Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils: The Successor of Bodhidharma

Page 34

Then, he slightly changed the subject, his tone still calm, but with an added determination of a seeker of the truth:

"I have been a Buddhist since childhood. While I have devoted myself to the Dharma, I have also had some interest in exploring the subtle aspects of martial arts. I have long heard that Shaolin Temple in China is the ancestral home of Zen Buddhism and a sacred place of martial arts. It possesses seventy-two unique skills, each of which is profound and contains the supreme Buddhist teachings. It has been renowned throughout the world for hundreds of years. I have long yearned to visit it."

He paused slightly, his eyes brightening with a light that blended humility and confidence:

"It is often said that Buddhist principles require debate to gain clarity, and martial arts require verification to reveal their true nature. Today, we are fortunate to have such a gathering of heroes from all over the world, a truly serendipitous occasion. This humble monk, though unworthy, wishes to emulate the ancients' 'showing off one's skill before an expert,' and instead seek instruction from the esteemed monks of Shaolin Temple regarding the Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin. I hope this will add to the festivities of this grand event. I wonder if Abbot Xuanci and the other esteemed monks would be so kind as to grant this humble monk's wish to pursue the Way?"

As soon as Kumārajīva uttered these words, the vast Shaoshi Mountain Square fell silent for a moment, and then erupted into an unbelievable uproar!

"What? Possessing seventy-two unique skills? Has this Tibetan monk gone mad?"

"Arrogant! Utterly arrogant! Each of the seventy-two Shaolin arts requires a lifetime of dedication to master, yet he dares to make such a boast?"

"Judging from his dignified appearance, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would resort to empty threats. Could it be..."

Not only were the assembled heroes horrified, but even the Shaolin monks, initially astonished, were now filled with deep doubt and anger. Master Xuannan, the head of the Bodhidharma Academy, known for his fiery temper, could no longer contain himself. He stepped forward abruptly, his voice booming like thunder:

"Amitabha! Your Majesty's words are excessive! The Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin were created by Bodhidharma and eminent monks throughout history. They are profound and extensive, and their techniques and methods differ greatly, even countering each other. Let alone mastering them all, even being proficient in just three or five of them is a rare talent, one that appears only once in a hundred years! Although Your Majesty is a high-ranking monk from Tibet, such arrogant words make you think nothing of Shaolin's thousand-year-old martial arts!"

Faced with the doubts, Kumārajīva showed no anger, but instead smiled slightly, a smile that carried absolute confidence and a hint of pity, as if he were looking at a dullard who could not understand Buddhism. He turned his gaze to Xuannan, put his palms together, and said, "Amitabha, since Master Xuannan does not believe, this humble monk is willing to use my meager skills to learn a thing or two from you. How about I use your most proficient weapon—the Great Vajra Pestle?"

Xuan Nan's pupils contracted. He had studied the Great Vajra Pestle for decades and had already reached a state of perfection. How dare this Tibetan monk name him and challenge him to a contest based on this skill? Without replying, he shouted, "Very well! Then let this old monk experience the profound 'Vajra Pestle' of the Bright King!"

Before he finished speaking, Xuan Nan's monk robes fluttered without wind, and his bones crackled and popped. His originally lean body seemed to expand instantly. He raised his right arm, his fingers forming a pestle, and unleashed a powerful and unparalleled force, strong enough to split mountains and shatter rocks, towards Kumārajīva from afar! It was the opening stance of the Great Vajra Pestle—Vajra Offering the Pestle! The strong wind howled, scraping his face like a knife, demonstrating Xuan Nan's decades of profound mastery of this skill.

Upon seeing this, all the heroes held their breath, thinking that this arrogant foreign monk was likely to die on the spot!

However, Kumārajīva, facing this thunderous attack, neither dodged nor evaded. He also raised his right hand, joined his index and middle fingers together, and formed a pestle seal identical to that of Xuannan. He then gently touched the surging energy!

"Om-!"

A strange, muffled sound rang out, not a deafening explosion, but a deep resonance like the tolling of a giant bell. The force emanating from Kumārajīva's fingertips arrived first, its power and purity identical to Xuannan's, but its flow was more concentrated and refined, as if all unnecessary losses had been eliminated, directly targeting the very source of "power and ferocity"!

Two forces of the same origin but different nature collided in the air. Xuan Nan felt a more refined and pure force surge back, which forced his decades of hard-earned skill to pause slightly. He took two steps back before he could dissipate the force, and his face was filled with horror!

