Chapter 36: A Single Estate Against a Nation (Part Two)

Watching Kishinmaru slowly stepping upward, the Phthisic Ghost recalled that battle from years ago. Back then, he was still the lofty Grandmaster of the Nanzhi Boxing Sect, and alongside Luo Yanzong, he was hailed as the preeminent seventh Grandmaster of Cantonese Boxing.

Both were figures of immense natural talent—one practiced tendon-tempering among the four great tempering arts, while the other practiced bone-tempering; one was as ferocious as an Asura, and the other as gentle as a narcissus.

Yet in the end, his own "Twelve Turns of the Fish and Dragon" failed to withstand the eighteenth strike of his opponent’s Twenty-Four Solar Terms Whip. His major tendons were violently shattered, his vital energy and spirit were blasted apart, and it had taken him a full decade to recover.

He had relived that moment ten million times in his mind. At the time, their physical strength, boxing techniques, and combat experience were virtually matched. The reason he lost was that he had flinched at the very last moment; his martial will had been shattered by the supreme terror between life and death.

To step back for a moment was to step back for a decade.

Ten years later, when he stood upon the arena once again, he was already an "elderly man" in his thirties. At this age, the path to further progress in boxing techniques grew increasingly narrow.

Yet he still wanted to try. The dignity he had lost, he would reclaim with his own hands!

With a sudden raise of his head, the black steel monk's staff was already right before his eyes. Then, the entire ground of the Buddhist pagoda erupted with a force akin to an earthquake.

Massive fissures spread across the floor, one of which shot directly toward Kou Li. Twelve crisp snaps suddenly echoed from within Kou Li's body; with a gentle slap, his vibrating internal force neutralized the impact, and the crack halted right at his feet.

With perfected four-extremities and mastery of internal force, Kou Li, when exerting his full strength, could unleash a punch power of fifteen hundred to two thousand pounds, which was already close to the limits of the human body. Anything beyond that required either surpassing the second level of physical tempering or achieving the legendary realm of the "Human Immortal."

Yet this single strike, as Kou Li calculated, possessed a force approaching nearly five thousand pounds—this was definitely not human strength. Within his special sensory perception, a towering, black-and-red armored ghost deity, some ten zhang tall, was suppressing the arena. It was skinless and fleshless, yet its bones were several times the size of an ordinary person's. One hand was formed in a gesture of reciting Buddhist scriptures, while the other grasped a monk's staff made of dripping human heads.

The rolling ghost-deity pressure was at least thirty times greater than that of the previous Japanese demon. Under the violent tremors, many powerful experts from both sides were forced to retreat repeatedly, for once drawn into the vicinity, one's willpower would be utterly crushed by a pressure resembling Mount Fudo, filling the heart with overwhelming terror.

This kind of power and coercion was no longer a matter of brushing against death or grazing injury; to touch it was to die, and to graze it was likewise certain death.

Amidst the violent turbulence of the fist momentum, though faint, the crisp chirping of a hundred birds could still be heard. The figure of the Phthisic Ghost flickered in and out of view, and every time he appeared, it was inevitably at the opponent's blind spot, seizing or grappling without the slightest trace of mortal smoke and fire.

This was the footwork of the tendon-tempering level. Among those present, only Kou Li and the Sword God Miyamoto kept their minds focused on watching, for only their eyes could keep pace with his speed.

To rise, to follow, to pursue—such is the art of tendons. When rising, one must rise together; when following, one must follow together; when pursuing, one must catch up. When a single movement brings all three sets of tendons into play, there are no flaws.

The Nanzhi Boxing Sect encompassed more than just Nanzhi boxing; it also featured an auxiliary boxing style dedicated entirely to footwork, known as the Waterless Trace. When practiced to mastery, one could tread water leaving no trace for a brief duration, completely transcending physical boundaries—far surpassing techniques like walking-on-snow-leaving-no-trace or the cold-chicken step.

Kishinmaru’s speed, explosive power, and agility had all reached terrifying levels, yet he simply could not catch his opponent. Physical objects were easy to grab, but how does one catch the formless?

"Hehehehe, it seems this Central Plains grand boxing master is in a bad spot," said Honsomaru, his cat-like eyes revealing a cunning gleam. He could see that every move and stance of this opponent, though seemingly effortless, was entirely grounded in the Central Plains external-internal striking art. Anyone ordinary would have their entire internal organs blasted to smithereens upon taking a single hit.

