Among the myriad ancestral arts of the Sun family, there was one martial art that was recorded not in words, but engraved upon stone slabs in the form of illustrations.
Take note: it was composed *entirely* of illustrations, without a single character. In other words, not only did this martial art consist of "techniques without any cultivation method," but it did not even possess a name.
Perhaps for an ordinary person, learning such an art would be relatively difficult. But for Sun Yixie, who was utterly illiterate, this was actually the skill he had mastered fastest of all.
It was also the sole martial art he had fully mastered before leaving Hangzhou, and had therefore never copied onto paper.
Since the martial art itself had no name, Sun Yixie came up with one on his own—Xiequandao.
This name not only took the character *Xie* from his own name, but in Chinese also sounded very close to the style founded by a certain kung fu master from the universe of his previous life.
Although Huang Donglai had roasted him relentlessly upon hearing this name, Sun Yixie himself was still quite pleased with those three characters.
So, just what kind of martial art was this Xiequandao? Readers by now have likely already guessed... It was a form of jujutsu based primarily on joint locks and chokes, supplemented by a modest number of strikes.
Precisely for this reason, this art required no internal cultivation method to channel qi, and recording it in illustrations was far easier to understand than in writing.
At this very moment, Guo Cong's suicidal strategy played right into Sun Yixie's hands. In truth, had Guo Cong kept his distance to fight him, Brother Sun's meager bag of tricks would have exposed his true colors within a few moves. Yet of all things, he had chosen to play the ground game... Then apologies were in order, for the Sun Clan's ultimate arts were truly not something the middling techniques of your Qingyuan Zhongyi Sect could ever compare to.
Up on the challenge arena, Guo Cong assumed a counter-grappling stance, his heart brimming with anticipation that Sun Yixie would rush forward to trade jabs just as he had done against Li Yuan in the previous round.
He had planned it all out: endure a few hits first, and once he got a read on Sun Yixie's striking patterns, seize an opening to trap his joints with grappling holds or simply dislocate his limbs, deciding the match then and there.
Fighting this way would expend little stamina and result in minimal damage. Most importantly, it would avoid revealing too much of his own strength, which would benefit him in subsequent rounds of the tournament.
Guo Cong's plan was truly beautiful.
Reality, however, was that Sun Yixie never assumed any kind of striking stance. Instead, moving like an American football defensive player executing a blitz tackle, he charged straight at Guo Cong's waist and drove forward with explosive force.
Only someone like Guo Cong could have withstood it; anyone else would have been crushed to the ground by such a charge and tackle. But he was different. His horse stance was rock-solid, like an ancient tree entwining its roots; his lower body was steadfast, like a sturdy dike holding back the sea. Even when tackled with all the might of someone of comparable weight like Sun Yixie, he remained unshaken.
Still, it was impossible for Guo Cong to remain entirely unaffected. Even though his stance held, he was pushed back several chi. He had no choice but to pitch his upper body forward to arrest his backward momentum.
At this split second, he never could have imagined that this forward shift in his center of gravity was the beginning of his downfall...
Sun Yixie had originally intended to catch his opponent off guard with the tackle, take him down, and transition straight into a scarf hold. He had not anticipated that Guo Cong's horse stance would be as steady as Mount Tai, impossible to topple by mere tackling. But immediately afterward, through their physical contact, he sensed the shift in his opponent's center of gravity. Thus, adapting on the fly, he turned his "push" into a "pull," seized Guo Cong's right arm, and threw himself backward in the direction of Guo Cong's forward momentum, bringing his entire body weight down on his opponent's arm and dragging him toward the floor.
This caught Guo Cong completely flat-footed. He stumbled and fell forward. Before his knees even hit the ground, Sun Yixie had already swung his legs up, whipping his thighs around Guo Cong's neck in a head-scissor lock while keeping a death grip on his arm.
A breath later, both crashed to the ground, with Guo Cong firmly trapped in Brother Sun's triangle choke.
