeed, Long had stolen Tuoba's secret tome, all in preparation for this duel—knowing his foe, so as to never be defeated.
They were both supreme masters of the age, their martial attainment unfathomable, their strength equal in measure. Each possessed a rare and unparalleled manual of peerless martial arts. In the Jianghu, two sayings had long circulated, testifying to their unrivaled standing:
"The Lord of the True God Palace, wisdom reaching the heavens; the True Secret Manual, its divine skills profound." — thus did the world acclaim Tuoba Xingge, gifted beyond compare, versed in myriad arts, his manual filled with unfathomable mysteries that made heroes tremble.
"The Divine Lord of Nine Heavens, his spirit swallows mountains and rivers; the Nine Heavens Scripture, mysteries reaching the skies." — thus was Long Zhentian praised, his force vast as oceans, his mastery of the Nine Heavens Scripture soaring beyond mortal grasp, like a dragon above the clouds surveying all below.
These two phrases had long been repeated throughout the Jianghu, securing for them unassailable renown.
By now they had traded over two hundred moves. Their qi clashed, palm winds howled, every strike a summit of martial mastery. Tuoba suddenly sank his stance, both palms thrusting out with three killing moves in succession—"Shifting Clouds and Treacherous Waves," "Scattered Stars, Driving Rain," "Waters Flow Jade-Green." Palm force rolled forth like tidal waves, shaking heaven and earth as it crashed toward Long Zhentian.
Long's eyes narrowed; he pivoted, arms crossing as his sleeves lashed out. At once he countered with three supreme arts—"Beyond the Ninth Heaven," "Sparse Stars, Deep Moon," "Slanting Moon Hung in the Sky." Layers of inner strength wove together, forming a defense that repelled Tuoba's raging tide. Yet Tuoba's eyes flashed. He slid a foot, body gliding like drifting clouds, his palms shifting in an instant. Suddenly he unleashed "Turning Back Mountains, Overturning Seas", a strike crashing down like collapsing peaks, like a tsunami from the sky!
Long felt danger pressing upon him. He wrenched his body back, retreating light as a phantom. Qi surged as he transformed palm to claw—"Eagle's Talon for the Kill" tore through the air, shrieking like a raptor's dive. Three talon shadows raked forth like lightning. Tuoba was caught off guard—rip! His left sleeve was shredded, his robe fluttering in the gale.
"That Eagle Claw is formidable indeed!" Tuoba growled, though in his gaze burned the fire of battle.
Seizing the moment, Long soared upward, talons flying in relentless assault. Tuoba yielded step by step, slipping away, yet those claws were venomous—swift, ruthless, every strike aimed at his vitals! Tuoba's eyes hardened. With a cold shout—"Then taste my claws in return!"—he spun, unleashing "Tempest and Driving Rain." Palm winds howled, claw shadows roared like storm rain, sweeping back at Long Zhentian!
The thousands of martial folk watching held their breath, eyes locked upon this clash of titans. Their figures flickered like lightning, attacks seamless, defenses flawless, transformations dazzling as shifting clouds. Suddenly both broke apart, leaping back through the air. When they landed, faint white smoke coiled from the crowns of their heads—the surest sign of inner strength driven to its utmost limit.
Then, with a sky-shaking roar, Tuoba surged forward, palms raining down like storm and thunder. It was one of the deadliest techniques of the True Secret Manual—"Flying Flowers Like Snow." Countless palm shadows fluttered forth like drifting petals, sealing all of Long's avenues of escape.
Long dared not delay. With a long cry he met the storm, his palms roaring like rolling thunder. "Thunder Splits the Mountain" burst forth—force fierce as lightning, crashing headlong into Tuoba's blossoms of death. The clash sent shockwaves in all directions, dust and rubble whirling for dozens of feet. The crowd gasped aloud, shaken by the depth of their power.
In a flash, Tuoba sank his stance, spun, and thrust forth "Distant Memories," a move soft as flowing river, yet sharp with hidden peril. Long's face changed—he knew this as one of Tuoba's killing strikes. Without a flicker of expression, he shifted into "Turning Peaks and Winding Paths." His steps twisted strangely, his shoulders dropped, his palms surged like breaking waves.
The two men fought as if life itself hung in each blow. Tuoba pressed close, his palms surging with focused inner strength. With a sharp cry he struck—"Sending You a Thousand Li." Fierce yet supple, his palms surged like raging seas, aimed at Long's chest.
Long's eyes gleamed. "At last—you've given me the opening I sought!" He saw Tuoba's arm thrust out, exposing himself. At once he unleashed his supreme technique—"Mad Clouds Soaring to the Sky." His palms circled, qi rushing like a storm, before blasting forth in a domineering strike that brooked no defense.
But Tuoba's reflexes were lightning. He withdrew in an instant, body rolling like drifting clouds, sidestepping death itself. And in that flashing moment, he countered—"Ten Thousand Streams Returning to the Sea."
Boom! The earth-shaking impact shook the palace grounds. Qi roared, palm winds churned, and Long Zhentian's chest was struck full force. His blood surged, and with a cry he spat a mouthful of crimson!
The watching warriors cried out in unison:"It is done!""The outcome is decided!"
This battle of the century had raged for a full hour—from early morning to mid-forenoon. Fists clashed, qi surged, the arena rocked, stones shattered, dust flew. It seemed the world itself had narrowed to this duel.
At last, Tuoba leapt to strike, his palms thundering down, gathering the might of heaven and earth into a single blow aimed at Long's chest. Long had just begun to muster his strength to block—when suddenly, two figures dropped from the air. Bang! Bang! Twin shocks resounded as they intercepted the strike. The force scattered outward. The two were revealed as the Left and Right Envoys of Heaven and Earth—Li Han and Ling Yun—who had thrown themselves in at the final instant to save their master.
Tuoba's foot paused; his gaze darkened. With a cold laugh he sneered:"Long Zhentian—your tongue is hard, but your fate spares you yet. Had you died beneath my palms, you'd have none but yourself to blame. Still, to have such steadfast men willing to take my strike on your behalf—this, at least, commands respect."
At that moment, the Chief Judge Cui Fujun soared into the arena, his stance upright as a mountain, voice ringing:"The duel is decided! I declare—this contest goes to Lord Tuoba Xingge of the True God Palace!"
The hall fell silent. Then murmurs swelled, the crowd abuzz. Faces were lit with awe, with doubt, with admiration and unease. And just then—a tumult of hurried footsteps echoed in from beyond the gates…