Yet he did not know that Kishinmaru was no ordinary entity; thus, even after absorbing over thirty strikes, Kishinmaru showed not the slightest reaction.

And as long as one was human, physical stamina had its limits. Once the limit was reached, speed and reaction times would inevitably slow down, and at that moment would come the time for Kishinmaru to slaughter his opponent—for Kishinmaru’s stamina was limitless.

To outsiders, the scene appeared extremely perilous, yet the Phthisic Ghost was remarkably calm. He even had the leisure to analyze his strikes: eighteen targeted vulnerable joints, and nine struck fatal points, yet the opponent showed no reaction whatsoever. Either the opponent possessed a peculiar constitution with zero weak spots all over the body, or—the opponent was simply not human.

Legends of demons were widely circulated in this world, and the Phthisic Ghost was well aware of them.

The humanoid Asura he had encountered all those years ago was an entity far more terrifying than any demon.

It seemed there truly was such a thing as karmic retribution in this world. Back then, he had been crippled by the Sea Asura, and now, no sooner had he recovered his boxing skills than the universe delivered a genuine Asura for him to spar with!

The heavens had certainly been kind to him!

As the thought flashed through his mind, the Phthisic Ghost suddenly drew a deep breath. A violent rushing of air immediately echoed across the arena, as if this single inhalation intended to swallow up all the air in the space in one go. At the same time, the twelve major tendons of his human body bulged like small serpents.

The Hand Taiyin Lung Tendon, Hand Jueyin Pericardium Tendon, Hand Shaoyin Heart Tendon, Hand Yangming Large Intestine Tendon, Hand Shaoyang Sanjiao Tendon, Hand Taiyang Small Intestine Tendon, Foot Yangming Stomach Tendon, Foot Shaoyang Gallbladder Tendon, Foot Taiyang Bladder Tendon, Foot Taiyin Spleen Tendon, Foot Jueyin Liver Tendon, and Foot Shaoyin Kidney Tendon.

An extra inch of tendon, three feet of thick muscle, tenfold explosive strength, and an added year of life—only martial artists themselves truly understood that grand boxing masters at the four-great-tempering level were equally monsters!

With a twist of his body, turning his back and aligning his spine, pulling and stretching his tendons, he gave the impression of a normal human being instantly elongating and widening, sliding seamlessly behind his opponent. Hooking and twisting his ten fingers, they grew dark, thick, and long like braided dough, instantly wrapping around the opponent's monk's staff. That five-thousand-pound monstrous strength plunged like a heavy hammer into the deep sea; as the twelve major tendons expanded and contracted, the staff strike capable of shattering the earth became deeply embedded within, unable to free itself.

The Taiyin Turn!

The Phthisic Ghost arched his back and tucked his hips, his chest, waist, and hips exhaling and inhaling in unison. His physique distorted into an unimaginable shape, and before anyone knew it, his ten fingers coiled around Kishinmaru’s forearm. With a twist and a turn, the forearm bone was directly rotated a full three hundred and sixty degrees.

The pounding of a heart sounding like wooden mallets echoed in unison with this twist.

Kishinmaru remained expressionless, reversing his black steel monk's staff with a backhand twist. With a flick of his palm, a flurry of crisp "tinkling" sounds erupted. Monstrous strength surged to the tip of the staff, causing the shaft to spin like an electric drill, instantly thrusting toward his opponent's forehead.

If this move landed solidly, it could pierce a stone mill as easily as skewering candied haws.

Treating the perilous situation as nothing, the Phthisic Ghost swiveled his waist and twisted his arms, hooking his lower stance like Guanyin sitting on a lotus. While dodging the thrust, his legs wrapped around the opponent's lower leg as if boneless. Drawing energy through his kidneys and lifting his anus, the Shaoyin Turn!

Another crisp snap echoed as Kishinmaru's shin bone was twisted another full circle.

As the temple-guarding ghost deity general drove its staff into the ground, its Buddhist palm formed fingers and thrust forward, splitting the air with an explosive crack: the Ghost Buddha Finger!!

In the eyes of the Phthisic Ghost, it was as though the palm of Tathagata Buddha was cleaving straight down.

This time, I will never let you suppress my heart!

With his shoulders sinking and arms rotating, the bones of his upper and lower arms whirled in circles. Around the Hand Yangming Tendon, countless steel-like fine threads suddenly coiled like a spider's web, resembling a rotating steel axle—the Yangming Turn!

