Chapter 189: Furious Sword Roars in the Wild Sands
Subtle clues were hidden, laying the groundwork for a thousand li.
Zhou Yan, referencing fragments of clues from Legend of the Condor Heroes and the world of Legend of the Condor Heroes, combined with the current trends of various Jianghu events, had made a rough guess.
The Indian Monk was Master Yideng’s Junior Brother, heading to Western Hunan to find the Golden Doll. As for whether the other party knew Master Yideng was within the vicinity of Iron Palm Mountain.
Perhaps he knew, or perhaps he coincidentally arrived at Master Yideng’s secluded dwelling while searching for the Golden Doll.
The Indian Monk asked why the Monk, who was cultivating in the Western Regions, had come to Shaolin in the Central Plains. That Monk should have been from Ku Hui Chan Master’s lineage.
The man who drew his saber had said to the man wearing the felt hat, “No need for Master to make a move,” clearly indicating the other party was from the Vajra Sect of the Western Regions. Furthermore, Zhou Yan was familiar with a move: by placing his left palm over his right, he could unleash Peng Force and also a Penetrating Force akin to striking a mountain from afar. If nothing unexpected occurred, it was the Vajra Prajna Palm.
This muddy water had to be waded through.
Whether Duan Huai’an could be resurrected depended on the Indian Monk.
The Vajra Sect of the Western Regions were enemies.
As Zhou Yan moved, his left hand swept out, and his right hand unleashed a palm strike, “Kanglong Regret,” one of the Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms.
He diligently practiced the “Yijin Forging Bone Chapter” from the Nine Yin Manual, drank Hundred Herbs Wine, and his current cultivation had increased by a full forty percent compared to when he went to the Ancient Tomb. As he pushed out a palm, the sharp palm wind produced a sound in the air like soybeans popping in a pot. In the eyes of the man with the felt hat, Zhou Yan’s palm and momentum were like a devouring force descending upon him.
“Who is this meddler, tired of living?” the man with the felt hat roared. He placed his left palm over his right, and with a slight crossing of his palms, like a blue lotus blooming before Buddha, he met Zhou Yan’s Subduing Dragon Palm.
With a muffled thud.
The air at the edge of their palms actually formed a transparent vortex, which then emitted a sharp sound like tearing silk.
The felt hat on the man’s head was suddenly lifted by the surge of force, revealing a shiny bald head.
Zhou Yan’s body dipped and rose, using the “Crushing Hardness Divine Claw” to grip the opponent’s shoulder. The Monk exhaled like thunder, his shoulder muscles bulging. Zhou Yan suddenly felt as if his hands were gripping hard stone. In an instant, the Monk changed his palm to a fist. The direct punch made no sound of breaking wind, as if all the air had been compressed at the fist’s tip, striking towards Zhou Yan’s chest.
Before the fist arrived, Zhou Yan’s grey robe caved in like a vortex. In a flash of lightning, he bent his body into the arc of drawing a bow. His head and feet remained still, using the backward indentation of his chest and back to create space. In an instant, his right hand struck towards the opponent’s head.
This instantaneous, on-the-spot adaptation was the experience honed through countless sparring matches.
At best, the Monk could only inflict serious injuries on him, while he could shatter the Monk’s bald head with a single palm strike.
The Monk from the Vajra Sect sensed something was wrong, thinking, “This brat has the ruthlessness of my Master, to confront my Vajra Fist with a mutually destructive approach.”
The Monk retracted his head and leaned back, kicking out with his legs. Zhou Yan crossed his left arm over his chest, blocking the opponent’s left foot, and with his right hand, he used a seize and capture technique from Yue Family Scattered Hands, gripping the opponent’s ankle.
The muscles in Zhou Yan’s hand writhed like a giant python. Using the force of the Monk’s kick absorbed by his left hand, he spun his body, lifting the Monk with one hand like a stone lock used in daily practice, and smashing him to the ground.
The thick wooden table was smashed to pieces with a bang, dust and smoke billowed, and the Monk’s body left a conspicuous mark on the ground, sliding a dozen feet away.
The Monk felt his Qi and Blood boiling, his back as if it had fallen apart. Only then did he rise with “Kite Turns Over.” As Zhou Yan advanced, the formidable palm strikes of the Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms, such as “Shocking a Hundred Miles,” “Advantageous Crossing the Great River,” “Dense Cloud Cover,” and “Fish Leaping into the Abyss,” attacked relentlessly.
The Monk’s body danced and swayed wildly, as if he had changed four or five forms and six or seven types of fist and palm techniques in an instant. Yet, he was still enveloped by Zhou Yan’s palm strikes, unable to escape. Amidst the Monk’s furious roars, his body continuously retreated, crashing against the wall with a bang. Instantly, dirt flew from behind him, and then the Monk was driven into the wall by Zhou Yan’s “Riding the Six Dragons,” crashing through the wall with a boom.
In Zhou Yan’s perception, the Monk’s martial arts were a notch higher than Bao Neng, whom he had killed at the Tong Pass Yellow River wharf, and slightly inferior to the Monk who assassinated Wanyan Honglie in Zhongdu. He should be Bao Neng’s Senior Brother.
The scorching sun was like fire, cracking the earth. The Monk, flying out of the inn, hit the ground and bounced a few times like skipping a stone, then leaped up and fled madly.
