Chapter 246

Qing stretched out as if scraping the floor.

Thanks to that, in Wolbong’s view, the new style suddenly seemed to dip below, only to rise abruptly right in front of him.

In response, Wolbong pressed his feet firmly to the ground and tucked his arms in like a solid wall.

And then—

With a soft *pop*, the strike against his arm felt as light as a feather. It clearly wasn’t meant to attack, so Wolbong subtly lowered his arm.

There stood Qing, holding her sword, calmly.

“Master, what’s going on?”

“Just now, weren’t you trying to block that sword strike with your bare arms?”

“That’s right.”

Qing was stumped by such a bold answer.

How could that be sensible? Swinging a sword and saying you’d block it with two arms? Even if it’s a martial arts match, come on.

A dull blade could be swung up but wouldn’t result in a deadly strike. If simply applying a bit of force could create a sharp blade, who wouldn’t carry a sword around?

Walking around with a thin iron bar, perhaps one day in the distant future, they could emit some ultra-hot blade.

Qing turned her gaze to the referee, as if to ask if this even made sense.

The referee also wore a subtle expression.

“Ahem, Wolbong, even if it were a blade surrounded by intent, could you block it bare-handed?”

“I’ve studied the Diamond Indestructible Skill, so I’ve already attained a body that cannot be harmed by sword intent.”

“The Diamond Indestructible Skill!”

“If the master wishes, it’s fine to use a real sword.”

The referee looked at Qing.

“What will you do, Young Lady? If the monk is this confident, will you use a real sword?”

After all, given that they were already at it, Qing heavily furrowed her brows. Bringing out a real sword now felt petty, and even if she used one, how could she attack with confidence? If she got cut, there’d just be blood in the martial arts competition.

Plus, even if she won by fighting barehanded against a real sword, wouldn’t there be gossip later?

Didn’t they say the orthodox martial world was honorable and great, yet here they were acting so shamelessly to their advantage?

As if expecting a clash, the two champions stood awkwardly together chatting, and whispers stirred among the spectators.

Qing shook her head.

“It’s okay. Then, let’s continue.”

Thus, the match resumed.

Qing lightly surrounded her sword intent, wondering if this was really alright, testing the waters. The smoothly extended strike seemed to lack power as she swung it gently.

In response, Wolbong lightly lifted his arm, blocking it in perfect form.

Whack! The shock transmitted to his hand was incredibly solid—it felt like he had just hit a rock.

Qing gradually increased the intensity of her attack.

Wolbong effortlessly continued to block her strikes. It was a skill where he could block even the most careless trajectories with his arms.

As Qing’s sword intent thickened, she finally pulled out a complex series of strikes with a sense of certainty. Hm. Clearly, he could block even a real sword.

But the ambiguity still lingered.

If she slashed at his neck, would it work? What about other vital spots? How about the abdomen? What if she jabbed at the solar plexus? No, what’s going on here?

However, Wolbong seemed to have demonstrated enough defensive skill. He then unleashed the Shaolin Fist technique, charging forward like a heavy beast cloaked in armor.

Fortunately, these were familiar moves.

The extended strike came from the Seven Stars Fist. Twisting her body lightly, his arm circled around, the back of his hand facing Qing’s face.

As Qing leaned back, the fist stopped right before her chin, shaking her composure. A human’s elbow could only twist so much.

Letting a light follow-up slip, it was Qing’s turn again. She high-stepped onto Wolbong’s foot, pushing back with her remaining foot.

What? Why isn’t he moving?

But Wolbong stood firmly on the martial arts stage, his legs unyielding, causing Qing’s balance to waver, leading her to tumble over.

With one arm on the ground, she spun around twice before Wolbong moved like a horse, positioning his fists neatly at his sides.

Front? Back? There was no time to think. Wolbong’s thighs seemed to double in size. *Bang!* Qing stomped the ground and leapt into the air.

Simultaneously, Wolbong’s fists shot out. His body elongated as he thrust forward with both arms. The explosion of power just barely grazed beneath Qing’s soaring feet.

Whack! Qing’s knee landed right on Wolbong’s forehead.

My knee! With the joint cracking, Qing swallowed a scream and, with one arm, pushed against Wolbong’s rough head to perform a handstand.

How solid is he?

Not wanting to just pass by, she hit his bald head with the grip end of her sword and, using the momentum, swiftly landed on the ground.

Wolbong staggered slightly, but that was all.

Qing bit her lip in frustration. She should’ve hit harder.

Worried she might break a monk’s head, she did hold back a bit, resulting in almost no effect.

However, it seemed her ears were a tad red—maybe blood was rushing to her head. Hm. Did that piss him off?

“Match!”

Wolbong charged in again.

Qing took big steps back while unleashing a flurry of strikes. *Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!* Though her retreating blows lacked proper force, her punches and arms rushed forward with wild ferocity, creating quite the cyclone of confusion.

The primary goal of weapons is to make contact with the opponent’s body. A person’s skin cannot withstand a weapon, so whether stabbing or slicing, the moment they touch, a dramatic union occurs.

However, the undefeated monk of Shaolin was thoroughly rejecting this basic principle.

Qing couldn’t help but marvel.

How could monks who didn’t even use weapons be praised as the best warriors? No, blocking blades with your hands?

Hmm. Could the monk also practice Supreme Hand-to-Hand Combat?

It seemed like a reasonable suspicion.