"You...how could you possess my Shaolin's authentic Weituo Pestle?! And..."

Kumārajīva stood with his fingers tucked in, his countenance solemn: "The Buddha's teachings are boundless, and so are martial arts. Master, you flatter me."

Xuan Nan's face turned pale and then red. As the head of the Bodhidharma Academy, he had been defeated in a single move, and in his most prized martial art no less! This was simply unbelievable!

"Amitabha." A Buddhist chant rang out, and the law enforcement elder, Master Xuanku, slowly stepped forward. His face was filled with compassion, but his eyes were unwavering. "The Ming King's martial arts are divine, and I admire him greatly. I am not talented enough, but I am willing to learn from the Ming King again using the Prajna Palm."

Xuan Ku's Prajna Palm technique is second only to Abbot Xuan Ci in Shaolin Temple. Its power is contained within, and its compassion contains the great power to subdue demons. He circles his palms, creating multiple palm shadows, like the Thousand-Armed Guanyin, enveloping Kumārajīva. His palm power is like a spring breeze and rain, penetrating everywhere, yet carrying a firm will to save all beings.

Kumārajīva initially countered with equally exquisite Prajñā Palm techniques. The two exchanged palm strikes, their energies intertwining, seemingly evenly matched. However, Xuanku's palm techniques were smooth, seasoned, and had a long-lasting impact. After several dozen moves, Kumārajīva gradually felt the pressure, as Xuanku seemed to have subtly restrained the variations in his palm techniques.

Unable to gain the upper hand after a prolonged assault, a flicker of impatience crossed Kumārajīva's eyes, quickly replaced by a fierce glint. He abruptly changed his attack, his finger techniques becoming ethereal and ever-changing—the Formless Finger of Calamity! Simultaneously, he loudly recited the essence of the Buddhist scripture taught by Xuancheng, corresponding to this finger technique:

"All appearances are false. If you see that all appearances are not appearances, you will see the Tathagata!"

As soon as the scripture was recited, the power of the Formless Calamity Finger at his fingertips seemed to be infused with a soul, becoming even more illusory and unpredictable. The finger power weaved through Xuan Ku's Prajna palm shadow, finding an opening and forcing Xuan Ku to turn his palm back to defend himself!

Before Xuanku could catch his breath, Kumārajīva changed his move again, his palm turning crimson as he slashed through the air, the Flaming Blade reappearing! Blazing blade energy crisscrossed, and the scriptures he uttered changed accordingly:

"A single thought of anger opens a million doors of obstacles! Yet, even the Vajra has a wrathful gaze, solely to subdue the four demons!"

This chanting, imbued with Buddhist principles, seemed to smooth out the slight stagnation in the flow of true energy from his various unique skills, adding a touch of Buddhist righteousness and majesty to the scorching ferocity of the Flaming Blade, thus increasing its power!

Immediately afterwards, he effortlessly displayed a variety of amazing skills, such as the Flower-Picking Finger, the Tara Leaf Finger, and the Indra Claw, and for each move, he accompanied it with the corresponding Buddhist mantra!

"All phenomena arise from causes and conditions; the Tathagata explains this as the cause..."

"All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows..."

As he attacked rapidly, he chanted mantras, his moves perfectly synchronized with the scriptures, as if he were not engaging in a martial arts contest, but rather conducting a grand demonstration of Buddhist teachings! The exquisite techniques, coupled with the Buddhist principles that pointed directly to the origin of martial arts, left all the martial arts heroes in the audience dumbfounded, their minds captivated! Even Abbot Xuanci and other high-ranking monks of Shaolin Temple showed extreme shock on their faces. They had devoted their lives to studying Buddhist martial arts and had never imagined that martial arts could be performed in such a way!

Under such a bizarre and powerful offensive, Xuan Ku could only push his Prajna Palm to its limit and struggle to hold on, but signs of defeat were already emerging!

Just as Xuanku was about to be defeated, and the entire audience was stunned by Kumārajīva's miraculous skills, a slightly flustered yet somewhat simple-minded voice suddenly rang out from the back of the Shaolin Temple's guest monks:

"This... Master, you... you're doing it wrong."

The sound wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of the experts on the field.

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw a young monk, dressed in a coarse robe, with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and upturned nostrils—a rather ugly appearance—standing there helplessly, his face full of genuine confusion. He scratched his bald head, looked at Kumārajīva, and added:

"You forcefully use Buddhist teachings to stimulate foreign true energy. It may seem smooth, but it is actually like drinking poison to quench thirst. The further you are from Buddhist teachings, the closer you are to the demonic path."