Perhaps sensing a fatal crisis, the previously ferocious and fierce Monk didn’t even utter a harsh word, fearing that any leakage of breath would affect his escape time.
He could fight, and he knew when to cut his losses and run, showing no regard for the demeanor of a master when escaping. Facing such an opponent, if he gained the upper hand, he would show no mercy. Zhou Yan leaped out, like a shadow.
A Runner shouted, “Head Escort, the bow.”
Zhou Yan, in mid-air, flipped his left elbow. The Ox Horn Giant Bow appeared before him in a circle through the dust. As he landed, he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, his bow drew like a full moon. With a “bang,” the long arrow pushed aside the wrinkled air and whistled towards the Monk.
In a flash of lightning, he nocked a second long arrow and shot it out. Then, Zhou Yan’s body leaned forward like a leopard, sprinting towards the Monk. He held the giant bow horizontally before him, drawing it again. The bowstring hummed, and the long arrow shot out like lightning once more.
The Monk discerned the sound of the wind and, with a backhand palm strike, deflected an arrow. He then rolled to the ground to dodge the second, third, and fourth arrows. Suddenly, the wind from his robes approached like thunder. The Monk, rolling to his feet, turned and unleashed a “Vajra Prajna Palm.”
What met the Monk was the long arrow Zhou Yan held in his hand.
“Ah!” Amidst a hysterical scream, the arrowhead pierced the Monk’s hands. Zhou Yan’s right hand circled and hooked, twisted left and right before the Monk’s eyes, then suddenly extended, his five fingers plunging directly into the Monk’s forehead.
The Monk fell backward, instantly losing his life.
…
Mu Nianci did not fully grasp Zhou Yan’s intentions, but she heard the Indian Monk speak of his medical skill. Zhou Yan pursued, and she placed the iron spear in her hand to shield the Divine Monk, while simultaneously using her spear to seal the breach in the wall.
The eight or nine men who suddenly attacked were aimed at the Monk from Shaolin of the Western Regions, but as Mu Nianci wielded her spear, it darted out like a snake’s tongue, tightly sealing the area within a two-zhang radius. The hall was spacious, but with nearly ten people fighting, it became cramped, making it difficult to maneuver. Mu Nianci was in danger but unharmed.
As some men rushed towards the entrance, lime was suddenly scattered. Then came flying knives and iron caltrops. The four Runners outside the inn guarded the door.
“Kill that Madam and the boy.” A shrewd-eyed big man lunged at Duan Zhaoxi. With a bang, the Profound Iron Heavy Spear pierced through from the other side of the wall, entering the big man’s ribs and pinning him.
Immediately after, the window shattered, and Zhou Yan landed before Madam Duan and the others, who were protected by the Runners. As he swept past, he drew the Qingfeng Sword from the table.
The longsword descended from above, its blade forming a fan-shaped radiance that fell upon a big man rushing towards the inn’s entrance, employing the “Hengshan Five Gods Sword.”
The big man saw overlapping sword shadows and layered cold edges within his line of sight. How could he dodge? With a light “snap,” the longsword struck the Tiantu Acupoint, part of the Yinwei Meridian within the man’s Extraordinary Meridians.
Zhou Yan used his sword to strike the acupoint. The big man felt a tingling sensation, his Inner Qi blocked, and he lost his balance, falling to the ground like a wooden post.
“This one is tough.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Several figures leaped up. Zhou Yan charged out, swinging his sword, conjuring a sky-shattering sharpness. Astonishing blood exploded in the air, and half a body fell.
Several people leaped to the second floor, but Zhou Yan’s figure solidified first. He was seen with his grey robe fluttering like surging clouds, his movements indistinguishable. Amidst the sound of tearing air, sword light danced like meteors streaking across the sky, incredibly fast.
Terrified screams erupted all around. The big men who had leaped to the second floor were smashed down.
On this side of the hall, Mu Nianci, with reduced pressure, pursued with her spear several times, stabbing two big men to the ground.
Outside the inn, Liang Xiaowu’s long saber whirled, sending large amounts of flesh and blood into the sky. His fierce slashes actually shattered the bones of the big men he fought.
The burly body of the man with a cracked chest flew out of the wall’s opening into the inn, crashing to the ground.
All the big men who had colluded with the Monk from the Vajra Sect, except for one who was acupunctured by Zhou Yan, met their demise.
The air was filled with a nauseating smell of blood. While Zhou Yan and the others were fighting, Madam Duan, Duan Zhaoxi, and the Maid did not feel anything. The fighting suddenly stopped.
Close to the three of them was the man pinned by the Profound Iron Heavy Spear, blood flowing from the spear shaft. A little further away was the man whose chest cavity had been split open by Liang Xiaowu.
The Maid cried out, her legs going weak, and she collapsed to the ground. Duan Zhaoxi bent over and vomited.
Madam Duan leaned on the table, her face ashen.
Zhou Yan, ignoring them, said to Liang Xiaowu, “Interrogate this person.”
“Got it.”
Liang Xiaowu called the Runners to clear the bodies. Zhou Yan leaped outside the inn to check the injuries of the Monk from Shaolin of the Western Regions. The Indian Monk followed, squatted down, and took the Monk’s pulse. Then, his brows furrowed, and he muttered to himself.
