Chapter 247

Qing savored the essence of martial arts known as “the Shaolin of the World” and thought,

“Ugh. Gross. So filthy.”

He’s clearly a martial artist specialized in competitions, huh?

No matter how much you slash with a sword, insisting it won’t work is just passing the buck, isn’t it?

This is like a completely tilted playing field, or rather, it’s like being besieged by walls and stuck in a hopeless situation…

If it were a real sword, I wouldn’t just be peeling muscle; I’d be skinning him alive and turning him into a bloody mess! A Shaolin monk or anyone else would be crying rivers if I simply nudged the skin off.

But the Martial World Tournament isn’t just a place for friendly gatherings; it’s where a new enmity begins, right?

So, who cares if it’s filthy?

I need to find a way.

Qing briefly recalled the rules of martial competition.

Distance. Yes, distance is tricky.

Beyond martial arts, the significance of distance in combat is simply a matter of fighting itself.

In fact, a big sword is more potent than a regular sword, and a long weapon is even more powerful because it can strike from afar without warning.

Of course, you’d be vulnerable once someone closes in on you.

But assuming they’re fighting with equal skills and conditions, you’d end up wounded before you could get close to that long weapon fighter, which means the larger, longer weapon’s destructive power really matters.

However, in the days when the officials reigned supreme, carrying such “deadly weapons” was illegal, so swords were the weapon of choice among martial artists.

Swords were the ideal all-rounder weapon, just the right length and weight to handle both long and close distances, earning them the title of “king of all weapons” and the favor of martial artists.

Aside from that, there were weapons like single-edged knives with one blade or spears that could transform into a halberd or crescent moon blade by wielding two of them.

Then there were staffs and rods featuring innovative dual functionality.

Ah, and let’s not forget the wood cutting functionality for gathering firewood anytime—definitely a priority for the financially strapped or not-so-bright folks who opted for no weapons at all.

They were called “fools” (or martial artists).

Even in Qing’s hometown, famous fighters all said the same: If you see someone with a sword, run instead of fighting!

For these fools, distance was simply right into each other’s faces, sharing breath.

And they had the audacity to say that in such close proximity, no weapon could help a martial artist win.

They make an impossible assumption since they can’t even break through their opponent’s weapon to get close!

But the Shaolin folks wonderfully overcame this.

Even if not to the level of Diamond Indestructible skill, they built resistance to weapons through all sorts of external skills, including Iron Pestle Three, Fatal Palm, Bamboo Leaf Tree, Golden Bell, Meteor Long Palm, Iron Staff Skill, Friction Technique, and the amusingly named Nail Extraction technique, plus many others.

Training them from a young age, the Shaolin masters had to age quickly on the surface.

Suddenly, Qing had a significant realization.

Ah, I see now.

It’s not about technique like Yu and Gang; the whole issue was trying to seriously converse with fools in martial arts!

What kind of martial art is that?

Qing casually tucked away his sword.

Wolbong, looking puzzled, asked,

“Are you giving up?”

“Nope. I’m about to get serious.”

At that moment, Qing took his stance.

He stood with one lightly clenched fist forward while the other was angled at his solar plexus, casting a sideways glance at the opponent.

Yeah, the Han people really do love Taekwondo.

Since he’s messing about in this sacred martial arena, is there any reason for me to treat it seriously?

“Alright, here I come.”

With that, Qing charged forward.

Then, three steps in, he dashed with a forceful punch, no frills, the simplest straight punch, as Wolbong responded with an uppercut.

Boom! The clash of fists produced a sound that was practically unbelievable.

Fist Strength has power like steel—sharpness is a different animal altogether.

And Qing’s elbows were partially Diamond Indestructible, so he could handle it, even if it wasn’t elite-level strength.

Ugh, this hurts like hell.

But there’s no avoiding the pain.

Yet Wolbong’s expression turned grave; he clearly hadn’t imagined the sheer force he’d encountered.

Qing extended his sore arm again.

Wolbong’s forearm deflected Qing’s punch while the other arm swung out wide. A punch came hurtling toward Qing’s side, which he countered with an open palm.

And thus began the flurry of fists.

Dodging punches, fists collided, hands met, elbows danced through the air, and knees rose in a tangled chaos.

Setting aside the seventy-two ultimate techniques, Wolbong was a master skilled in the most powerful fighting forms, like Nahan Fist and White Lotus Divine Fist.

He was not to be compared with Qing’s amateurish Fist Techniques that were merely an imitation.

However, surprisingly, their fight was evenly matched, both sides exerting equal strength.

Why? Simply because Qing was a woman.

Wolbong, too, was annoyed about the unfairness of the sparring session from this start.

The reason being, in martial matches against female warriors, the parts he could hit were limited.

At worst, he could only aim for limbs and shoulders that wouldn’t be fatal, with the abdomen being mostly off-limits, and even if he targeted there, only above the navel.

To top it off, Qing had absolute defense over her most vulnerable spot, the solar plexus.

In contrast, Qing went for Wolbong’s chin, eyes, and head without holding back.

Wolbong’s annoyance grew stronger.

As Qing’s arms, which had been stark and sharp with straight punches, suddenly drew a soft yet odd arc, they wrapped around Wolbong’s forearm.

With one hand, Qing lifted over 200 kg, purely through the power of her arms, no recoil.

If two hands were involved, then it was 400 kg.

