Chapter 60: Hand Flicking the Pipa, Shattering Cinnabar

BOOM!!

The old madman had barely landed when he saw Chu Tianshu, one hand pressing on the bamboo pole, his body upright, descending from the sky.

Both men touched the ground almost simultaneously.

But the old madman took longer to land, moved slower, and thus had an easier time cushioning his impact.

He let out a low grunt and launched a rapid series of kicks.

The climate on Hengqindao was humid; the sand piled in this abandoned construction site, left unprotected, had already hardened due to moisture.

Yet as the old madman kicked, large clumps of sand shattered completely, each grain distinct, fanning outward like a spray.

The successive kicks sent up clouds of sand and dust, nearly obscuring his entire figure.

Chu Tianshu looked over and saw only a hazy yellow haze.

In ancient battlefield boxing styles, throwing lime, kicking sand, or shoveling mud were all common tactics.

Each school in the north and south had specialized techniques to generate force for such methods.

They focused on how to fling mud and sand faster, wider, and more effectively to blind opponents.

When masters clashed, they didn’t expect these substances to inflict real damage—they sought only to seize the initiative.

Whether the opponent dodged, closed his eyes, or swept away the debris with his aura, dealing with these intangible threats always left his movements awkward and half-hearted.

Not reacting was impossible; reacting meant walking into a trap.

But when Chu Tianshu saw the hazy yellow cloud, he didn’t blink—his lips merely twitched.

“Dou!!”

The character “Dou” from the Nine Character Mantra—his mental force released into the air.

A circular void tore through the thick yellow dust and sand.

Behind it, the old madman was exposed, his hair and beard whipped violently by the wind.

If he had tried to charge forward through the sand,

this mental force would have reversed the dust, blinding him instead.

But he was far away—nearly ten meters apart—and largely unaffected.

After kicking up the sand and dust, he merely took the opportunity to perform a series of motions: clacking his teeth, swinging his arms, and rotating his palms.

The Great Sage's Pi Gua Quan contained many techniques targeting the lower body.

The body crouched like a monkey, feet stomping and kicking, spinning the torso, whipping the arms, tearing at thigh muscles, pounding the groin, and more.

Even techniques where the fingertips gouged into the side of the knee to rip out a piece of the patella—all cruel, brutal killing moves.

But on the old madman, it seemed he had entirely forgotten those petty, underhanded tactics.

As he clacked his teeth, he pushed his palms outward; his lung’s breath surged into his palms, turning the skin there a deep crimson, spreading across the entire hand.

Both hands expanded by a full circle, glowing red like cinnabar, their skin texture shimmering with the luster of steel and jade.

This was an extraordinary phenomenon visible only when the Pi Gua Zhang was cultivated to an extreme level.

Ancient practitioners called this state the “Cinnabar Subduing Demon Palm,” believing that when the Pi Gua Zhang reached this level, it could subdue demons and quell evil.

A normal boxer who reached this stage, with such abundant qi and blood in his hands, could indeed scatter or erase a weak spirit with a single strike.

But the old madman’s condition was strange.

His palms reached this state not through pure human qi and blood, but because the malevolent energy surging in his chest saturated them.

These hands naturally had less restraining power against yin and evil entities than the true Cinnabar Palm cultivated through orthodox methods.

Yet the malevolent energy was tightly entwined with his original physical strength, fused with the madman’s own insane, extreme will, achieving a profound union of illusion and reality, yin and yang.

In terms of pure destructive power against physical objects,

Zhu Heng’s hands now were even more formidable.

The Venomous Snake Fist of the Western Poison Ouyang was cunning and poisonous, but his true ultimate technique, the Toad Power, was brutally forceful.

Whether intentional or not, his hands now truly carried the flavor of Toad Power.

“I still remember your needle technique—you used it specifically to break my Venomous Snake Array!”

Zhu Heng laughed loudly, “But my art has reached its peak—I no longer need the Venomous Snake Array. Your efforts were wasted.”

Chu Tianshu chuckled, his voice now fully his own.

“Old poisoner, have you ever considered whether you truly understand the Venomous Snake Array at all?”

Zhu Heng didn’t take the bait.

He didn’t ponder these pointless questions—instead, his entire body suddenly expanded before Chu Tianshu.

The movement was bizarre; there was no visible shift in his waist, back, or knees.

It was as if he had been shoved forward on an ice rink by some immense force, surging forward in a flash.

This was the “Barefoot Pi Gua Step” from the Great Sage's Pi Gua Quan.

It required the sole of the foot to spread like a palm, maximizing contact with the ground.

When moving forward, one barely needed to engage the hips or waist.

Power came solely from the coordinated push of heel, ball, and toes.

A single scrape of the foot below the ankle sent the entire body hurtling forward at high speed.

In truth, no human foot could ever be as agile as a hand; relying solely on the sole, advancing two or three meters was already extraordinary.