Some might wonder why this Xiequandao was filled entirely with techniques of modern grappling. In truth, the explanation was simple: one of the martial ancestors of the Sun family had possessed remarkably poor talent in martial arts. No matter how he trained his internal energy, he could never achieve anything noteworthy. Yet for various reasons, he had never pursued scholarly studies either. In the end, he devoted his heart and soul to researching ground techniques that could subdue opponents without requiring internal energy.
Considering that human anatomy had hardly changed over thousands of years, as long as one put their mind to studying this area, the resulting techniques would naturally be largely identical.
Of course, in this martial world full of diverse internal and external styles, the ancestor who created Xiequandao never managed to become a first-rate master. After all, these few tricks could only gain an advantage over second- or third-rate figures; against a first-rate master who could overpower them with pure internal force, they were useless.
Fortunately, the Guo Cong before him was hardly a first-rate master. His "exceptional martial arts" were merely relative among the younger generation. If thrown into the real combat of the jianghu, he would probably be strung up and thrashed by Zhu Xiaowan, that black inn keeper.
Sun Yixie's Xiequandao was just right for dealing with someone of Guo Cong's caliber.
"Mmph—"
Trapped in the triangle choke for less than ten seconds, Guo Cong's face had already flushed purple.
His breathing was restricted, his joint was locked, and despite a chest full of internal qi, he simply could not break the localized hold.
To begin with, someone who had not undergone targeted training had almost no chance of escaping a specialized submission hold. Such techniques had been invented precisely to allow someone at a disadvantage in strength and weight to overcome a stronger foe. Attempting to brute-force one's way out was roughly akin to an adult male trying to win a tug-of-war against a dog using only the strength of his pinky finger—not impossible, but exceptionally difficult.
After a few more seconds, Guo Cong was on the verge of suffocating. In that moment, a thought he had never even entertained struck his mind alongside an indescribable terror: *Could I actually lose to this Sun Yixie?*
That thought sent a shiver through his entire body. Immediately afterward, immense rage and indignity sparked a surge of inexplicable power.
"Ha!" Guo Cong suddenly roared, twisting his body with the last ounce of his strength. At the same time, he deliberately wrenched his own arm, paying the price of a dislocated shoulder to tear himself free from Sun Yixie's hold and roll to the side.
"Trying to run?" What kind of man was Sun Yixie? Before victory was decided, never mind dislocating an arm—even if you gouged out your own eyes, as long as he felt you still posed a threat, he would never let up.
No sooner had Guo Cong rolled away than Sun Yixie followed in that direction with a frog leap. Before Guo Cong could rise, Sun Yixie entangled him once more, using one of his opponent's legs as an axis to clamp him down again.
This time, Brother Sun applied a leg lock. It would not impede Guo Cong's breathing, but it would make him hurt very... very badly.
Yet Guo Cong was a tough bone to crack. As a martial artist, he was long accustomed to sprains and broken bones. On the challenge arena today, if he cried out in pain, how humiliating would that be?
And so, even though Sun Yixie's lock caused excruciating agony, he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. Not only did he not cry out, but he also gathered his internal force and struck out a palm with his remaining, non-dislocated arm...
This was a method of breaking holds that could never happen in the modern combat sports we know, but in a world with internal force, it was entirely normal.
The next instant, Guo Cong's palm landed squarely on the sole of Sun Yixie's foot with a loud smack.
Brother Sun wore the Body-Protecting Armor over his torso, but the soles of his feet were bare. The strike landed directly on Sun Yixie's Yongquan acupoint. Under the surge of internal force, Sun Yixie's left leg went numb from sole to knee. Fortunately, constrained by his posture and pain, Guo Cong had been unable to strike with full force; otherwise, Sun Yixie would likely have limped off the stage.
*Damn it all... this kid is really playing dirty!* Sun Yixie's temper flared instantly. He thought to himself, *I was just locking you up so you'd surrender on your own, and you're out here fighting for your life? You're forcing my hand to choke you out, aren't you?*
With that in mind, he leaned into a transition and simply twisted Guo Cong's knee until it popped.
