The moment these words were spoken, a wave of panic rippled through the ranks—faces blanched, courage faltered. Just moments earlier, Wu Tong's two palms had displayed an overwhelming, iron-forged force; the Horse Immortal and the Goat Immortal of the Five Immortals had already tested the depth of his power and been shaken to the core. They had been utterly seized by Wu Tong's unflappable bearing under pressure and his peerless inner strength.
The Five Immortals—Dragon, Tiger, Ox, Horse, and Goat—each knew the score. Wu Tong's inner power was extraordinary; in single combat they would be no match for him. If blades were drawn, the outcome would be death or grievous injury. The Tiger Immortal spoke up in a ringing voice, "Since Hall Master Wu's Crouching Dragon Blade is unparalleled, how would we dare to ask for a contest of blades? Why not fight bare-handed, so that true heroism may be shown!"
Sent on orders to intercept their foes, the Five Immortals now found themselves in an awkward position. With little choice, they spoke words for appearances' sake to conceal their own misgivings. Ling Xian'er said coolly, "The Five Immortals speak prettily—aren't you simply hoping to win by numbers?"
The Ox Immortal retorted, "Hall Master Wu is the head of the Loyalty Hall, renowned throughout the martial world. Are you saying he fears the Five Immortals joining hands?"
Ling Xian'er's eyes flicked about; an idea formed. "You rabble—names loud, hearts hollow—parading as 'Immortals' with borrowed virtue. Let me test your so-called attainments. Why use an ox-cleaver to kill a chicken? If it's a fight you want, I, Ling Xian'er, will oblige!" With that she floated down from her horse.
The Five Immortals, seeing her approach, felt as though they had been insulted. Though they did not doubt that Wu Tong stood among the very pinnacle of the age, and though fear gnawed at them, the sight of a mere young woman speaking so insolently roused their pride. The Goat Immortal barked, "Do not underestimate the Five Immortals! The Goat Immortal and the Horse Immortal will test you first!" With a shout, the Goat Immortal chopped out with a palm.
Ling Xian'er leapt back, unleashing the Seven-Severing Palms. Her move, "Advance as if to Meet, Withdraw to Repel," flashed forth at once. At their first exchange there came a dull grunt—pa!—and the Goat Immortal was flung straight out, landing more than six paces away. The Horse Immortal roared in fury and shot forward like an arrow. He was fast—but Ling Xian'er's Seven-Severing Palms were faster. Another pa! and he too was hurled away, sprawling beyond six paces.
Those two strikes of the Seven-Severing Palms were lightning-quick—countering on sight and turning defense into attack—truly the work of a master. The remaining three Immortals were stunned. Never had they expected this. The young woman's power and footwork were anything but ordinary; she was clearly a first-rate expert of the jianghu, though her inner reserves were a shade less deep. For the moment, the three dared not rush in. Ling Xian'er said lightly, "A trifling display."
The Goat and Horse Immortals scrambled up in disarray. The Dragon Immortal, seasoned and shrewd, spoke gravely, "It seems we have no choice today but to join all five forces and let the young lady behold our skills."
The Five Immortals of the White Lotus Sect roamed the martial world relying on their combined formation; taken singly, none could claim exceptional attainment. Ling Xian'er mocked, "So only by striking together can the Five Immortals show their 'heroism'?" She laughed gaily. "Isn't this laughable?"
The Tiger Immortal snarled, "Enough talk—attack!" Before the words had fallen, several figures flashed in, their movements swift as swimming dragons, fast as lightning—leaping, slicing through the air. Ling Xian'er was magnificent: steps flying, a sharp cry, she raised her fists to meet them. Palms and fists collided. The Ox and Tiger Immortals attacked from front and rear, but Ling Xian'er advanced to retreat, feinted east to strike west. She stepped in, darted her right hand; the Ox Immortal raised a palm to block. Ling Xian'er's arm shuddered; her palm shot out, power bursting forth—bang!—striking the Ox Immortal squarely between the shoulders. With a muffled groan he flipped backward and crashed onto his back.
The Tiger Immortal struck toward Ling Xian'er's back. She seemed to have eyes behind her head—spinning, she countered with two whistling palms. Startled, the Tiger Immortal retreated at once. Seeing this, the Dragon Immortal surged in, his palms heavy with force. Ling Xian'er did not dare take them lightly and met them head-on. The Tiger Immortal wheeled back to attack again, drawing a breath, left palm striking, right palm following—two blows crashing like an avalanche.
At that instant, Ling Xian'er sprang straight up from the flat ground, neatly evading the frontal assault. Seeing this, the Goat and Horse Immortals—who had been waiting for an opening—were overjoyed. They leapt up together to avenge their earlier humiliation, shouting, "Don't run!" "Take my palm!" In midair Ling Xian'er cried, "Such gall!" The three met aloft. The Goat and Horse Immortals struck simultaneously; Ling Xian'er spun like a gale, her fierce palms snapping out—pa!—the Goat Immortal fell from the air. She followed with a right-foot kick, astonishingly fast; the Horse Immortal screamed and was sent flying down as well.
As Ling Xian'er landed, the Dragon and Tiger Immortals, faces iron-blue with rage, mustered their full inner strength. Their palms bore terrifying force as they surged forward together. The two excelled in inner power and pressed her hard. A brutal exchange followed—shouts and blows—Dragon and Tiger attacking with ferocity.
Though Ling Xian'er's inner power was inferior to theirs, her lineage and training ran deep. Her palm technique blended hardness with softness, softness within hardness—subtle beyond measure. These exchanges drew loud cheers even from the Western Sacred Sect's followers, and Wu Tong himself could not help but shout his approval. After only seven or eight moves, the outcome was clear.
Ling Xian'er parried with her fists; suddenly her figure blurred—she turned sideways, slipping past the attack. Facing two against one, Dragon and Tiger found themselves defending more than attacking. Their punches were plain and unremarkable, each arriving a fraction too late. As soon as they struck, Ling Xian'er answered—every move a beat later yet arriving first. Her speed and precision were unlike anything they had known; their faces drained to ash.
With a sudden shout, Dragon and Tiger summoned their last reserves and charged like wolves. Six hands clashed in a flurry. Attacking from left and right, they were still a shade slow. Ling Xian'er unleashed "Advance as if to Meet, Withdraw to Repel." The Dragon Immortal chopped out with his right palm—only to have his wrist seized by Ling Xian'er's left. She followed with a pushing palm to his left chest—bang!—a muffled groan, and the Dragon Immortal rolled across the ground.
The Tiger Elder did not stop, hacking in with a palm. His right wrist too was caught; his left tried to break free. Ling Xian'er slipped aside. The Tiger Elder lost his balance and lurched forward; Ling Xian'er struck backhanded to his spine—another muffled groan—and he too tumbled and fell.
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