His leap covered nearly ten meters—achieved only by the malevolent energy he squeezed from his lungs.

Facing this bizarre lateral charge, Chu Tianshu seemed to have anticipated it—he suddenly flicked his left hand.

As the old madman charged, his right palm extended forward, his left hand coiled at his waist.

The right palm delivered a sudden, straight, ramming force.

Chu Tianshu’s flick sent his fingernail like the tip of a whip, cracking out a sharp sonic boom that struck precisely beneath the old madman’s right wrist.

Taiji’s Hand Flicking the Pipa, Tongbei’s Startling Whip Hand—merged into one!

The large tendon on the inner wrist shattered with the sound of a bowstring snapping.

The old madman’s pupils contracted—he heard the sound within his own body most clearly, as if a great drum had been shattered.

No matter how hard Zhu Heng’s palm was, forged like iron, it could not withstand this exquisitely precise strike—his right wrist tendon was severed.

His left hand swiftly swept out, a broad palm strike meant to force Chu Tianshu back.

In a flash, Chu Tianshu blocked with his right arm, hooked with his left, and seized the one intact arm, hurling the old madman sideways.

Chu Tianshu possessed inner and outer perception—he understood every detail of the battlefield.

The old madman’s attempt to launch a surprise attack with superior footwork had instead given Chu Tianshu the opening.

This throw sent him crashing directly into a steel rebar jutting out sideways.

Though he hadn’t seen the rebar, he sensed mortal danger—his chest violently trembled.

KLANG!!

His back slammed into the top of the rebar—but it did not pierce him; malevolent energy made his back glow faintly silver.

In that instant, Zhu Heng used his back and the rebar as a pivot, all four limbs moving in a storm of blows.

Normally, with the feet as a pivot, the limbs cannot fully unleash power.

Now, using his back as a pivot, he seized that brief second to attack with every limb.

The arm held by Chu Tianshu instantly lost much flesh, bleeding profusely as it broke free.

The other arm, with its severed tendon, lashed out directly with the forearm.

His legs struck with brutal force—knees shot out like boulders, shins swept like steel axes.

Chu Tianshu’s eyes widened fully, his hair lifting slightly as his power reached his extremities; his hands moved at maximum speed, flicking, striking, pressing down.

Within one second!

He used both hands to block every single attack.

The old madman’s limbs left afterimages like seven or eight crooked wooden stakes.

Chu Tianshu’s arms left afterimages like two full, curved arcs of color—appearing more resilient than his opponent’s.

In truth, this was simply a more extreme manifestation of speed.

One second later, Chu Tianshu’s palm struck the old madman squarely on the chest.

DONG DONG DONG DONG DONG!!

With the first palm strike, the old madman’s entire body trembled—followed by seven or eight rapid consecutive blows.

Zhu Heng’s torso was finally pierced by the rebar—a bloody section of steel protruded from his chest.

Chu Tianshu instantly retracted his hand, shaking his palm.

He nearly felt as if he had just struck a thousand-pound bronze bell—his muscles could endure the force, but his bones ached from the vibration, his knuckles tingling and numb.

Fortunately, although Zhu Heng could exert enough force to bend the rebar,

by hardening his back alone, his physical strength could not maintain a level superior to threaded steel indefinitely.

“How is this possible?”

Zhu Heng’s eyes were dazed; he spat out a thick stream of black-red blood, darkening his hospital gown.

“I’ve already recognized myself… Even if I didn’t win, at least we should have fought for three days and three nights.”

Chu Tianshu had truly enjoyed the fight—he replied simply:

“You’re truly confused. We’re both flesh and blood. Even if evenly matched, a single slip can separate life from death!”

Zhu Heng’s eyes glinted with malice; suddenly, he raised his left hand and slapped his own face.

PUFF!!

He spat out a mist of blood.

Chu Tianshu sidestepped, and from nearby, the concrete mixer let out a hollow, resonant boom.

Several teeth were embedded in the mixer’s casing.

That sound was like a death knell.

“Who said I’m foolish?”

After spitting that out, Zhu Heng’s face turned deathly pale; he let out a bitter laugh. “I understand perfectly—I regret what I did back then, so this time, it’s my son who wants me to win; I must win for him…”

“Your son?”

Chu Tianshu’s gaze flickered, and he fired off questions in rapid succession: “He’s in the northeast direction, isn’t he? First floor? Second floor? Third floor?”

Zhu Heng’s expression changed.

Chu Tianshu guessed roughly: “Third floor.”

Zhu Heng snarled: “You—”

Chu Tianshu sighed softly, then pressed two fingers against his chest.

“Lin Bing Dou Zhe, Jie Zhen Lie Qian Xing!”

Chu Tianshu chanted the incantation seriously, shattering the weakened malevolent spirit, and spoke his final words to the dazed old madman.

“You woke up too late. Go down and confess to the one you truly owe an apology to!”

(End of Chapter)