Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Fist Intent of Spirits and Gods

When the two of them returned to the martial arts hall, less than half an hour had passed before Luo Yanzong hurried back as well. Seeing that Kou Li was unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Eighth Brother, thank goodness you’re all right.”

“Boss, who held you up?” asked Lin Xianshi.

“A few death-sworn fighters from the underground boxing world.”

The so-called underground boxing referred to a style that disregarded body cultivation and instead emphasized ferocious combat techniques. Originating from Siam, this style pushed the body to its limits through brutal training, allowing for explosive killing moves. Though its effects were quick but short-lived, it was quite popular among some aristocratic families.

“Master, just who was behind this? Why are they after our junior brother again?”

Kou Li shook his head and briefly recounted the kidnapping of Young Master Huang on the gambling boat. Luo Yanzong and Lin Xianshi exchanged silent glances.

This Eighth Brother—always getting into trouble!

“I wonder if this golden canary from the Palace has orders from above,” Lin Xianshi mused calmly.

“Master, I heard that in recent years the court has been secretly hunting rebels, especially after the fire at Arhat Monastery. They went from acting openly to operating in the shadows—”

Lin Xianshi stopped Luo Yanzong’s speculation and reiterated, “Court matters are not our concern. Eighth Brother, this upcoming match doesn’t look promising for you. You still want to fight?”

“Yes,” Kou Li replied without hesitation.

“Boss, for the next eight days, leave the rest of the hall’s affairs to others. Focus on instructing Eighth Brother.”

“Yes, Master.”

After giving his instructions, Lin Xianshi chuckled, picked up his teapot, and wandered off, looking completely at ease—gone was the invincible aura from earlier when he’d uprooted a tree and smashed people with it.

“Eighth Brother, you’re injured, aren’t you? Internal injuries?” Luo Yanzong noticed Kou Li frowning from time to time and finally realized something was wrong.

Kou Li nodded silently and lifted his sleeve, revealing several grayish bruises.

“Internal-style boxing, internal strikes—you actually faced an expert in the internal arts. These internal injuries are the most troublesome. In a few days, you’ll be lucky to recover eighty percent. And you still want to fight a life-or-death match?!”

“It’s a rare opportunity,” Kou Li replied. He had a premonition: if he could withstand the demonic intent of that master’s fists and grasp the essence of the Dragon Form, he could break through layers of killing intent, merge dragon with tiger, and elevate the Fierce Tiger Fist to its consummate state.

He didn’t want to pass up such a chance.

No ordeal ever comes when you are fully prepared.

Luo Yanzong could only sigh. “Your life is given by heaven, but your path is chosen by yourself. Don’t regret it.”

“By the way, Senior Brother, what exactly is internal-style boxing, and what does ‘internal strike’ mean?” Kou Li asked with genuine curiosity.

---

“You’re just like Second Brother,” Luo Yanzong said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Internal-style boxing has both internal and external striking methods, both unique ways of delivering force. The difference lies in breathing techniques: the former focuses on channeling energy within, the latter emphasizes distributing power throughout the body.”

“For example, my own ‘cold spring snap’ technique—tendons like springs, bones like needles—borrows strength from the bones to fire the tendons outward. That’s internal-style boxing with external strikes.”

“And take the Tai Chi Ball, for instance. Once you’ve tempered the twelve great tendons, the body forms a ball-like structure—turning, revolving, the upper and lower body moving in concert. With each movement, energy and blood flow through the body with the force of the fist, rippling everywhere, internal and external in harmony. When one part moves, the whole body responds. That’s internal-style boxing with internal strikes. There are also techniques like soft coiling, quicksilver force, and others—unique strengths of internal boxing. In the south, most styles, especially the animal imitation forms, are internal. You’ll encounter these in the future, junior brother.”

Kou Li nodded in thoughtful silence. He wondered what kind of power the Fierce Tiger Fist would yield once fully mastered, and whether he would need to study another style to achieve perfection.

He wanted to discuss more with Luo Yanzong, but his senior brother insisted he rest and recuperate, so he had no choice but to comply.

Back in his own room, Kou Li found that aside from Zheng Bao’er, the entire “Five Standing Pillar Group” was present—including Jiang Shuiyuan and Ma Yuan, whom he hadn’t seen for days, both looking at him eagerly.

“Kou Brother, rumor has it you’re going to have a life-or-death match with Diao Fengsheng, the number one southern free fighter?” Jiang Shuiyuan asked, both excited and incredulous.

“It’s true. Why, has everyone heard already?” Kou Li was taken aback.

