Chapter 138

Guo Jing's palm strike was like a flying mountain, indeed the martial arts' supreme skill, the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.

Feng Yi's technique suddenly changed, turning a grab into a finger flick aimed at his palm's Laogong point—this was the Finger Flick Divine Ability.

Guo Jing's heart slightly tightened: 'After not seeing him for several months, he has actually cultivated the Finger Flick Divine Ability to this extent.'

The Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms and the Finger Flick Divine Ability each had their own strengths, were equally renowned in the world, and originally there was no superiority or inferiority; however, the palm's power, being mighty and strong, naturally prevailed. Yet in agile changes directly targeting vital points, the finger technique holds the advantage—this is a natural principle.

Guo Jing circled his right arm and struck out with his left palm; Feng Yi slightly moved his fingers, and the point of his flick was again Guo Jing's wrist vital point.

Guo Jing could turn his palm to the proper position and make a suitable attack, seemingly anticipating the enemy's move first; yet Feng Yi's fingers trembled, also without bias, pointing straight at where Guo Jing's palm would strike.

The two struck out as fast as lightning, exchanging several moves in an instant, with palm and finger never making contact; even the onlookers felt no gust of wind.

To laypeople, the exchange of palm and finger seemed like playing a drinking game; however, any master understood that the two were now within arm's reach, and every technique they used was an extraordinarily exquisite art.

Their strength was entirely condensed in their fingers and palms, with not a trace leaking out; yet once it landed on a body, it meant either death or injury—truly a rare sight in the martial world.

Feng Yi and Guo Jing previously opened their hearts fully, telling each other everything they had learned. Thus each of their methods was clear as day; now, in their clash, what they see is anticipating the opponent's move and displaying their skills in actual combat.

Feng Yi moved like the wind and also employed the Shadowless Divine Fist, his fists flying like meteors, the real and illusory hard to predict; yet he did not expect that, when he fought the Golden Wheel Dharma King, Guo Jing had been watching from the sidelines, and afterward he had also studied this fist technique in depth.

Guo Jing practiced the Quanzhen Sect's superior internal energy and also cultivated the Nine Yin Divine Art for twenty years; his internal strength was indeed supreme in the world, and after repeated contemplation, he understood most of the subtleties in fist techniques.

At this moment, seeing Feng Yi employ this fist technique, he thought: 'He is wholeheartedly resisting the Mongols, but the territories of Mongolia and the Great Song are already intermingled—you have me, I have you. If he were to create a plague as he wishes, it would surely bring suffering to all living beings; how could countless common people find peace?'

Even if it meant being blamed by him afterward, he unleashed his moves without mercy, his internal energy surging forth like thunder and lightning.

The Shadowless Divine Fist excels in swift and graceful movement, but when facing the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, Feng Yi felt restrained everywhere, his force sluggish and difficult; each time he tried to exert force, he felt opposing force piling up like mountains, his own force blocked and unable to advance, making it hard to penetrate.

Guo Jing shouted, 'Be careful!' and struck out with his left palm. Feng Yi dared not meet it head-on; he wrapped his wrist around the palm's motion, winding toward Guo Jing's wrist like a snake, then Guo Jing retracted his left palm and struck out with his right.

Feng Yi wore a strange smile on his face, his arms transforming as if he had six arms, swift as flying light—this scene appeared extraordinarily bizarre. Yet his force was soft and continuous, making it hard for Guo Jing to unleash his force freely; this was a technique from the Blood Saber Classic.

Although the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms are known for their hardness and strength, Guo Jing has diligently practiced the Nine Yin True Classic for nearly twenty years, causing the palm's force to alternate between strong and weak, swallowing and exhaling, producing a subtle use of softness within hardness; although it appears grand and upright, its force also has a strange quality—Feng Yi knows the moves, yet cannot fathom the direction of his force.

Over two thousand people inside and outside the hall gazed intently at the two fighting; one was skillful, the other clumsy, forming a stark contrast. Those with weaker martial arts certainly stared wide-eyed, tongue-tied, and even first-rate masters such as Hong Qigong, Huang Rong, Li Mochou, and Zhu Ziliu were all enthralled and greatly amazed.

After exchanging over a hundred moves, they remained evenly matched, making it hard to tell who was superior.

Guo Fu, by nature fond of martial arts, seeing Feng Yi's awkward and unsightly appearance, complained: 'Mother, what martial art is Feng Yi using? How can Father's Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms not defeat him?'

Huang Rong stared intently at the battlefield, silent in reply; she knew Feng Yi's martial arts were profound and unparalleled, fearing that Guo Jing would lose in public and lose face, so she reluctantly resorted to fighting, yet the foolish daughter still had to ask about this.