This ugly monk was none other than Xu Zhu.

Chapter 111 Qiao Feng of the North, truly lives up to his reputation.

"This... Master, you... you're doing it wrong."

"You forcefully use Buddhist teachings to stimulate foreign true energy. It may seem smooth, but it is actually like drinking poison to quench thirst. The further you are from Buddhist teachings, the closer you are to the demonic path."

Kumārajīva was in high spirits, enjoying the spotlight and the thrill of overpowering Shaolin, when he heard this, it was as if he had been doused with cold water. His brows furrowed instantly, and his sharp gaze slashed at Xuzhu like a knife: "Oh? This humble monk is doing it wrong? Little monk, tell me, what's wrong with it?" His tone was now filled with a chilling intent.

Xu Zhu became even more nervous under his gaze, lowered his head, and stammered, "This humble monk...this humble monk can't say for sure either. I just feel that, Master, when you forcefully use Buddhist mantras to activate the...um...those different true energies in your body, it seems to be flowing smoothly, but...but it's getting further and further away from the balance and harmony of Buddhism, it's more like...like you're about to fall into demonic possession."

"Arrogant brat! How dare you spout nonsense and disturb my meditation!" Kumārajīva shouted sternly, his voice distorted with extreme anger. "Since you speak so arrogantly, you must possess extraordinary skills! Come, let this humble monk experience your profound Buddhist teachings!"

Xu Zhu was so frightened that he waved his hands repeatedly, shaking his head like a rattle drum: "No, no, no! Master, you misunderstand! This humble monk does not practice martial arts. This humble monk is just a menial monk who sweeps the courtyard of the Sutra Pavilion and occasionally helps with planting vegetables and carrying water. I really only know some... some very basic introductory skills, just for strengthening the body."

The more he refused, the more it seemed to Kumārajīva and the others that he was deliberately humiliating them. Kumārajīva's anger had reached its peak, and his reason was consumed by the burning shame and indignation.

"Outrageous! Take this!"

Kumārajīva could no longer contain himself. With a roar, he moved like lightning and pounced on Xuzhu! In his rage, he no longer cared about the dignity of a national preceptor and was determined to kill this ugly monk who had embarrassed him on the spot!

His fingers flashed across the sky like a thousand flowers blooming; this was the "Doro Leaf Finger," one of the Seventy-Two Ultimate Skills, renowned for its complexity and ferocity, designed to envelop Xu Zhu's major acupoints.

Xu Zhu had never seen such exquisite and terrifying martial arts before. He was so frightened that his soul almost left his body, and his mind went blank. He instinctively put his palms together and bowed in the direction from which Kumārajīva was rushing—it was the most basic Shaolin Temple move, the "Child Worshipping Buddha".

However, the pure internal energy within him sensed the threat from the external force and naturally moved accordingly, forming an invisible yet incredibly strong and solid wall of energy in front of him.

With a barely perceptible sound, Kumārajīva's powerful Taropa finger technique, capable of piercing through metal and stone, struck the wall of energy, but vanished without a trace, like a mud ox sinking into the sea, without even causing a ripple.

"What happened? Where did the Imperial Advisor's countless finger shadows go?"

"That ugly monk... just bowed once?"

"This is bizarre! Absolutely bizarre!"

Kumārajīva's pupils contracted, his heart filled with unbearable horror. But he refused to believe it, changing his fingers into a palm, the palm force layered upon layer, like surging waves, containing the power to shatter mountains, it was the exquisite move of the [Prajñā Palm], and he struck at Xuzhu.

When Xu Zhu saw the palm coming, he panicked even more and could only clumsily jump backward. In his desperation, he hurriedly raised his leg to block—but it was the most rudimentary "Iron Threshold" that even lay disciples might not take seriously.

He could channel his internal energy into his legs and feet. This lift, though seemingly clumsy, was as steady as a rock, and a powerful and unparalleled counterforce surged forth!

When Kumārajīva struck Xuzhu's leg with his palm, he felt as if he had struck an ancient mountain! An irresistible force rebounded, making his arm numb and his chest churn. He staggered back several steps before barely managing to regain his footing, his face filled with horror and disbelief!

"What...what kind of sorcery are you using?!" Kumārajīva exclaimed in shock and anger, his voice trembling.