But when it came to durability, the Diamond Indestructible Skill was entirely focused on that aspect, and the Supreme Hand-to-Hand Combat was just an added benefit. No need to even compare which was stronger.

The seventy-two techniques of Shaolin erupted—a cascade of blows from fists, palms, knuckles, and even kicks.

Blocking blades with bare hands fused the offense and defense into one.

Qing could only retreat, unable to counter with anything but sporadic sword strikes.

In the blink of an eye, dozens of exchanges flowed, and Qing had retreated over thirty steps.

But even the nimblest person walking backward couldn’t outrun someone advancing forward. Moreover, the Shaolin martial arts were meant for straightforward, tough advancement; the distance gradually closed until Wolbong lunged with one foot right before her.

A large move was coming. Qing sensed it instinctively.

And indeed, as expected, the extended palm aimed for her eyes, while his tightly-coiled fist shot out with a fierce woosh, penetrating Qing’s abdomen and piercing out the back.

There was no bloodshed in the martial arts competition; Qing executed an emergency escape, combining the Nengpa Mibo’s footwork and formation to pierce through the afterimage left behind.

Like a master using spatial manipulation, Qing appeared just behind Wolbong, who had taken eight steps forward, swiftly turning.

Suddenly, Wolbong, having lost his opponent, was quick to find Qing, aiming a fist.

Then, as he turned and took a big step, he aligned his body straight to deliver a punch—

Qing felt a chill and hurriedly focused her energy.

With her output drawn up to the limit, her sword intent soared, making it seem as if the blade expanded fivefold. The great sword descended with a might that could cut anything! *Boom!!* A thunderous sound burst forth as Qing’s sword intent fanned out like a peacock’s tail, scattering wildly behind her.

Qing was violently pushed backward.

Even with her trained grip from the Supreme Hand-to-Hand Combat, the tearing pain shot through her.

It was the legendary Shaolin skill, Hundred Steps Divine Fist.

Wow, if that had hit perfectly, I’d be down for the count.

If she pulled too far back, ignorant but powerful attacks would come flying in.

With her arms fully extended and legs perfectly straight, the cocked heel of Wolbong’s back foot subtly lifted.

Qing cautiously withdrew, preparing her angle.

Finally, the moment Wolbong’s body flipped over, Qing stomped the martial arts stage with all her might and darted out.

Whoosh! The aftermath of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist whisked past her ears. Even though she’d gotten a good distance away, the residual force tickled her ears.

Qing’s new technique advanced sharply, tracing alternating paths like a lightning bolt, completely different from the elegant and leisurely Moon Lady’s Step—this was the thrilling, diamond-hard Gyeokgong Sunshin.

However, since it was a technique she wasn’t showing anyone, no one recognized it.

As Qing’s sword intent left a trace, it came crashing down on Wolbong like a lightning strike.

But at the moment of impact, Wolbong suddenly vanished from sight, performing a technique Qing also liked—this was also rooted in Shaolin’s teachings, so it could be considered original.

Like a spring, Wolbong leaped up, curling his fingers downwards for a long-distance strike. A long strike means the lowest part of the palm meets the wrist, as solid as bone, and with no loss of strength, it’s a powerful technique.

Wolbong’s long strike sunk into Qing’s abdomen.

Whack! Even with her abs braced, her breath caught in her throat, and a *cough* escaped her lips.

This wasn’t a full-blown strike from a proper stance; since it was quickly concocted merely from wrist elasticity, its power was trivial—making it bearable.

Qing completely buried her sword into the martial arts stage and threw a punch at Wolbong’s chin. Wolbong, taken aback at her unexpected move, felt his chin twist.

In truth, Qing had also mastered about thirty of the seventy-two techniques of Shaolin by now. The common barehanded martial arts sold at markets were watered-down versions. And those white-bordered lesser techniques had been leveled up with her efforts, so they barely cost her any training points.

With Wolbong staggering, Qing poured her resentment into her only strike at his solar plexus, but Wolbong’s palm blocked her fist.

Yet, Qing possessed great strength, and as Wolbong struck his own solar plexus, he gasped, expelling air from his lungs.

Qing’s eyes lit up.

Retracting her fist and leaning forward, she struck down with her elbow at ground-shattering force.

It was the striking move of the Celestial Pillar Technique.

Whack!! Another solid hit to Wolbong’s solar plexus made him expel breath again, and Qing turned her body around, attempting to follow up with the shoulder move of the Iron Mountain Technique—but—

“Ah!”

To try such a common technique against a master who had trained in the original from a young age was a grave error.

For her naivety, Qing received a harsh blow to her side and quickly snatched her sword from the martial arts stage, creating distance.

“Ahh, it hurts…”

Qing rubbed her abdomen and massaged her side, frowning.

Wolbong also took short gasps, trying to regain breath after dealing with two hits to his solar plexus.

As Qing contemplated how to beat him into submission and force him to concede, suddenly, Wolbong raised his hand.

“I humbly apologize. I had the audacity to underestimate you, Master. There was a reason my teacher told me to do my best.”

“That sounds like you weren’t giving your best until now, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. If you get wounded, please yield without hesitation.”

Then, his fist glimmered with a golden aura, shimmering like it was glowing.

-Ooh! Fist Strength!

-Supreme! Supreme Martial Artist!

In unison, the audience, who had forgotten to breathe in their excitement, erupted into cheers.

However, for Qing, this was not good news.