Li Rui, the Dharma King, had a face as fair as polished jade, a high straight nose, thick brows and bright, heroic eyes. Handsome and elegant, he carried himself like a refined scholar. At this moment, his figure flickered, and in an instant he had already entered the arena.
Unexpectedly, "Tyrant of Chu" Wang Chong cast a sidelong glance at him, scanning him from head to toe before speaking coldly:
"The rivers and lakes speak of the Dharma King Li Rui as a master of the Manichaean faith. As the saying goes, hearing is no substitute for seeing, and words are no match for experience. Why don't we test each other today?"
The Manichaean Pure Wind Palm stood on equal footing with the Zoroastrian Flame Palm and the Nestorian Sky-Rending Palm—all renowned palm techniques of the martial world. Wang Chong, famed for his arrogance, spoke with undisguised disrespect. Li Rui heard every word clearly, yet sensed no praise of his faith's martial arts.
Naturally humble by temperament, Li Rui suppressed his irritation. He understood that only victory could bring honor to his sect. Verbal sparring served no purpose, so he said calmly:
"These crude skills of mine are hardly worth mention. I only ask that you offer your guidance."
He spoke as though belittling himself, raising another's stature while lowering his own.
Wang Chong took this as fear born of his fearsome reputation and laughed loudly.
"Then make your move!"
Li Rui's eyes flashed like lightning. Drawing true qi from his dantian, he sprang into the air and suddenly lashed out with a flying kick. One kick followed another—left leg, then right—executed in a seamless chain of consecutive strikes.
Though arrogant, Wang Chong truly possessed formidable skill; otherwise, how could he have been employed by the Yan court? Seeing the incoming kicks, he inhaled sharply, raised his arms, and met them head-on. Pa! Pa! Two palms struck out, dispersing the force of the kicks.
Li Rui immediately followed with two roaring palm strikes. Their weight was immense. Wang Chong dared not be careless. He shifted sideways, raised his arms to deflect, avoided one strike, then instantly countered with a thunderous palm of his own.
Wang Chong's nickname, "Tyrant of Chu," came from his mastery of Iron Sand Palms, with which he had dominated the lands south of the Yangtze. His techniques appeared plain, but their power lay in overwhelming, brute force.
Li Rui spun away just as Wang Chong's palm chopped toward the back of his head. With agile footwork, Li Rui prioritized evasion, deflecting and dissolving the force rather than meeting it head-on.
The battle grew increasingly intense. Each man calculated silently. Li Rui did not rush to finish the fight—Wang Chong's palms were powerful and swift, but they consumed tremendous inner energy. Li Rui responded with slowness to counter speed, using steadiness to overcome ferocity, waiting patiently for flaws.
This was the essence of avoiding substance and striking emptiness: non-critical attacks were gently led aside, while genuine openings were seized with precise blows.
Suddenly, Wang Chong roared, his body launching forward like thunder and lightning. Gathering qi from his dantian, he unleashed a ferocious "Splitting Mount Hua" palm strike. His Iron Sand Palm surged forward like a charging tiger, followed by seven or eight palms aimed at Li Rui's vital points.
The Iron Sand Palm formula rang out with each strike:
"Qi rises from the dantian,Power pours into the palm.Strike solidly before releasing force,Exhale with sound to unleash strength!"
Li Rui answered with "Drifting Traces, Rolling Shadows." No matter how vicious the assault, his right palm flashed out—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!—three palms struck in succession, like thunder and crashing waves.
He shifted left and right, narrowly evading the three blows. His footwork transformed, becoming elusive and flowing, like drifting duckweed upon running water.
Seeing this, Wang Chong changed tactics, turning palms into claws. His fingers shot out in rapid succession—"Golden Dragon Probing Claws"—seven claw strikes in a continuous barrage.
Li Rui's body moved with his hands, swaying like a rudder. Though agile, he was pressed hard and finally stirred to true anger. Both palms shot forth—twelve strikes in an instant—each strange and profound, soft yet forceful.
The battle reached its height: one fighter ferocious and hard, the other blending hardness and softness. Victory remained unclear.
Suddenly, Wang Chong seized Li Rui's right palm. Li Rui flipped his hand, slipped free, and struck instantly with his left palm in a flowing continuation.
Wang Chong roared repeatedly, forcing qi through both palms, expelling breath again and again. Li Rui focused intently, circulating qi from his dantian to both hands—right hand becoming a fist, left a blade; then left a fist, right a blade—changing without pause.
Unable to sustain the prolonged exchange, Wang Chong's constant exertion drained his true qi. His palm power waned visibly.
At close range, the two exchanged three rapid strikes. Both shifted and turned—
Boom!
Wang Chong's right palm slammed out just as Li Rui's left palm landed. The strike appeared slow, yet was incomparably fast—soft yet firm, force hidden within gentleness. It struck later, yet arrived first.
Pa!
Wang Chong staggered backward, blood spraying from his mouth. Li Rui raised both palms overhead, slowly inhaled, withdrew his hands, and clasped his fists respectfully.
"Fists and feet know no mercy. If I have offended, please forgive me."
Wang Chong reeled back and was quickly supported by his companions.
"Ferocious Deity" Yuan Rong and "Ghost-Dread" Wang Yu exchanged glances, faces pale. Even Wang Chong had been defeated—neither dared step forward.
After a moment, Wang Yu sighed deeply.
"I hope Dharma King Zhao will keep his word. A promise must weigh a thousand gold. Let our brothers at least have food to eat."
Dharma King Zhao laughed heartily.
"We agreed on five matches, best of three. Win two, take two chests of treasure. Lose them all, still take one chest. Since Brother Yuan wishes to stop, we honor our agreement."
His tone hardened.
"Bai Bing—have a chest brought out!"
Bai Bing acknowledged. Before long, four Zoroastrian brothers carried a chest of treasure into the arena.
Li Rui stepped forward, concern on his face, and bowed.
"Today's contest was meant as martial exchange. I lost control in my strike and regret it deeply. This humble treasure is but a token of goodwill."
The bandits had come only for the treasure. Though they received but one chest, they were fully satisfied. No lives were lost—only Wang Chong suffered internal injury. It was far from mutual destruction.
Yuan Rong said joyfully:
"The two Dharma Kings possess both great virtue and great skill. I am truly convinced."
At that very moment—
Three figures suddenly swept into the arena like the wind…