Xu Zhu lowered his leg, still looking innocent and frightened: "This humble monk...this humble monk really only knows the basics. The Buddhist scriptures say: 'One should abide nowhere and yet give rise to the mind.' Master, your moves are too...too complicated. You're too attached to appearances, too attached to appearances..."

Xu Zhu then launched into another lecture to Kumārajīva! "One should abide nowhere and yet give rise to the mind!" Like a sudden blow to the head, it struck Kumārajīva's heart once again!

Shame, anger, and horror intertwined, and a hint of malice flashed in Kumārajīva's eyes. He forcibly suppressed his surging blood and forced a smile, putting his palms together and saying, "Amitabha, little master is indeed...deeply hidden. This humble monk...admires you."

As he spoke, he took a few steps forward, seemingly respectfully, as if to bow and admit defeat. However, the instant he approached Xu Zhu and leaned forward, a fierce glint appeared in his eyes! His right hand, hidden in his sleeve, suddenly shot out, his index and middle fingers joined together, gathering all the power he could muster at that moment, transforming into the most ferocious [Formless Calamity Finger], silently and directly stabbing at Xu Zhu's chest's Tanzhong acupoint! This sneak attack was insidious, vicious, and as fast as lightning, determined to cripple Xu Zhu!

Qiao Feng, who had been watching the scene closely, had become wary as soon as Kumārajīva's expression changed. Now, seeing him resort to such a despicable sneak attack, he was enraged!

The sound was heard, and the person arrived!

Everyone only saw a blur before their eyes, and a powerful, mountain-like figure swept between the two like a whirlwind! It was Qiao Feng!

Without a second thought or the slightest fear, he raised his right palm and unleashed an overwhelming force—the most righteous and powerful move in the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms—[Dragon Appearing in the Field]! This palm strike was designed for protection, its power was immense, and it struck first despite being delayed, just barely meeting Kumārajīva's insidious and vicious Formless Finger of Calamity!

"boom--!!!"

A deafening roar, far more muffled and deafening than any previous encounter, exploded out!

Two incredibly powerful internal forces clashed violently, and the shockwaves swept wildly in all directions as if they were tangible! The bluestone slabs beneath their feet could not withstand this terrifying force and cracked inch by inch. Then, with a "bang," they exploded, and countless fragments of stone shot out in all directions like hidden weapons, startling the people nearby who cried out and retreated. Dust filled half of the square!

As the dust settled, Qiao Feng swayed slightly before regaining his balance, his tiger-like eyes blazing with fury as he glared at Kumārajīva. Kumārajīva, on the other hand, stumbled back three steps, an unnatural flush rising to his face. A sweet taste rose in his throat, and a mouthful of blood welled up in his mouth, but he swallowed it back down with a vengeance. He felt as if his internal organs had shifted, and he was horrified: "This Qiao Feng, his internal energy is so domineering!"

Everyone was stunned by the sudden turn of events and Qiao Feng's earth-shattering palm strike.

In this eerie silence, Kumārajīva suppressed his surging blood and qi, took a deep breath, and concealed his slightly trembling hand behind his back, his palm clenched tightly in pain and anger, his knuckles white. In an instant, however, his face regained its dignified, arrogant expression, as if he himself had not been the one who had failed in his sneak attack and been forced back. He raised his head high, his voice strained to remain loud, and addressed Qiao Feng:

"Chief Qiao's skills are profound and unfathomable, truly formidable! This humble monk is fortunate to have witnessed Chief Qiao's unparalleled prowess today; it is a great joy in my life!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, and with an air of arrogance that said, "I've already proven it," he declared emphatically:

"Qiao Feng of the North truly lives up to his reputation! There are few in the world who can fight this humble monk to a draw! Chief Qiao, you are one of them!"

He spoke these words without batting an eye, as if the embarrassing scene from just moments ago had never happened. He bowed respectfully to Qiao Feng, then turned and strode quickly toward his magnificent sedan chair. His steps appeared composed, but upon closer inspection, they were noticeably more hurried than usual.

Upon arriving at the sedan chair, a Tibetan warrior was offering a freshly roasted, plump chicken inside. Kumārajīva swiftly slipped inside.

The sedan curtains fell, cutting off the view from the outside world. Kumārajīva could no longer hold on; the mouthful of blood he had been suppressing suddenly spurted out with a "plop," staining the sedan's luxurious carpet red. His face instantly turned deathly pale, and his breathing became erratic.