Guo Fu saw her mother say nothing, and saw Hong Qigong's brows dancing with delight as he drank continuously; she immediately asked again: 'Grandfather, what martial art is Feng Yi using? How come I don't know it?'

Hong Qigong laughed: 'That brat is using the esoteric sect's teachings; you little girl, staying all day on Peach Blossom Island, how could you know it?'

Guo Fu said: 'Then grandfather, tell me, whose chances of victory are greater?'

Hong Qigong naturally knew the two were evenly matched, but as an impartial observer, if he wanted to point out a side, that side's chances of winning would naturally increase. However, he also knew their dispute was not a life-and-death enmity, merely a difference in principles, so he could only drink heavily.

'Strange!' Huang Rong said: 'Master, how does Feng Yi's martial arts bear considerable similarity to the Western Poison's martial arts?'

... (Chinese/English)

Huang Rong suddenly understood.

Upon hearing that this was the Western Regions' esoteric sect martial art, Guo Fu stared fixedly at Feng Yi, finding it amusing and wanting to silently memorize his moves.

Who would have known that the Blood Saber Classic's martial arts are heretical, with awkward postures and a grinning appearance, all meant to bewilder the mind. Having learned only a little, her mind became muddled, and she actually walked step by step toward the hall's center.

Huang Rong was greatly startled and quickly reached out to grab her. At this moment, Guo Fu's mind and spirit were already controlled; she strained to shake off her mother.

Huang Rong turned her hand, seized her wrist, pulled her back, and turned her face away so she could not see the two fighting.

Guo Fu struggled a few times, her pulse point was seized and she could not move; her head felt dizzy, and she collapsed into her mother's arms and fell asleep.

After another hundred or so moves, Feng Yi's hand blade-like strike aimed at Guo Jing's throat; Guo Jing immediately raised his arm to block, but unexpectedly, the Blood Saber Classic's martial arts 'strike left, look right' and 'overturn three, reverse four' are fundamental, not to be judged by ordinary logic; Feng Yi turned his body, his right hand becoming like a snake's shadow, and swooped to grab Guo Jing's wrist.

Few in the world could evade this grab, and Feng Yi seized the moment when Guo Jing's palm moved away; the opponent's wrist was instantly locked in a death grip.

Huang Rong gasped in surprise; just as Feng Yi grabbed his wrist, his force had not yet been released when he felt his hand slip—Guo Jing's wrist was like a slippery fish coated in oil, and it 'whooshed' out.

After Feng Yi's divine skill reached perfection, nothing he grasped had ever escaped; he was slightly startled, Guo Jing changed his move with astonishing speed, turned his wrist, and his right palm broke free from the lock, then followed through with a strike that directly hit Feng Yi's shoulder.

This is precisely the 'Dragon Seen in the Field' technique from the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms' repertoire—a marvelous counterattack that follows the momentum, combining attack within defense, possessing tremendous power.

Feng Yi only felt a huge force coming from the side, as mighty as shocking waves; his right hand had no time to turn, and his left hand was placed horizontally across his chest.

When the two palms met, there was a solid 'thud' like a muffled thunder exploding; a fierce wind filled the room, a tremendous force surged in all directions, and the onlookers felt a strong wind blast into their faces, entering their mouths and noses, rendering them unable to speak or even stand steady.

Feng Yi stumbled back three steps, 'deng deng deng', swaying as he stood, his face flushed, chest tight, heart pounding. He thought, both surprised and regretful: 'Guo Jing actually plays mind games too! If I'm not careful today, I'll bring disgrace upon myself.'

He realized that Guo Jing's move had been charged for a long time, so when he grabbed Guo Jing's wrist, Guo Jing had already anticipated it; at the moment the dagger is revealed, the timing of the strike is precise, the palm force fierce, while Feng Yi hastily raised his block, his force unable to match the opponent's weight.

Hong Qigong laughed loudly: 'What a fellow, daring to meet this move head-on!'

When masters duel and both have reached the pinnacle of perfection, their matches often last for days yet still be hard to decide superiority; the only chance to win lies in the slightest error by either side. Feng Yi made a tactical mistake, Guo Jing seized the momentum to counterattack, and by meeting it head-on he naturally suffered a dull loss.

Feng Yi smiled and said: 'If I do not meet this number-one palm under heaven head-on, would I not regret it for a lifetime?'

Hong Qigong burst out laughing: 'For this saying, old beggar I toast you with a bowl!' As he spoke, he pushed out with a palm, and a bowl full of fine wine flew toward Feng Yi.

Feng Yi laughed: 'Then I shall not refuse!' He reached out, caught it, drank it all in one gulp, and with a 'pa' sound the bowl shattered.

Guo Fu was suddenly startled awake, not understanding why, she saw Feng Yi and her father standing motionless, and asked: 'Who won?'

Wu Xiuwen hastily replied: 'Master won.'

