Chapter Nineteen: The Underdog's Counterattack

Eighteen Arhats Formation, single-player mode?

Only now did Fahai recall Xiao Yan’s defiant martial aptitude.

Could it really be possible?

But Xiao Yan was… well, mad.

“Heh... how amusing. Did you get scared silly?” Yuan Tong, having overheard Xiao Yan’s mutterings, mocked him.

“Yuan Tong, hurry up and kill him! The longer we wait, the more likely something will go wrong…” Despite being blind, Da Vinci had been listening intently, and Xiao Yan’s tone unsettled him. He couldn’t help but urge caution.

“Don’t worry. No one can save him this time. I’ll send him to the Buddha myself.” Yuan Tong, with a flick of his orchid fingers, unleashed his inner force like a cannonball. The blast scorched a leaf and shot straight for Xiao Yan’s heart.

Whoosh—

Xiao Yan remained seated, but in that instant, he stretched lazily and yawned. “Ah... huh…”

A line of blood appeared on Xiao Yan’s shoulder, but the wound was shallow, just a graze.

Behind him, a tree crashed to the ground.

Missed?

Yuan Tong frowned. That movement of Xiao Yan’s—it seemed familiar. Where had he seen it?

The Sleeping Arhat?

Patting his nearly bald head, Yuan Tong finally recalled. It was the Sleeping Arhat from the Eighteen Arhats Formation.

Just a coincidence, surely?

“Xiao Yan, stop playing tricks…” Yuan Tong was not intimidated; absolute strength and supreme technique were on his side. His only worry was that Xiao Yan might run.

But Xiao Yan yawned again and, incredibly, fell asleep sitting up.

This… it really looked like…

Yuan Tong’s expression grew serious. With ring and thumb touching, pinky and index extended in an orchid hand, the index finger posed as a sword seal.

Radiant Monarch!

The most difficult move from the Sunflower Manual.

Suddenly, the vegetation nearby swayed violently under the pressure of his inner force.

Sensing the overwhelming power, Xiao Yan abruptly stood, and to everyone’s confusion, instead of retreating, he charged straight at Yuan Tong.

“Looking for death?” Yuan Tong sneered, launching another orchid-hand strike.

A flurry of attacks!

Yuan Tong was no fool; he wouldn’t have achieved such mastery at a young age otherwise. This chained assault—one overt, one covert. Radiant Monarch in the open, orchid-hand in the shadows.

Even Da Vinci couldn’t fully execute this technique; it was Yuan Tong’s trump card. He was confident he could best even the abbot with this move. Against Xiao Yan, it was like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

A sudden burst of sword energy shot at Xiao Yan, but as it neared, something unexpected happened.

Xiao Yan’s “Dung Shovel Treasure” transformed into a longsword, spinning forward in a spiral thrust. Then, with a shift of his body, he switched stances, turning the sword into a saber…

During his charge, Xiao Yan morphed through five or six different forms.

By combining basic martial arts with the Eighteen Arhats Formation, he actually neutralized the Radiant Monarch.

Yuan Tong stared, dumbstruck, muttering, “Impossible… Impossible… This is…the Eighteen Arhats Formation? How?”

He’d trained extensively in the Arhat Hall and knew the formation well—yet this seemed… different. Gone were the cumbersome, clumsy layers of eighteen monks; the formation had become flexible, streamlined.

“The Eighteen Arhats Formation?” Da Vinci, bewildered, asked, “Did someone from Golden Mountain Temple arrive? We’re finished… Run!”

“No, there’s no one else. Xiao Yan is using the formation by himself…”

“Oh, that’s a relief, just one person… What? Alone? The Arhats Formation?” Da Vinci’s martial logic shattered—he’d never heard of anyone wielding the formation solo.

“It’s useless, though… I’ve already used my chained assault,” Yuan Tong said calmly.

Even Da Vinci was surprised that someone with such meager internal energy could force Yuan Tong to use his trump card, though recalling his own misfortunes, he found it unsurprising.

Fahai couldn’t help but admire Xiao Yan’s perception and talent. Through simplification and adaptation, plus the versatility of the Dung Shovel Treasure, Xiao Yan had made the Eighteen Arhats Formation truly a one-man technique.

Ingenious.

There were mysteries within even Fahai couldn’t fathom.