Xuancheng, who was happily munching on a roast chicken with his mouth full of oil, was startled by him. He put down the chicken leg, stared with wide, round eyes, and asked indistinctly, "Xiaozhi? What's wrong? Who did something to you?!"

Kumārajīva hurriedly covered his mouth with one hand, and put his index finger to his lips with the other, making a "shush" gesture. His face was full of anxiety and pleading as he said urgently in a very low voice, "Shh—! Shh—! Senior, keep your voice down! Keep your voice down! Everyone outside is listening! I...I'm fine, it's just...it's just that my blood and qi are a little out of balance..."

Xuan Cheng looked at the bloodstains at the corner of his mouth and his pale face. Although he was insane, he understood a bit. He immediately flew into a rage, flung away Kumārajīva's hand, and his voice was like thunder, not caring whether he was quiet or not:

"Damn it! Which bastard dared to hurt my Xiaozhi?! Does he think I'm a dead man?! Just wait! I'll beat him up for you!"

Before the words were even finished, Xuan Cheng's disheveled and unrestrained figure burst out of the sedan chair like a storm! A terrifying aura, far wilder and more unfathomable than that of Kumārajīva, instantly enveloped the entire Shaoshi Mountain Square!

Chapter 112 Xie Xiaoyu Protects Qiao Feng

On Shaoshi Mountain Square, the aftershocks of that earth-shattering palm strike still seemed to reverberate in the air, and the dust it kicked up had not yet completely settled. Everyone was still immersed in the shock brought about by Qiao Feng's overwhelming palm force and Kumārajīva's despicable sneak attack.

"Amitabha." Abbot Xuanci of Shaolin Temple slowly turned around and looked at Master Xuanku, whose face was still slightly pale. His tone was filled with undisguised amazement. "Junior brother, Chief Wang Jiantong and I were close friends. I am very familiar with his Twenty-Eight Subduing Dragon Palms. Just now, Chief Qiao's palm technique was even more powerful and fierce, and its smooth and varied movements surpassed his master. It far surpasses the late Brother Wang! This boy... is truly remarkable."

Master Xuanku looked at the proud and muscular figure standing in the arena, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He put his palms together and said, "What Abbot Brother said is absolutely right. Feng'er's palm technique has reached the pinnacle. It is controlled with ease, possessing the unparalleled domineering power to break through all techniques with one force, while also retaining subtle variations. It is no exaggeration to say that his palm technique is the best in the world."

Not far away, Murong Fu's eyes were as cold and solemn as ice. He had personally experienced the power of Kumārajīva and knew how extraordinary his martial arts were. However, Qiao Feng had actually struck first after being caught off guard, knocking Kumārajīva back with a single palm strike. This skill set alarm bells rang in Murong Fu's mind, and an unprecedented sense of urgency gripped his heart.

Wang Yuyan, standing beside him, said softly, "Chief Qiao is indeed formidable. His palm technique... has already acquired the power to subdue dragons, boundless and limitless. Even... even if one could see through his next move, there are probably very few people in the world who could withstand a single palm strike from Chief Qiao." Her words were filled with pure martial arts appreciation, yet she could not hide the trace of shock she felt.

Upon hearing this, A Zhu's gaze involuntarily turned once again to the imposing figure in the arena, a man of great courage and integrity who seemed capable of shouldering even the heavens and the earth. She felt as if her heart had been struck by a heavy drum, and her cheeks instantly flushed red. She quickly lowered her head, not daring to look any longer.

Duan Yu was also filled with emotion, and said to his parents beside him, "Father, Mother, that foreign monk is so despicable! Master Xuzhu kindly advised him, but he secretly attacked him! Fortunately, Chief Qiao came to his aid... The name of Qiao Feng of the North is indeed well-deserved!" Prince Zhennan, Duan Zhengchun, had a solemn expression and nodded slightly, expressing his approval of Qiao Feng's martial arts and character.

In the arena, Xu Zhu, still shaken, quickly stepped forward and bowed deeply to Qiao Feng, saying gratefully, "Thank you so much, Chief Qiao, for saving me! This humble monk...this humble monk..."

Qiao Feng stretched out his hand, steadily supporting Xu Zhu's kneeling posture. He laughed heartily, his voice booming like a bell: "Little Master, there's no need for such formality! When you see injustice on the road, you should naturally step in. Besides, that foreign monk's behavior was despicable; how could I, Qiao, sit idly by?" His gaze was sharp as lightning, looking at Xu Zhu with a hint of inquiry. "As for you, Little Master, you possess unparalleled divine skills. The depth of your inner strength and the simplicity of your moves are something I have never seen before in my life."

