In the afternoon, beneath Lotus Peak, a slant of sunlight poured down as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. It was the hour when the setting sun cast its glow, and under the dusk-tinged sky, beauty always reigned. Far off at the edge of heaven, clouds tinted with rosy hues adorned the firmament. Where Lotus Peak had earlier stood without a wisp of cloud, it now welcomed clusters of drifting clouds, as though one were standing amid layered seas of cloud. Floating vapors moved unhurriedly, gazing in silence upon the ceaseless coming and going of all living beings.
To return to the matter at hand: although the Whirlwind Sixteen Palms was formidable, Huangfu Song's White Lotus Sect's guardian divine art—the Lotus Art—was by no means inferior. Each man exerted the full measure of his lifelong cultivation; their techniques were not only exquisite and ingenious, but also swift beyond compare. At this moment, Sima Lun's twin palms alternately cleaved and chopped, while Huangfu Song met each move head-on, countering strike for strike. Sima Lun's body whirled and shifted, now suddenly in front, now abruptly behind, his footwork profound and elusive. All at once, a palm struck with savage force, accompanied by a shrill whistling sound, sweeping up sand and gravel from the ground as it shot toward Huangfu Song's flank.
Huangfu Song thought to himself: Sima Lun's techniques are subtle and mysterious—why must I insist on meeting him head-on and squander my own true qi? Before his thoughts had fully settled, the palm wind was already upon him. He had no choice but to twist his body sharply and extend a counterpalm. Yet he deliberately held back, greatly reducing the force of his strike. Seeing Huangfu Song's palm strength weaken, Sima Lun assumed that his opponent's internal energy was exhausted and could not help but rejoice. With a flash of inspiration, he abruptly unleashed the move "Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain."
In an instant, shrill palm winds howled as sand and dust were flung in all directions. The attack surged like thunder and lightning, dozens of palms striking in rapid succession through the air. Though Huangfu Song intended to conserve his inner power, he could not help but be startled. If he failed to evade, how could he withstand such superior force? Naturally, he retreated step by step, his body driven back without pause.
Gaining the upper hand, Sima Lun believed victory assured. His left hand jabbed toward vital points while his right palm struck with added force, like a descending god, swift and ferocious. In the blink of an eye, a palm attacked from the side, forcing Huangfu Song into a tumbling dodge. At this perilous, split-second juncture, Huangfu Song suddenly spun around and let out a thunderous shout. Like a flash of lightning, his fingers darted forth, striking Sima Lun's vital acupoints—Huagai, Juque, and the lower abdominal Guanyuan.
Caught by this sudden counterattack, Sima Lun sensed danger at once. Thinking quickly, he drew in his abdomen and executed the move "Autumn Leaves in Flight," his body floating away to disperse the force. The moment his feet touched the ground, he unleashed "Heaven and Earth Reversed," striking out with a palm. With a sharp crack, the two palms collided, and both men were jolted backward several steps.
Huangfu Song said coldly, "Accept your fate."
His words were forceful, yet he dared not lower his guard in the slightest. Immediately, he drove the Lotus Art to its fullest, launching a fierce counteroffensive. Every movement on the field now gripped the hearts of the hundreds of martial artists watching, the tension thick and suffocating. Sima Lun, arrogant and contemptuous of all others, was ignited into towering rage by the words "Accept your fate!" He snarled, "Enough nonsense!"
He stamped the ground and vaulted into the air, both palms thrusting forward—swift as lightning, sharp as blades. Both men now fought with full force, palm shadows filling the sky. Palms and fingers clashed, impacts rang without cease, figures darted and intertwined, parting and rejoining—dragons and tigers locked in battle, hares leaping and falcons diving.
Huangfu Song had been building his momentum for a long while; now the moment had arrived. He gathered every ounce of his power, striking with speed to the very edge of perception. Sima Lun's strength had waned slightly, his movements slowed, and before he could fully parry—bang!—a palm struck his abdomen, forcing him to stagger back. In that critical instant, Huangfu Song seized the opening and swiftly struck Sima Lun's chest acupoints. With another heavy thud, Sima Lun collapsed onto the ground.
Huangfu Song clasped his hands and said, "Sima Lun, this point-sealing technique can only be undone by me, or it will release itself after two hours. To avoid complications in our contest for the White Lotus Flower, you should rest for now."
Sima Lun sat frozen, unable to move. Thoughts surged within him, emotions tangled and overwhelming. Seeing this, the Black Wind Three Fiends hurried over and carried the Black-Eater King away.
Before long, Cui Fujun's voice rang out: "Zhu Feng, Sect Master of Mount Hua, versus the Western Sacred Matron, Chen Jinfeng!"
The Life-and-Death Judge's Brush, Li Yan, stepped into the arena and announced, "We invite Sect Master Zhu Feng of Mount Hua!" Immediately after, Judge's Blade Sun Tian also entered and proclaimed, "We invite the Western Sacred Matron, Chen Jinfeng!"
Zhu Feng, Sect Master of Mount Hua, emerged slowly amid the escort of his disciples. At the same time, Chen Jinfeng strode forth boldly, surrounded by followers of the Western Sacred Sect. As a self-proclaimed pillar of orthodox righteousness, Zhu Feng naturally held Chen Jinfeng in disdain. With cold arrogance, he declared, "You evil and heretical lot—how dare you seek the White Lotus Flower? The White Lotus Flower is a sacred treasure of Mount Hua. How could it ever fall into the hands of your depraved sect?"
Though a woman, Chen Jinfeng was no ordinary opponent. She knew well that dealing with such people required cunning. With a cold laugh, she replied, "Sect Master Zhu, do not cloak yourself in the banner of righteousness. I hear you have quite a few romantic debts outside—shall I recount them for all to hear?"
The air seemed to congeal, an eerie tension instantly spreading. Zhu Feng glared at Chen Jinfeng with a terrifying stare, his face darkening as he stepped forward. How could he allow her to expose his scandals? Hastily, he shouted, "Evil heretics deserve death wherever they are found! Do not spout nonsense—take this!"
Ignoring all decorum, Zhu Feng lunged forward like a wolf or tiger, fists and palms flying. Chen Jinfeng neither retreated nor yielded; already prepared, she subtly withdrew her body. After several sharp palm exchanges, she countered with her left palm. Within just three moves, two immense forces collided head-on. In a thunderous boom, the clash of internal energies sent both fighters flying backward, skidding several steps upon landing. The arena erupted into commotion, cheers echoing endlessly. Zhu Feng, only in his early thirties and with comparatively shallow cultivation, was forced to retreat several steps more.
Chen Jinfeng then gathered her qi into her dantian, power surging through both legs. She shot diagonally forward three zhang toward Zhu Feng, arms snapping outward as she unleashed "Fierce Tiger Leaving the Mountain." Punch followed punch, palm after palm, swift and relentless. Zhu Feng raised his palms to block and counter. Chen Jinfeng's internal strength was deep and formidable, while Zhu Feng, arrogant in his claim of orthodoxy, had underestimated her. Her assault now carried crushing palm force; after only a few exchanges, Zhu Feng felt his hands go numb. Alarm flashed through his heart as he realized her palm power was overwhelming. This relentless flurry, coupled with her ruthless techniques, left him flustered and disgraced beyond measure.