“More than that! Even the gambling dens of Yuezhou City have set odds. You’re at ten to one, and Diao Fengsheng is at even odds. Are you really going to fight? He was the most notorious fighter in Yuezhou back in the day!”

“Of course. My mastery of the fist is just a hair’s breadth from perfection, and even if he was a legend in his youth, Diao Fengsheng is nearly fifty now, hasn’t entered the Four Great Refinements, hasn’t fought in years, his stamina has waned, and he’s got old injuries. By all accounts, my chances are better,” Kou Li replied calmly. “If I were you, I’d bet a large sum—ten to one odds could set you up for three years!”

“Yeah, they don’t know how abnormal—uh, how powerful—you are, Brother!” Shrimphead blurted out.

In truth, Kou Li’s notable victories—against the Soul-chasing Wolf, Lu Yao, and the One-horned Shark—were all unknown to outsiders. He was only known as a novice from the Burning Body Hall.

Given that, the odds were naturally exaggerated.

“Brother makes a good point,” Jiang Shuiyuan, ever the businessman, mused.

So long as you haven’t entered the Four Great Refinements, the saying holds true: ‘A young fist is the most dangerous.’ Even that old eunuch before relied on his unique ‘severance’ to lock in his essence and delay the decline of body and technique.

Of course, what they didn’t know was that Diao, the head of the Diao Family School, possessed a strange, almost supernatural fist technique that could entirely compensate for his lack of stamina.

Kou Li was up against a master whose skill was near the level of the old eunuch—someone who had brought his art to consummation.

“Of course, if you don’t trust me, you could lend me some silver—double the interest, how about that?”

“Huh?”

“What, you think I wouldn’t repay you? Don’t forget, Bao’er’s grandfather is the Grandmaster of the Yu Bank. With him around, you think I’d default?” Kou Li coaxed.

If he won, it’d be a tenfold payoff. If he lost, well, it’d hardly be his concern—let Old Man Zheng worry about it.

---

The young martial artists were all excited or just looking forward to the spectacle. After all, the opponent was a legendary figure, and there was a peculiar sense of pride in being associated with such an event.

Only Bao’er remained silent. After the others left, she spoke quietly, “Brother Kou, can you not fight?”

“Why?”

“It’s too dangerous. Bao’er can see the thing behind your head—it’s getting fainter. It was never like this before. Really, it always used to shine brightly.”

Kou Li fell silent. Zheng Xiaobao’s fortune-telling ability had already been validated in the past. So, the odds were truly not in his favor.

“Bao’er, you’re different from me. You already have your path—a wide, sunny road. But your brother is still climbing a sheer cliff. I’m not afraid of losing or winning. What I fear is that if I step back, look down, I might never have the courage to climb any higher.”

In front of this child, Kou Li finally confessed his true feelings. Beneath his bravado, anxiety and uncertainty had always lingered in his heart.

Maybe Zheng Xiaobao understood, maybe not. But he seemed to make up his mind, taking off his agate prayer beads and placing them in Kou Li’s hand. “Brother Kou, this will protect you.”

“I don’t ask gods or buddhas for protection,” Kou Li shook his head.

“No, this is Bao’er’s own prayer.”

Kou Li hesitated, then accepted the beads earnestly. “Thank you, Bao’er. I’ll return them after the match.”

Zheng Bao’er seemed to feel she had done something truly helpful and immediately relaxed, soon tugging at Kou Li to tell her a story.

But as Kou Li held the prayer beads, his mind was elsewhere. The head of the Diao Family School’s fist technique was surely far more formidable than that red-eyed enforcer’s, and the demonic intent it radiated would be several times more intense, enough to shake the soul.

Perhaps this would help him awaken the essence of Dragon Form, but regardless of success or failure, he needed a backup plan—how to break through the opponent’s fist intent.

Such a demonic will could not be dispelled by ordinary means. But Kou Li had seen something even more overwhelming—the two massive swastikas inside the prayer beads, brimming with the collective will of all beings.

And the wordless diagram had given him the ability to amplify and refine certain physical sensations, allowing him to synchronize with the tiger. If he could meditate upon these Buddhist symbols, perhaps he could comprehend a way to counter the demonic fist.

Moreover, Kou Li suspected that Diao Fengsheng, the head of the Diao Family School, had managed to fuse martial arts and mystical arts to some extent; all the signs pointed to something uncanny.

If so, this would be crucial for him to find the link between the two, and, ultimately, to knock at the gates of immortality through martial prowess.

This fight—he had to take it!