Chapter 65: Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms vs. Jade Needle Purity Palms

“In the face of absolute power, all schemes and plots are nothing but futile efforts.”

“With such meager skills, he dares challenge Xie Yan-ke? Truly overestimating himself.”

“If word of today’s events gets out, Yun Zhonghe will become the butt of every joke.”

…

The mocking and scornful voices reached Yun Zhonghe’s ears, but his expression remained unchanged.

Their only weapon was their tongues, after all.

Not just any common nobody had the right to cross swords with Xie Yan-ke.

For Yun Zhonghe, the fact that Xie Yan-ke regarded him with respect was a stroke of fortune.

After all, it was not every day one could spar with a top master of the martial world.

He let out a heavy breath, his body lowering gradually to the ground, resembling a beast ready to pounce on its prey, poised to strike.

In the blink of an eye, before anyone could react, Yun Zhonghe shot forth like a panther.

His figure became a blur, moving at blinding speed.

All the crowd saw was a flash of black, and in the next instant, Yun Zhonghe was within Xie Yan-ke’s range.

His hands formed complex seals, inner energy surging as a golden dragon coiled around him.

A dragon’s roar thundered in their ears, startling everyone present.

Their shock rendered their voices shrill.

“The Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms?”

“That’s the signature technique of Elder Hong, the Northern Beggar! How could Yun Zhonghe possibly know it?”

“The shameless thief! He must have stolen the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms from Chief Hong!”

Fury seized the crowd—they wanted nothing more than to rush forward and tear Yun Zhonghe apart on the spot.

It never crossed their minds that the technique had been passed to Yun Zhonghe willingly by Hong Qigong himself.

To them, such a notion was absurd.

Who was Hong Qigong, and who was Yun Zhonghe? How could the former ever aid the latter in wreaking havoc across Jianghu?

Xie Yan-ke, a veteran of the martial world, naturally knew the reputation of the Northern Beggar’s Dragon Palms.

He looked at Yun Zhonghe with surprise in his eyes.

He had not expected Yun Zhonghe’s fortunes to be so great that he would receive Hong Qigong’s personal instruction.

Were it not for that, no matter how talented Yun Zhonghe was, he could never have grasped the true essence of these palms.

“I have long heard of the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms’ renown. Today, let me put it to the test,” Xie Yan-ke said.

He gathered his formidable internal power into his palm, the force swirling until it became a violent wind.

He unleashed the Green Needle Purifying Palm he had devised himself.

It collided with the golden dragon formed by Yun Zhonghe’s inner strength.

A thunderous crash resounded as their powers met in midair.

Invisible shockwaves erupted from their clash, surging outward from the two as the epicenter.

Each wave was stronger than the last, like the pounding of tides.

The onlookers were all forced back more than ten steps before they could steady themselves, clutching their dazed chests with anxious faces.

But they wasted no time; their gazes snapped back to the arena.

The golden dragon and the green palm wind clashed repeatedly, their energies growing ever more terrifying.

Anyone caught in the crossfire, unless of considerable strength, would surely perish on the spot.

“I never expected Yun Zhonghe’s inner power to become so profound.”

“The Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms is the mightiest of external techniques—the higher the internal strength, the greater the power.”

“Yun Zhonghe’s Dragon Palms are in no way inferior to Hero Guo’s.”

At these words, many faces shifted.

If Yun Zhonghe had indeed stolen the technique, he could never display its true might.

There remained only one possible explanation.

The Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms had been personally taught to him by Hong Qigong.

Hong Qigong was known for his hatred of evil—how could he possibly consort with a villain?

Could the rumors be mistaken, or was there some hidden truth, and had they misjudged Yun Zhonghe’s character?

This brought to mind rumors that had circulated recently in the martial world:

It was said that Huo Du had caused chaos atop Mount Zhongnan, but Yun Zhonghe had intervened, saving the Quanzhen Sect from disaster.

There was further news that Yun Zhonghe’s past misdeeds were all due to Huo Du’s framing and had nothing to do with him.

Naturally, they had not believed Yun Zhonghe’s claims.

Now, it seemed, he had spoken the truth.

They could only hope that Elder Hong had not misjudged him, and that Yun Zhonghe would not bring disgrace upon the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the Dragon Palms began to gain the upper hand over the Green Needle Purifying Palm.

Xie Yan-ke’s body trembled slightly. To the astonishment of all present, he slowly took a step back.

For the first time in his duel with Xie Yan-ke, Yun Zhonghe had seized the advantage.

Seeing that Yun Zhonghe had forced him back a step, Xie Yan-ke’s eyes flashed with surprise—and greater still, with admiration.

Yun Zhonghe’s skill now matched his own.

At that moment, Xie Yan-ke understood why Yun Zhonghe had refused to take him as a master.

His reluctance to switch allegiances was but an excuse; the true reason was that, with his current martial prowess, even Xie Yan-ke had little left to teach him.

This realization brought a fleeting look of disappointment to Xie Yan-ke’s eyes, swiftly replaced by determination.

Yun Zhonghe’s dazzling performance fully awakened Xie Yan-ke’s desire for victory.

If he were to lose to a younger generation in front of so many witnesses, where would he put his old face?

With that thought, Xie Yan-ke summoned all his internal strength. His palm spun lightly, then his fingers flicked.

A beam of pure energy, condensed from his inner force, shot forth.

The golden dragon, already weakened from its clash with the Green Needle Purifying Palm, could not withstand another blow.

The energy beam pierced through the dragon with unstoppable momentum, fragmenting it bit by bit.

As the golden dragon scattered into countless points of starlight, falling to the ground, the energy beam too faded away, spent.

This exchange ended in a draw—neither side had gained the upper hand.

They each quickly adjusted their breathing, then their figures flashed forward like lightning.

Before the crowd could react, the two figures collided like needle against awl.

Another muffled explosion, like distant thunder, filled the air.

Their movements were so swift that all anyone could see were two blurred shadows interweaving.

In the span of a few short moments, they had exchanged hundreds of blows.

Fists and palms flew, neither yielding an inch.

The onlookers kept their distance.

The shockwaves from the combat were deadly—if struck, death was certain; if grazed, injury inevitable.

Yet not a single gaze left the two fighters, for everyone was eager to see how the contest would end.

Another savage impact rang out.

Yun Zhonghe’s body was thrown back more than ten meters, skidding across the ground by the forceful rebound of Xie Yan-ke’s inner energy.

When he finally stopped, the flagstones beneath his feet splintered from the tremendous force.

Barely steadying himself, he felt his blood churning uncontrollably, and could not help but spit out a mouthful of blood, scattering crimson drops across the ground.

In the sunlight, the blood gleamed with a chilling scarlet, startling the crowd.

His once rosy complexion faded rapidly before their eyes, and the powerful aura he exuded waned into weakness.

Seeing this, everyone could not help but gasp.