Upon hearing this, Xu Zhu hurriedly waved his hand, looking embarrassed: "Chief Qiao, you flatter me! This humble monk really doesn't know any martial arts! This... this is just a characteristic of the technique passed down by my master, which can protect its master in times of crisis and has the ability to block enemies with a qi barrier. It is not something this humble monk did intentionally, let alone any peerless divine skill..." His tone was sincere, not like he was faking it, which made Qiao Feng even more surprised.

Just then, a furious roar, like that of a wounded beast, suddenly rang out from the direction of the magnificent palanquin of the Tibetan National Preceptor!

"Which bastard dares to hurt my Xiaozhi? Does he think I'm a dead man?!"

Before the words had even finished, a disheveled, crazed figure shot out of the sedan chair like a ghost. Its speed was so extreme that most people present only saw a blur before the figure, carrying an overwhelming and terrifying momentum, hurtled straight at Qiao Feng! Wherever it passed, the air seemed to be torn apart, emitting a sharp whistling sound!

"Watch out, boss!"

Xie Xiaoyu, who had been standing beside Qiao Feng, reacted with lightning speed! Almost the instant the figure moved, he stepped forward, blocking Qiao Feng from the approaching enemy without hesitation! Facing this unprecedentedly powerful foe, Xie Xiaoyu's inner energy erupted, and a faint golden light seemed to emanate from beneath his bronze skin, pushing his external martial arts to its peak! Without dodging or evading, he concentrated all his strength and unleashed a fierce and ruthless Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms, filled with a tragic aura, directly at the blurry figure!

"Bam—!"

Another dull, thunderous thud, like the sound of leather being struck!

Xie Xiaoyu felt an indescribable force surge towards him like a tsunami. His Dragon Subduing Palm, powerful enough to split rocks and shatter stone, was instantly thrown back as if it had crashed into an invisible yet indestructible iron wall! He felt a sweet taste in his throat, his blood and qi churned wildly, and he stumbled back seven or eight steps, each step leaving deep footprints on the bluestone slab. His face turned deathly pale!

Qiao Feng reacted swiftly, extending his arm to firmly support Xie Xiaoyu's back. A surge of pure, vast, and supremely yang Nine Yang True Qi quietly flowed into him, helping to calm his turbulent blood and qi. Qiao Feng's tiger-like eyes blazed with fury. He abruptly looked up at the suddenly stopped, crazed figure, his voice booming like thunder, echoing throughout the entire area:

His shout, seemingly carrying the might of a dragon's roar, made people's eardrums buzz.

"Without distinguishing right from wrong, you suddenly attacked Brother Qiao! What kind of logic is this?! If you want to settle scores with me, then lay down the law, and I, Qiao Feng, will accept it! Such sneak attacks and ambushes are hardly the behavior of a hero!"

He stood firmly in the center, his figure as upright as a pine tree. Facing this formidable enemy with unfathomable power, he showed no fear whatsoever. On the contrary, his heroic and domineering spirit grew even stronger, like an indomitable war god! This courage and sense of responsibility impressed countless heroes present!

Xuan Cheng, with his disheveled hair, was taken aback by Qiao Feng's thunderous shout. He scratched his messy hair, pointed at Qiao Feng, and roared angrily, "Reason? I am the reason! You hurt my Xiao Zhi, so I'll beat you up! It's only right! Enough nonsense, take this!"

His thinking was simple and direct. Once he was convinced that Qiao Feng had injured Kumārajīva, he was determined to stand up for "his own Kumārajīva".

However, just as Xuan Cheng was about to pounce again, Qiao Feng focused his gaze and clearly saw his frantic yet still discernible features, and the tattered yet still Shaolin-style monk's robe. A long-forgotten name, accompanied by immense shock, suddenly surged into his heart! He couldn't help but blurt it out, his voice filled with disbelief and astonishment:

"Wait! You...you are...Master Uncle Xuancheng?!"

The four words "Uncle-Master Xuancheng" struck the Shaoshi Mountain Square like four thunderbolts from the heavens!

The heroes, who had just recovered from the duel between Qiao Feng and Kumārajīva, were once again plunged into a huge shock and stunned silence!

That person is known as the number one martial artist in Shaolin Temple in two hundred years.