Inside the Four Seas Martial Arts Hall.
Cheng Kuiqiang scratched his head as he stepped down from the stage, offering Li Xiuwen a wry smile. "Ah Wen, I'm sorry. All the pressure is on you now."
"You were too hasty," Li Xiuwen sighed. "If you'd held your ground for a few more moves, you would have won."
"My comprehension is poor. My fighting techniques have been stuck right at the threshold of minor success for half a month now—I just can't break through," Cheng Kuiqiang replied helplessly.
Li Xiuwen possessed the incense burner and never encountered cultivation bottlenecks, so he could hardly relate to Cheng Kuiqiang's plight.
"Ah Wen, it's all up to you," Ah Zhen said, clutching Li Xiuwen's arm.
Even Cheng Kuiqiang had lost; she could not imagine how Ah Wen could win without a miracle.
Tian Er was even stronger than Wen Wu, second only to Gaojiao Qi.
Liu Chun wore a conflicted expression. He disliked Li Xiuwen, who was after all his rival, yet at this moment, he too wanted Li Xiuwen to win and preserve some dignity for their style.
Li Xiuwen climbed onto the stage.
The tall, burly Tian Er leaped up as well, grinning smugly. The night heron stitched onto his training uniform spread its wings as if ready for flight, exuding reckless swagger.
"We came all this way full of joy for a challenge visit, only to leave disappointed... You lot are just too weak!" Giving Li Xiuwen the middle finger, he made no effort to hide his mocking contempt.
Martial lineages constantly vied for fame and profit.
On the fighting stage, pre-match trash talk was standard practice.
Li Xiuwen still cupped his fists politely and smiled. "Li Xiuwen, Sea Sand style. Please instruct me!"
Below the stage, the cross-eyed Wen Wu stared at Li Xiuwen, feeling as though he had seen him somewhere before. "Eldest Senior Brother, isn't that guy the one who came to our hall wanting to take a master?"
Gaojiao Qi's brows furrowed deeply as he muttered, "It is him... That old sprout has only been learning for less than two months. How does he even qualify to take the stage?"
"Strange. Could his innate physique have the makings of a superior as well?" Wen Wu wondered.
"He's probably just there to make up the numbers," Hei Gou said. "Or maybe Master Huang force-fed him fish balls just to stuff him into the Purple Membrane stage for this meet?"
"Even if he had the makings of a superior, he started far too late. It would be nearly impossible for him to lock in the peak before his blood-and-breath energy declines," Gaojiao Qi said, shaking his head.
With his status and standing, he did not care in the slightest about having rejected Li Xiuwen back then; after all, that had been their master's decision. Even if Li Xiuwen had a trick or two up his sleeve, it was beneath notice.
Resting in his armchair, Huang Sihai let his eyelids droop, no longer paying attention to the matches between the first-floor disciples. He could only wait for the second-floor bouts to pull back a few victories.
Master Ye chuckled. "Old Huang, that's not very fair of you. Taking in someone of that age—could it be that his innate physique is remarkable?"
Hearing this, Huang Sihai replied calmly, "What does his age matter? He has practiced martial arts for barely over a month and already reached the Purple Membrane stage. Is he any worse than those youngsters of yours?"
Master Ye's curiosity was piqued. He peered closely at Li Xiuwen and asked, "He wasn't forcibly stuffed to that level with fish balls, was he? There's really no need for that."
Old Huang remained silent, which told Master Ye that was almost certainly the case.
Unless someone possessed extraordinary talent, how could they possibly achieve a Purple Membrane in just over a month?
***
"Ten moves. If you can still stand on this stage after that, you'll have earned the right to be proud."
Tian Er moved, swift as lightning. His arms spread wide like a waterfowl skimming across the lake's surface, radiating overbearing momentum.
Memories of the dozen-plus battles he had fought against Tian Er the previous night flashed through Li Xiuwen's mind. The offensive and defensive applications of this fist technique were already engraved into his heart.
*This move is meant to distract my vision. I just need to master motion with stillness.*
Li Xiuwen planted his feet in the center, immovable as a mountain, waiting for Tian Er to close the distance.
In a flash, his palm struck out—Great Waves Washing the Sand! A fierce, rigid force unleashed in an instant.
Tian Er dodged aside, slipping past the blow.
With his palm strike hitting empty air, Li Xiuwen appeared to lose his balance slightly, carried forward two paces by his own momentum.
"Can't even hold yourself steady right out of the gate?"
Tian Er closed in over three swift strides. Emitting a shrill screech, his Water Bird Fist struck straight toward Li Xiuwen's back.