But using all her muscle allowed her to surpass even that; pulling a mountain with the overwhelming strength befitting a formidable heroine.

Wolbong was lifted!

Boom! With a thunderous crash, Wolbong’s body arc violently met the floor of the competition stage.

Even in this turmoil, the skills from years of intensive Shaolin training allowed him to mitigate the impact.

Nevertheless, Qing still had a firm grip on Wolbong’s wrist.

Wolbong went airborne. It was just a brief flight arching upwards, yet it astonished all the spectators at the martial competition.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Heavy collisions kept shaking the arena as worried onlookers gasped, “Is he going to die or something?!” but couldn’t look away.

This was when Qing made her decision to toss Wolbong around. Suddenly, powerful energy erupted from Wolbong’s fist, striking his own wrist like a hammer.

“Aah!”

Qing screamed when Wolbong’s fist hit her.

After one hit, she figured out—two or three more would break bones and crush her!

Wolbong’s fist wrapped around again. Qing released him just a bit before the attack reached her.

“Gah.”

Wrapping his own fist around his bruised wrist, Wolbong quickly retreated. But shortly after, he regained his balance and readied himself for a stance.

“Phew. Phew.”

Qing caught her breath.

Trying to throw a resisting person takes a whole different level of strength than just dealing with the same weighted steel ball.

And that was when Wolbong’s punch struck out unexpectedly, catching Qing off guard as she flailed back.

Qing flew away, rolling over. “Ugh, why—again with the chest! This guy! Is he just going after a girl’s chest in a martial contest now?!”

And then suddenly, a shadow loomed over.

The bold bald head blocking the sun provided a sparkling sight, prompting Qing to roll away instinctively. With countless practice, she had already honed to master the “descending maneuver” on the ground.

A punch like a hawk’s talon aimed straight for the floor near where Qing had been just moments before.

In the dizzying twirl of the world, Qing’s heart sank at missing that split second in this dangerous martial contest.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a fair duel? Isn’t this outright an assassination?

As she regained her footing, Qing noticed the look in Wolbong’s furious eyes, veins bulging.

“Whew, I underestimated you, it seems. I’ll no longer go easy on you.”

“Hah.”

Qing scoffed in disbelief.

What’s this? Why’s he getting mad?

The one who was toyed with in this sacred duel wasn’t Wolbong; it was Qing.

Until now, she’d only shown a fraction with her so-called Shaolin martial arts, merely a warning that this is how it could go if pushed, hiding her true techniques.

If he thinks he’s gonna play me like that, he’s sorely mistaken. Now Qing was truly angry, not just using martial arts but pushing forward with raw strength.

As he declared how he wouldn’t pull punches anymore, it was Wolbong who would boldly step up and attack first. In an instant, Wolbong’s figure multiplied, launching himself forward.

As Qing tried to catch incoming attacks to throw them back, it was then that Wolbong unexpectedly extended a palm from five steps away, unleashing a colossal energy blast.

It was the Diamond Shield of the Iron Fortified Body technique!

Recognizing the urgency, Qing moved with a haste akin to a flash, splitting into eight copies, flapping her arms like a bird, elegantly twisting backward, skipping across the ground, rolling away on her feet, dashing like a wild beast, soaring smoothly over the iron bridge, swiftly darting to escape, and finally, disappearing from sight just beyond four steps.

Qing executed a swift roll from the Nengpa Mibo’s emergency escape maneuver.

And again, the shining bald head of Wolbong approached, leaving behind trails of spectral images.

A myriad of techniques spilled from Wolbong’s fists.

Using six arms like an illusion, Nahan Divine Fist swirling with destructive power, and various other powers that intercepted with energy waves were released in intricate patterns, followed by more energy shots flying in parabolic arcs.

Qing wildly flailed her arms to block, evade, and dodge, or rolled and leapt to escape as fast as she could.

What’s going on? What the hell is happening?!

Only now did Qing grasp the weight of the title “Shaolin in the World.”

But her eyes remained fierce and determined.

How deep could the “supreme martial artist” level truly be? Qing wasn’t about to fall behind her unlimited inner strength!

Even if he showered her in all those techniques, no matter how many Shaolin elixirs or Great Elixirs he had for breakfast, could he withstand that?

Then, wham!

With a solid kick to the outer knee, Qing stumbled, “You sneaky bastard! Kicking like a coward!”

Of course, this was the highest-level technique known as “stealth kick”!

In her skewed vision, amidst the anger, Qing spotted the fist of Wolbong aligned next to his shining bald head.

Darting to raise an arm, kaboom!!

Qing’s spirit was shattered once more.

Spinning around, she quickly widened the gap in retreat, landing and spitting blood.

She managed to block the punch aimed at her cheek but ended up delivering a strike to her own chin, leaving her taste buds familiar with the metallic tang of blood.

“Right, I hit this one…!”

With fury in her eyes, Qing lunged forward with all her strength. The spectators blinked rapidly as the gap closed in on four zhang’s distance, astonished, their eyes wide open.

Wolbong quietly retracted his fists.

It was the preparation move for the White Lotus Divine Fist.

Finally, as he stepped forward with the massive presence of a mountain, extending his punch—

Qing too reached out, determined not to yield.

As fists and palms collided…

Deng—!!!

Suddenly, a booming bell-like sound resonated, shaking the heavens, unleashing a gust that swept almost violently into the audience, sending them swirling.

And a single piece of silk fluttered in that fierce wind, soaring into the sky.

---