"The Bodhidharma Staff Technique!"

Kou Li’s ears twitched as he heard the startled cries of others. If he remembered correctly, the Bodhidharma Staff Technique was not only one of the thirty-six arts of the Arhat Temple, but also reputed to be the premier subjugation technique for long weapons.

The Arhat Temple fire-staff technique, specially developed by the Hong Family Army back in the day to counter the sword-drawing techniques of Japanese assassins, was actually a simplified version of the Bodhidharma Staff.

As for the authentic Bodhidharma Staff technique, it was said to have long since been burned to ashes in the great fires set by the imperial court; who would have thought it still had a successor in the Japanese nation?

*Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Striking the head from above, sweeping the roots from below, poking the wrists on both sides, and piercing the heart in the center—one move linked to the next, one ring interlocking with another. Bodhidharma subjugated demons, and the ghost general transformed into a Buddha!

The massive, bizarre psychological field felt almost tangible. In the eyes of the Phthisic Ghost, it manifested a grand image of a ghost-Buddha, colossal and solemn, evil yet righteous, delivering all living beings while suppressing his heart.

At the same time, the cleaving strikes of the Bodhidharma Staff were equally fierce and ferocious to the extreme. Wherever the aftershocks swept, they shattered the nine-foot-high arena boulders into pieces, and the bluestones spanning several yards were directly pulverized into powder.

Such momentum, such psychological oppression, was virtually indistinguishable from the Twenty-Four Solar Terms Whip of years past.

The mental state within the Phthisic Ghost's heart felt as though it were being devoured by ghosts and gods; his head, body, hands, and feet were sinking into it bit by bit.

Yet even as the divine light in his eyes grew increasingly dim and his consciousness bordered on nothingness, the Twelve Turns of the Fish and Dragon remained ghostly and unpredictable, turning spirits and circling demons.

The Taiyin Turn, Jueyin Turn, Shaoyin Turn, Yangming Turn, Shaoyang Turn, Taiyang Turn—the segmentation and bone-breaking techniques, complex and profound to the extreme, continued almost without pause.

He moved like a walking corpse, yet showed not the slightest sign of stopping.

A infatuated woman never changes her mind, a heartbroken man never ceases his devotion.

Great infatuation, great sorrow, great illusion—none of them compare to a night of supreme intoxication.

"This boxing technique... I feel like I've seen it somewhere before," someone muttered, feeling a sudden pang of sour ache in their heart, as if they had been abandoned by the woman they loved.

Once the twelve turns were complete, Kishinmaru, who had nearly destroyed the greater part of the arena, abruptly halted his movements.

"In this life, I knew not yearning; the moment I learned yearning, yearning became my affliction. Buddhas know yearning, and demons know yearning," the Phthisic Ghost paused. "The Knot of Yearning."

Joining his fingers, he tapped gently. Kishinmaru, wrapped in Japanese heavy armor, split apart into twelve pieces with a crisp *rip*.

"I remember now! He is the exiled immortal, Zhou Zhexian—the Nine-Cantons Immortal Boxing!!"

Even boxing practitioners who had just entered the martial world remembered it now—the stories told by their elders of that brilliantly talented prodigy of Cantonese boxing from ten years ago.

"Grand Chief, you aren't the only one aiming to become a Cantonese Boxing Grandmaster," the Phthisic Ghost—no, Zhou Zhexian—smiled lightly.

"Breaking the thieves in the mountains is easy; breaking the thieves in the heart is hard. Good, you are very good," Kou Li grinned. He knew that his opponent had completely shattered the mental barrier of years past, pushing his boxing techniques a step further into the realm of treating life and death as ethereal.

He was also delighted. Only when someone chased from behind could the runner ahead sprint even faster; the harder the whetstone, the sharper the blade it forged.

The whetstone before him squeezed a tangible sense of excitement from the depths of his bones, making his fists and feet eager for action.

"The battle of today is done—how about we meet again tomorrow?" Honsomaru said gloomily, looking at the fragmented corpse that had not shed a single drop of blood.

Kou Li glanced at the basketball-court-sized main arena, which was now mostly ruined, and nodded slowly. He also needed time for this event to ferment and spread.

"Agreed."

In a single night, the news swept across the southeastern martial arts circles: Southeast of Fengfu Town, a single prefecture defied an entire nation!