But in this situation, there’s no time to break the orchid-hand technique… not with such weak internal force. If only Xiao Yan had reached the tenth level, there might be hope.

Still, the Sunflower Manual reigns supreme.

“Wait! What are you doing?” Fahai exclaimed.

He saw Xiao Yan still charging forward, the Dung Shovel Treasure reverting to its wooden staff form.

This was suicide.

Yuan Tong sneered. Without his chained assault, Xiao Yan might have had a chance to turn the tables. Even so, Yuan Tong couldn’t help but break a sweat—was this really the infamous, fallen wastrel?

He’d actually forced him to use his ultimate move.

“A spear!”

Xiao Yan’s expression was tense, sweat beading on his brow.

With a sudden motion, the Dung Shovel Treasure transformed into a spear, its tip aimed straight at Yuan Tong.

“Bastard! Are you really not afraid to die?” Yuan Tong growled.

Trading life for life?

Fahai: Are you insane? You’ll die too…

Xiao Yan’s mouth curled into a cold sneer, “The fool here is you, old man!”

Fahai: What do you mean…?

“Heh… Either I die, or all three of us die. As for your body-swapping schemes… you can go to hell. If we’re all dead, who will you possess?”

Fahai: Damn it! Are you threatening me, you bastard?

Xiao Yan knew it was a gamble—a gamble on whether Fahai would intervene.

“Well?”

Fahai: Damn you!

The mountain fell silent once more.

A sound—skin ripping under inner force. Xiao Yan spat a mouthful of blood…

The spear thrust into flesh.

Yuan Tong’s eyes widened in utter disbelief at the result.

“Heh… The counterattack of a failure? How utterly absurd! Laughable… Ha… I… I am a genius! This is unbearable!” Yuan Tong laughed into the sky, but it was a laugh tinged with despair.

“Yuan Tong! Are you alright?” Da Vinci, having listened to all the commotion, could no longer ignore the danger. He rushed forward, grabbed a body, and lamented, “You… sigh, you should have listened to me…”

Yuan Tong was Da Vinci’s favorite disciple, and now, heartbroken, he cradled his bald head as tears slid down his cheeks.

Wait…

Da Vinci frowned. Something was odd—the head was missing those three hairs.

“Brother Wenxi, you’ve got the wrong man. I’m Xiao Yan.”

Da Vinci was silent for a long while. “My apologies.”

“You bastard! Why aren’t you dead? Wasn’t it supposed to be mutual destruction?” Da Vinci shoved Xiao Yan away, furious.

Xiao Yan simply shook his head and ignored him.

He then turned to Zhuge Yixiu, waking him with a pat, “Hey… time to get up, Baldy.”

“Xiao… Xiao Yan? What happened to you?”

In Zhuge Yixiu’s eyes, Xiao Yan was covered in blood, a shallow gash across his chest—he must have dodged at the critical moment.

“I’m fine. Let’s go…” Xiao Yan said weakly, then glanced under a tree. “Check on Howling Celestial Dog.”

“Alright!”

Zhuge Yixiu obediently fetched the dog and reported, “It still has a pulse. If we get back to Golden Mountain Temple in time, it might survive. What about Yuan Tong?”

“I wounded him—he’s over there.” Xiao Yan gestured behind him.

Zhuge Yixiu looked at Xiao Yan, then at the bleeding, paralyzed Yuan Tong. For a moment, he was speechless.

“How did you do it?”

Xiao Yan didn’t answer. He just gave a tired smile and took the Howling Celestial Dog.

Zhuge Yixiu frowned, then said seriously, “No, wait a second…”

With that, he turned and headed toward Yuan Tong.

Xiao Yan: ???

Is this blockhead actually going to play the saint?

Behind him, Zhuge Yixiu’s footsteps thundered as he shouted, “Robbery! Hand over everything you have!”

Da Vinci: ???

!!!

He’d only ever robbed others—never been robbed himself. He was instantly on edge.

Half an hour later, Zhuge Yixiu came running back, panting, and proudly presented, “Xiao Yan, look what I got!”

It was an ancient black token, inscribed with the character “Martial.”

There were also two manuals: one titled “The Artful Empty Hand,” the other “Chen Family Swordplay.”

“There was another manual, but someone had altered the cover, so I left it,” Zhuge Yixiu explained solemnly.

Xiao Yan smiled and shook his head, “Let’s go home.”