"Ah!" Guo Cong could no longer bear the agony and let out a sharp cry.
Yet Sun Yixie was not done. Taking advantage of the moment Guo Cong froze from the shock of pain, he scrambled around to the side of his neck and slipped into a rear naked choke from behind.
"Honored judges!" Sun Yixie shouted loudly the moment the choke sank in. "If you don't call a stop to this, my brother Guo here and I might just end up souring our friendly relations!"
What he meant was: *I can win at any moment now. But if I truly finish this, the scene will be rather ugly. Not only would it violate this martial exam's spirit of 'stopping before harm is done and sparring for skill,' but it would also cause severe injury and bad blood. However... this kid surnamed Guo clearly refuses to accept defeat and won't surrender no matter what. In this dilemma, I hope you referees step in to settle the matter.*
The sect leaders and elders seated at the judging panel were all experienced hands in the jianghu. How could they fail to grasp Sun Yixie's intention? Yet there was a delicate protocol regarding who ought to step forward to halt the match...
In any other bout, Shen Youran would undoubtedly be the one to stand up and call a halt. But in matches involving Sun Yixie, it was awkward for him to intervene lightly. After all, rumors of collusion between them had been circulating. If Shen Youran stood up now to declare the match stopped and award the victory to Sun Yixie, it would likely invite criticism.
As for the other sect leaders, they could speak up, but doing so carried a certain risk. If the Qingyuan Zhongyi Sect proved petty and blamed the premature exit of their prized disciple on whichever sect leader halted the bout, forging a grudge between their sects, speaking up would merely draw trouble upon themselves.
Fortunately, among the dignitaries seated along the judging panel, one hailed from the Zhongyi Sect, serving in terms of seniority as Guo Cong's martial uncle. Hearing Sun Yixie's shout, this martial uncle pondered for a moment before rising to his feet and projecting his voice: "Cong'er, do not act out of sheer spite!"
After saying this, he softened his tone slightly and addressed Sun Yixie: "Young Hero Sun, I am Lyu Shiyuan, manager of Qingyuan's Xingyi Sect. In this bout... Guo Cong has indeed lost. I hope Young Hero Sun will show mercy."
Hearing the word "lost," Sun Yixie's heart settled. He knew that with Lyu Shiyuan's statement, nothing Guo Cong did from this point on could alter the outcome.
Thus, as soon as the words fell, Sun Yixie released Guo Cong and rose, stepping back from his opponent.
Guo Cong, meanwhile, lay there motionless, staring blankly at the sky as if trying to process the reality of his defeat.
At this moment, his right shoulder was dislocated, his left knee sprained, and his neck and ribs were bruised... While none of these were incurable injuries, they certainly hurt. Yet compared to his psychological trauma, the physical pain was practically negligible.
This was the first time Guo Cong had ever been defeated by a peer, and thoroughly routed before a crowd by someone he considered far weaker than himself. For an ambitious, high-spirited eighteen-year-old youth, this was undoubtedly a hurdle he would not overcome anytime soon. The fact that he managed not to burst into tears on stage was already commendable.
Seeing Guo Cong lying still, several senior martial brothers watching below the stage hurried up to support him and carried him down. As he left the challenge arena, Guo Cong was in a daze, not uttering a single word. Naturally, he would not say "thank you for the instruction" to Sun Yixie, and Sun Yixie had no need to return the customary "well fought."
To use a modern concept—after this match ended, neither side typed "GG."
Yet when Sun Yixie leaped down from the challenge arena this time, no one thought him underhanded or undeserving of victory anymore, for he had truly won this round on merit.
Using his own strengths to attack the other's weaknesses and overcoming the strong from a position of weakness was genuinely no small feat.
Furthermore, because the combat techniques he had displayed across these two rounds were ones virtually no one had ever witnessed, even after two rounds, the true extent of his martial prowess remained completely unknown to everyone...
Chapter 47