Yet, as if Li Xiuwen had anticipated the move all along, he bent backward at the waist, effortlessly dodging the punch.
At the same time, his right leg swept like a gale scattering fallen leaves. The air cracked with a crisp pop, kicking up a whirl of dust across the stage.
In that split second, Tian Er—who had tried to exploit Li Xiuwen's opening—was the one caught off guard. Tripped up by the sweeping leg, his footwork instantly dissolved into chaos.
Seizing that tiny opening, Li Xiuwen unleashed a soft palm, pouring wave after wave of force into Tian Er's back.
Flipping Sand Palm, second layer: Surging Undercurrents!
The thick muscle along Tian Er's back rippled in waves, his bones vibrating as his face turned pale with shock.
His feet scrambled furiously as he staggered to the very edge of the stage. Just as it looked like he would tumble off, his muscles locked taut.
Shifting his footwork with nimble precision, he used the bare sliver of remaining space to twist himself back onto the platform.
"A movement technique?" Huang Sihai, having just caught a glimmer of hope, immediately grew grim. "Master Ye, you're certainly generous, teaching movement techniques even to disciples of Pine Hall."
"Did this disciple of yours study at my Night Heron Martial Arts Hall before?" Master Ye asked, equally surprised.
For some reason, he felt that Li Xiuwen understood the patterns of the Water Bird Fist intimately, as if he had sparred against his disciple countless times in person.
The lad could see right through Tian Er's intent with every move, even feigning flaws to bait him in before executing a deadly counter.
Had Master Ye not specifically taught Tian Er that movement technique, the boy might genuinely have capsized in this shallow brook.
Huang Sihai sneered. "What's so difficult about that damned Water Bird Fist of yours? It's nothing more than an offshoot of the White Crane style. I've taken him to watch it countless times in the great ring."
Deep down, Old Huang was delighted. Li Xiuwen's comprehension of fighting techniques and actual combat was truly impressive.
Tian Er's expression grew serious. "I was careless. Li Xiuwen, was it? I'll remember that name."
"You talk too much," Li Xiuwen muttered, finding it a bit troublesome.
When he had fought Tian Er the previous night, the fellow had not used a single movement technique.
That meant Tian Er hadn't known any movement techniques over a month ago—he must have learned this recently.
The two clashed again, locked in combat. With the advantage in movement speed, Tian Er made Li Xiuwen's palm strikes miss time and again.
Yet Li Xiuwen accurately read every attack Tian Er threw, dismantling them one by one.
Tian Er felt an absurd sensation, as if he were fighting completely naked. *Why does he understand my Water Bird Fist so well?*
Baffled, Tian Er maneuvered continuously, searching for a way to break through.
After a grueling exchange of over a hundred moves, Tian Er was gasping for breath. Li Xiuwen, on the other hand, was only breathing slightly harder.
The endurance of the Sea Sand style was inherently superior to that of the Night Heron style.
If the fight dragged on, Li Xiuwen was confident he could win even against Tian Er's movement technique, so he remained in no rush.
Tian Er, however, was growing frantic.
His three fellow disciples had all won their bouts cleanly and decisively.
Yet here he was, bogged down in an ugly, grinding slog, looking utterly disheveled.
Even if he won now, it would bring no glory; it would only make him look like the weakest of the four.
"This punch will finish you!"
Tian Er roared. Skimming low across the floor, he glided forward over ten feet. His arms fluttered into a blur of afterimages, resembling a flock of birds blotting out the sky and sun, leaving nowhere to hide.
This was an advanced routine that could only be executed once one's Water Bird Fist reached a deep level of minor success: "Thousand Herons."
His Water Bird Fist was already nearing major success, far surpassing the strength of Hei Gou and Wen Wu.
Below the stage, Liu Chun and the others felt their hearts leap into their throats.
Like walking through a forest without touching a leaf, Li Xiuwen wove past the afterimages and unerringly caught the true strike.
His coarse, calloused hands seized Tian Er's arms. Leaning his entire body into a charge like a falling mountain, he broke Tian Er's balance, sending him stumbling backward.
Seizing the opening, Li Xiuwen pressed forward, driving a seemingly soft, powerless palm straight into his opponent.
Tian Er intended to trade injury for injury and deliver a decisive blow, choosing to brace his chest against the strike.
Layer upon layer of hidden force erupted in an instant.
That frail-looking palm carried the crushing weight of a thousand jin!
Tian Er's face warped in horror, flushing crimson from the suffocating impact. "Your Flipping Sand Palm... has reached minor success?!"
Chapter 37