Chapter 104: The Same Technique Won

Even though everyone follows the same curriculum, differences in affinity, personality, and talent mean each person in Beidou has their own most skilled and mastered technique.

For the benevolent Duo Qi, his favorite is—the “Beidou Compassionate Shatter-Face Fist,” which kills opponents without pain.

For the domineering Lei Chan, his beloved technique is—the “Beidou Mighty Palm Wave,” which reduces enemies to ash.

Even the young Ken Shi Lang has his own signature move: the “Beidou Hundred Crack Fist,” an art he wields with masterful precision.

Yet now, the three panting men, bare-chested and caked in dust, all stared at Jia Ji with deep shock and awe.

“Jia Ji, you learned our fist techniques right in the middle of battle?!”

Duo Qi’s purest Friendship Shatter-Face Impact Wave, even without targeting the secret acupoints, still carried overwhelming power capable of splitting metal and shattering stone—but Jia Ji was no longer the man he once was.

After he effortlessly dodged it.

The next instant, an almost identical aura strike surged toward them, differing only in the faint hue of its energy—and this time, the target was Duo Qi.

This, of course, was Jia Ji’s unleashed “Beidou Compassionate Shatter-Face Fist” (though he preferred calling it “Beidou Your Uncle Mantis Fist”).

Replicating their moves one by one—countering “Mighty Palm” with “Mighty Palm,” and “Hundred Crack” with “Hundred Crack”—Jia Ji finally felt satisfied.

The senior brothers who once nearly defeated him with all their strength now bowed before his fists—this feeling was damn satisfying.

“This is the art known as ‘Water Shadow Heart.’ The same technique cannot be used against me a second time.”

Jia Ji did not withhold his knowledge, explaining the principle in detail. Though this secret art was difficult to learn and articulate, had he not received the prior generation’s direct transmission, mastering it would have taken him immense effort.

But Lei Chan and the others possessed extraordinary insight—he believed that once he explained it clearly, they would grasp it quickly.

As for the rule that only legitimate heirs may learn it?

“If Master Long Fist finds out, tell him the Beidou ancestors did it too.” Jia Ji waved his hand dismissively.

His brothers’ strength was his strength; the stronger they became, the stronger he became. If he didn’t give them a little shock and boost, they’d fall further behind his status as a cheat who crossed into another world.

He dared to boast he’d smash a nuclear bomb within three years—he wasn’t speaking without basis.

As brothers from the same Beidou lineage, deeply familiar with each other’s arts, learning their ultimate techniques was ten times, even nine times easier for Jia Ji than replicating Sai Ao Sha’s Phoenix Fist art.

Still, from today onward, the four brothers of this sect would all evolve into noble martial artists defending their fist technique patents (big lie).

“Let’s go, let’s head back! I just remembered I still have some things to do.”

Jia Ji cheerfully called to the three others, also bare-chested and shirtless—but with foresight, he had borrowed Duo Qi’s coat, so he alone was now decently dressed.

“This is indecent! If you stay any longer, won’t you fear being pointed at by passersby?”

Standing morally upright and condemning them, the true culprit Jia Ji fled toward the mountain gate before the three could swarm and beat him.

Though their original goal—to descend and indulge in a feast—remained unfulfilled.

…………

“Xiu Wu! You haven’t left yet!”

The Nan Dou White Heron Fist heir, suddenly feeling a tap on his shoulder, startled—then heard a voice full of delight.

Xiu Wu spun around instantly, muscles taut, fingers closing silently, stepping sharply sideways to put himself at a safer distance—only then assuming a combat stance…

His peripheral vision flickered.

Jia Ji?

The man before him was Jia Ji, who had just left moments ago—but aside from Jia Ji’s voice, Xiu Wu had sensed absolutely nothing of his approach.

Was he really this powerful?

In Xiu Wu’s memory—well, he had almost no impression of Jia Ji at all, having met him only once during the Nan Dou Ten-Man Gathering, never having personally witnessed his martial skill.

“Uh…”

“No time for words—let me test your Nan Dou White Heron Fist!”

Jia Ji had rushed back for this very reason—he’d forgotten to use “Water Shadow Heart” to replicate Xiu Wu’s fist art.

Xiu Wu stared at Jia Ji, whose entire body was riddled with openings. He claimed he wanted to “test” it, yet showed no sign of preparation.

How arrogant!

“Hmph.”

Earlier, Nan Dou had been in the wrong, so Xiu Wu had tolerated being ordered around—but now, with Jia Ji provoking him directly, even Xiu Wu’s gentle nature could no longer endure.

After all, martial artists are, by nature, all skilled in combat. As the Nan Dou Benevolent Star, Xiu Wu oversaw multiple branches and minor sects—he had his own dignity.

His slender, agile body transformed into a predatory white heron, the air compressing violently and whipping his hair into disarray as his sharp, straight legs sliced down from above.

Crossing several meters, he unleashed a foot-blade kick.

Swish!

Like a bolt of lightning tearing through space, it cleaved the thick air with impossible speed—gone in an instant, leaving behind a massive, centipede-shaped scar across the shattered ground.

“Good! Good! Good!” Seeing this ferocious technique, capable of splitting a man in two, Jia Ji’s eyes lit up with delight as he charged forward.

But soon, a furious shout rang out: “Why are you only dodging and not countering?!”

“Excellent. Truly fine fist art,” Jia Ji replied evasively, letting Xiu Wu’s storm-like assault rain down upon him—dodging, never attacking, dancing on the edge of the blade.

Though the Nan Dou White Heron Fist bears the word “fist,” its agility and fluidity far surpass ordinary styles—it is, in truth, a footwork-based art.

Though angry and irritated, Jia Ji sensed no killing intent in Xiu Wu’s attacks—only a desire to teach him a lesson. Still, as material for replication, it was more than sufficient.

The air roared in violent spirals, dust and leaves swirling upward—then, in the split second before the blow landed, Jia Ji’s right hand moved like a fool rushing into a trap, meeting Xiu Wu’s downward slash, halted just short of completion.

“Boom!”

He seized it—and instantly absorbed it.

Jia Ji’s hand, wrapped in terrifyingly dense aura, still stung from the impact—but suffered no injury.

He surged forward with force, using momentum to swing Xiu Wu bodily into the ground, smashing a human-shaped crater into the already pulverized mountain path.

“Not bad.”

Your fist art is mine now!

(End of Chapter)