Senior Gu sneered at his words.
"If I wasn't speaking to you, was I talking to a ghost?
"Whose junior are you? What sect, and who is your master?
"This old man would like to know who taught such a mannerless disciple.
"If he can't teach you properly, I wouldn't mind teaching you a lesson on respecting your elders!"
At these words, Fang Wen's expression darkened at once.
Mo Beidou's face turned livid as well.
Not only did the old man put on airs of seniority, but he had also insulted their master.
In the past, Mo Beidou could only have swallowed his anger in such a situation.
Yet today, Fang Wen had no intention of enduring it. He merely offered a faint smile, stepped forward abruptly, and unleashed Vajra Throws the Pagoda in a sudden strike.
Senior Gu froze, never expecting the lad to strike without a single word of warning.
He sneered instantly, "Courting death!"
He was just about to raise his palm to meet the blow, but little did he imagine that under the combined force of Fang Wen's tripled Comprehension and Aptitude, the Mahakala Palm had already approached the Great Perfection realm.
Now, his every gesture carried immense power.
So formidable was this strike of Vajra Throws the Pagoda that before the palm force even landed, the pressure around Senior Gu turned the air into thick mire.
His internal skill was fairly profound, yet at this moment, he could barely lift his arm.
Overcome with horror, he strained with all his might and only barely managed to raise a hand. Yet he could form no effective counterattack; instead, he looked like an ordinary person instinctively shielding his face against a crushing blow.
It was utter humiliation.
All in all, had Senior Gu maintained some caution when facing Fang Wen and not acted so contemptuously from the start, he would not have ended up in such a wretched state.
Even if he could not win, he would not have disgraced himself so thoroughly.
Yet he had provoked him first and looked down on Fang Wen.
Never had he imagined that Fang Wen would strike without hesitation.
Lagging one step behind led to falling behind at every turn, which brought him to this plight.
Watching the palm descend, he could do nothing but close his eyes and await death, filled with endless regret.
Yet just as Fang Wen's palm was about to strike the old man's crown, Fang Wen abruptly shifted his technique, swinging a wide, resounding slap across the old man's face.
A crisp smack rang out.
Senior Gu was launched into the air by the slap, spinning several times midair.
Only then did he crash into a chair and tumble to the floor.
The blow left him completely dazed. He raised his head in confusion, hardly knowing what year it was.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before words could emerge, he spat out several molars.
Looking up again, he saw that after delivering the slap, Fang Wen had already returned to his chair and picked up his teacup.
Gently nudging the tea leaves with the lid, Fang Wen took a sip before casting a cool glance at Senior Gu, his tone turning faintly cold:
"A creature like you thinks he's worthy to discipline me in my master's place?"
Senior Gu's face flushed crimson, while the burning handprint on his cheek showed a ghastly pale hue that would likely take a moment to swell up.
At this moment, against his flushed complexion, it stood out all the more starkly.
Neither the burly monk nor the scholar spared him a glance, however; both were looking at Fang Wen.
The burly monk praised, "Splendid palm technique, splendid martial arts! Young almsgiver handles the heavy with ease and exerts control at will. Every movement is a masterful strike—this monk is truly impressed!"
Fang Wen smiled. "The venerable monk flatters me. A trifling parlor trick, hardly worth mentioning."
The burly monk shook his head and said no more.
Murong Qingchen was lost in thought. Suddenly, he shifted his palm stance slightly, raising and pressing it down—striking with the exact movement of Fang Wen's Vajra Throws the Pagoda, though possessing only the form without the spirit.
After a moment's contemplation, he said, "This palm strike appears simple, yet it holds countless variations. Even among the myriad divine techniques of the Buddhist path, it is far from ordinary. I wonder, what is the name of this move?"
Fang Wen was taken aback. He had not expected Murong Qingchen to pick up the technique after seeing it just once.
This pedantic scholar is no decent fellow!
Just as he was about to speak, the bray of a donkey came from outside the door, followed by a voice:
"This is the first stance of the Tantric divine technique, the Mahakala Palm, named Vajra Throws the Pagoda.
"This martial art comprises eight moves in total—a demon-subduing divine technique that simplifies complexity, hides great skill behind clumsy simplicity, and overcomes a dozen moves with pure force."
Everyone turned toward the sound and saw that gloomy young man—the one who looked displeased with everything as though the whole world owed him money—arriving at the entrance of the main hall alongside a charming, smiling young woman.
A sullen glint showed in the youth's eyes as he spoke listlessly:
"Roughly two hundred years ago, a great fire in the Tantric Sect destroyed numerous manuals of divine arts, among which was this Mahakala Palm.
"The last grand lama to master it disappeared without a trace while pursuing a traitor.
"As a result, this martial art has been lost to the Tantric Sect for two centuries... Who would have thought it could be seen here today?
"If you encounter people from the Tantric Sect in the future, they might well ask you for this art.
"You can take the opportunity to demand some benefits from them; I doubt they would refuse.
"Don't be shy about it. After all, without you, they would never recover this divine technique in their lifetimes, so offering some compensation is only right."
Fang Wen glanced at the young man with some surprise.
Who would have thought this bitter, aggrieved-looking youth was so knowledgeable?
Murong Qingchen looked up at him thoughtfully, squinting for a while before asking, "Your surname is Chen?"
The youth nodded. "This junior is Chen Yan. My father is Chen Xuanji."
"As expected, the scion of an old acquaintance. You look quite like your father."
Murong Qingchen smiled. "Though your father's donkey was considerably more obedient than yours."
"..."
Chen Yan gritted his teeth for a long moment before letting out a scoff. "Sooner or later, I'll slaughter the beast and turn it into donkey burgers!"
The charming, smiling young woman beside him looked at Senior Gu, who still had not gotten up from the floor, her face full of astonishment.
"Oh my, elderly sir, why are you sitting on the floor? The ground is so cold! You really should get up quickly. After all, these old bones of yours... Ah, no, after all, you're getting up in years. If the cold seeps into your bones, it will be hard to bear."
Senior Gu had initially felt slightly better upon hearing her words—look, see how a proper junior speaks? This is what a junior should be!
Yet the girl seemed to have let a slip of the tongue out at the end... For a moment, he wondered if his ears had deceived him.
No matter how he pondered it, her words felt odd...
Just as he was about to ask what her background was, the stinging handprint on his face flared with intense pain. He gritted his teeth and swallowed his question.
Just then, Murong Qingchen abruptly stood up. Fang Wen asked casually, "Where is Senior heading?"
"To see Wu Lingxiao."
With that, he walked straight toward the inner hall.
Fang Wen raised his eyebrows slightly and shot a glance at Lu Guiyan.
"Come on, let's go too."
Chapter 83