Chapter 46: The Ten-Move Challenge

Chapter 46: The Ten-Move Challenge

There is an old saying: “Never strike someone’s face, and never expose their weaknesses when insulting them.” Yet Zheng Jian’s words mercilessly uncovered Cheng Buyou’s shortcomings.

“Resentment value from Cheng Buyou +666.”

Cheng Buyou’s nose skewed with rage, and he turned to glare at Zheng Jian. “Who are you?”

Elder Yue feigned anger, casting a stern look at Zheng Jian, then calmly replied, “My young disciple is mischievous, Brother Cheng, please don’t take offense. Allow me to introduce him—this is the eldest disciple you claim has been corrupted, Zheng Jian!”

Cheng Buyou was startled. Recently, the reputation of “The Restorer Swordsman” Zheng Jian had shaken the entire martial world. He knew well this was the man who had fought three at once and slain two masters from Mount Song—indeed, a formidable figure!

Instantly, Cheng Buyou fell silent. He knew from bitter experience that he was no match for Zheng Jian.

Feng Buping’s expression remained unchanged. “Brother Yue, let us not circle around any longer. Let our skills speak for themselves.”

“Brother Feng, must you insist on disrupting this harmony?” Elder Yue frowned. “If you believe your martial arts are superior, why not establish your own school? Even if you surpass Huashan, I would only admire you.”

Feng Buping snorted coldly. “We had no grievances between us, but the means used in the past Sword Qi dispute were truly dishonorable. The Sword Sect’s defeat was ambiguous and unjust. I have endured this for more than twenty years, and today, it must be settled!”

Seeing this, Zheng Jian stepped forward. “Ordinary people can only hold their breath for a few moments, even martial artists can’t suppress their anger for twenty years. How did you manage it? Do you not need to breathe?”

Feng Buping: “……”

The younger disciples could barely contain their laughter. Clearly, the ‘anger’ he spoke of was not about breathing.

“Resentment value from Feng Buping +100.”

“You brat, how dare you interrupt when elders are speaking!” Feng Buping, stung by Zheng Jian’s words, snapped angrily.

“Enough, enough—you just want a fight, don’t you? These days, wanting to hit someone is easy; wanting to be beaten is even easier. There’s no need to trouble my master. If you can handle me—well, you probably know you can’t—but if you can withstand ten moves from me, I’ll count it as your victory. How about it?”

Feng Buping looked to Elder Yue.

Elder Yue understood and smiled gently. “I support my disciple’s suggestion—let it be limited to ten moves, so we avoid harming the camaraderie.” He had confidence in Zheng Jian; others might not know, but he was aware that Zheng Jian’s skills far surpassed his own. If Zheng Jian went all out, Feng Buping might not survive ten moves.

Seeing this, Feng Buping had no choice but to agree. Everyone present knew of the “Restorer Swordsman’s” terrifying achievements, and though Feng Buping was Zheng Jian’s senior, he dared not overestimate himself. Fortunately, with the limit set at ten moves, he felt confident he could endure.

They faced each other, five paces apart.

Zheng Jian held his sword and saluted. “You are my senior, I am your junior. I’ll let you make the first move, so no one can say I’m disrespectful to elders.”

Feng Buping couldn’t stand it. He shouted, “Nonsense! When has a senior ever attacked a junior first? Go ahead and strike—I’ll let you have three moves!”

Zheng Jian, hearing this, felt a touch of respect for Feng Buping. Though he had borrowed the influence of Mount Song, he still retained some dignity and self-confidence.

“In that case, please be careful, Senior Feng!” Zheng Jian began with the basic Huashan sword technique, “The Phoenix Comes to Rest.”

In the preceding half month, half of the true energy within him had transformed into Xiantian energy—more precisely, Purple Mist Xiantian True Qi (not the true Xiantian realm, but the energy derived from Xiantian techniques, abbreviated as Xiantian True Qi). When he unleashed it now, there was indeed the force of wind and thunder. The dazzling sword light danced, countless sword shadows surged toward Feng Buping.

Watching from the sidelines, Le Hou—the master of Yin-Yang Hand—was deeply shocked. As one of Mount Song’s top experts, he was well acquainted with Huashan swordplay, yet never imagined it could manifest such power in Zheng Jian’s hands. Instantly, he understood why Fei Bin, Ding Mian, and Lu Bai had all lost to this young man.

This youth, despite his age, had power that placed him among the top masters. In the entire righteous martial world, only a handful at the level of the sect leader could confidently defeat him—no more than a palm’s worth.

“Such terrifying talent! When I return, I must report to the sect leader himself. We must act early, lest he become a grave threat in the future!” So Le Hou vowed silently.

Cheng Buyou and Cong Buqi were equally astonished. Both were staunch Sword Sect supporters, believing that swordplay was the foundation and energy cultivation was insignificant.

The main reason was that energy cultivation progressed far too slowly—requiring decades of arduous effort!

Yet they could not fathom how this young Zheng Jian, also cultivating energy, possessed such deep and refined power. Had he consumed some rare heavenly treasure?

The greatest pressure, of course, fell upon Feng Buping, caught in the storm. He could scarcely believe “The Phoenix Comes to Rest” could wield such terrifying might. Just how profound was this youth’s power?

Immediately, Feng Buping retreated, no longer caring for his earlier offer of three moves. His sword flashed, thrusting eighteen times in an instant. Each strike was fierce and unpredictable, weaving a net of sword light before him, desperately fending off Zheng Jian’s onslaught.

“Superb swordplay! Senior Feng, you are indeed a Sword Sect master. Such skill is truly exquisite!” Zheng Jian praised aloud. He could tell at a glance that these eighteen strikes originated from one of the Huashan sword techniques engraved on the cave wall—split into eighteen, appearing diverse, yet ultimately within its scope.

Even so, Zheng Jian had to admit that Feng Buping was remarkable. Those sword techniques carved into the stone were the work of former Sword Sect masters, reaching the pinnacle of Huashan swordplay. And after they were lost, Feng Buping had managed to reconstruct and even develop them further—his mastery of the sword was superb!

Unfortunately, his opponent was Zheng Jian.

Sheer strength prevails over countless skills.

When faced with overwhelming power, the advantage that technique brings is negligible.

Zheng Jian changed his moves; “The Phoenix Comes to Rest” transformed into “The Pine Welcomes the Guest,” another Huashan sword technique. Yet, powered by Purple Mist Xiantian True Qi, it surged like a tempest, crushing down upon Feng Buping with unstoppable momentum, utterly devoid of any embellishment.

Zheng Jian did not employ the “Nine Swords of Dugu,” nor did he use the Sword Sect’s techniques from Huashan. Through his actions, he showed Feng Buping there was no real dispute between sword and energy. The true way was to combine both. Look—once energy is achieved, every move possesses immense power; even the most ordinary sword technique can become miraculous!

Feng Buping managed to withstand six moves. By the seventh, Zheng Jian’s sword light had sealed off all escape routes—there was nowhere to retreat, nowhere to dodge!

Staring at the sword light breaking through his defenses, Feng Buping thought to himself, “My fate is sealed!”

……

(End of chapter)