Guo Fu shouted loudly: 'Feng Yi, you still won't admit defeat?'

'Fu'er!' Guo Jing exhaled and spoke.

Guo Fu trembled at the response, then suddenly heard Guo Jing sigh and say: 'Brother Feng, let's call it a halt.'

He knew well that just now that move, although he had taken the initiative, it could not be considered a victory.

Feng Yi fell silent for a moment, then sighed: 'The Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms truly are an invincible martial art; I cannot win against you in fist and foot combat.'

He reached into his waist and pulled out a strip of white paper, flicked it into the wind, and a 'humming' sound rang out; everyone looked closely and saw that this strip of paper was actually a bright-bladed Burmese knife.

Everyone immediately understood his intention.

Guo Jing is the foremost martial arts master of the present age; his attainment in fist and foot had already reached the peak of perfection twenty years ago, and over these years he has devoted himself to arduous practice, making his skill ever more pure; Feng Yi, after all, is young, and no matter how many fortunate encounters he has, hoping to prevail by fist and foot is impossible.

A contest of internal strength would be far too dangerous!

If mishandled, it would result in mutual defeat and injury!

: So: "If you want to win, you can only use weapons; of course, this also indirectly shows that weapons are Feng Yi's strongest means." Use Feng Yi.

Translation: Wanting to win, one can only resort to weapons; of course, this also indirectly shows that weapons are Feng Yi's strongest means.

Check:...

Thus: Wanting to win, one can only resort to weapons; of course, this also indirectly shows that weapons are Feng Yi's strongest means.

Make sure no extra words.

Translation: Seeing Feng Yi shake his Myanmar knife, he said in a stern voice: "Guo Jing, if we fight with fists and feet, perhaps after several thousand moves we still couldn't tell a winner; please draw your weapon!"

Check: "Myanmar knife" is a type of knife. "spoke in a stern voice" = spoke in a stern voice. "Guo Jing" = Guo Jing, the great hero. Use Guo Jing. "fight with fists and feet" = fight with fists and feet. "perhaps after several thousand moves still cannot decide winner" = perhaps after several thousand moves still cannot decide winner. "please also draw your weapon" = please also draw your weapon.

Thus: Seeing Feng Yi shake his Myanmar knife, he said in a stern voice: "Guo Jing, if we fight with fists and feet, perhaps after several thousand moves we still couldn't tell a winner; please draw your weapon!"

Make sure single line.

Translation: Guo Jing saw his solemn expression, unlike his usual self, pursed his lips and fell silent for a moment, then said: "I'm not skilled with weapons; I'll learn your swordsmanship with these bare palms."

Check:...

Translation: In a duel between experts, having or not having a weapon makes little difference; what matters is each's own specialty. Feng Yi said: "Good!" Before his voice faded, a thread of sword light flashed across the sky.

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Translation: Guo Jing sank his horse stance, his right palm turning in a circle, his left palm striking out.

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Translation: Feng Yi's blade, like solid white jade, with a "hiss" sound, its force like a fully drawn crossbow bolt, directly pierced Guo Jing's invisible palm force and fell toward his throat.

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Translation: Guo Jing's right hand flicked with the momentum, as fast as lightning, striking the blade's surface with a "clang"; finger and blade met, a humming sound rang straight into the ears, and his left palm, as fast as lightning, struck toward Feng Yi's chest.

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Translation: Before this palm's force arrived, a strong wind made Feng Yi feel suffocated.

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Translation: Feng Yi flourished a blade flower, and in an instant severed that palm force into nothing, then thrust his blade forward; if he didn't move, it would be fine, but once he moved his footwork was astonishingly fast.

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Translation: Among all martial arts in the world, if speaking of the wonder of lightness skill, none surpasses the Ancient Tomb Sect's "Heavenly Net Earthly Web" stance, especially within a hall, where it is as comfortable as a fish in water.

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Translation: Seeing his body dart up and down, left and right, sometimes like a dragonfly skimming water, sometimes like a crane circling, his blade flashed like lightning, each strike aimed at vital points, fully unleashing the Blood Blade's power!

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Translation: However, Guo Jing's palms danced, their force becoming round and seamless, enveloping his whole body; this defense had not the slightest gap, and though Feng Yi's Blood Blade was peerlessly sharp and his moves marvelously unpredictable, he could not penetrate within three steps of Guo Jing.

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Translation: When Guo Jing attacked, his fierce and unmatched palm force was like an invisible qi blade, sweeping out to a zhang away; the preceding force had not faded before the next arrived, layer upon layer, as if embracing heaven and earth.

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Translation: Even though Feng Yi's cultivation had reached the sublime, facing this most rigid and firm "Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms" of the world, he gained no advantage, yet he was not startled but delighted.

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Translation: Since Feng Yi's divine skill was perfected, although he had faced countless masters, as his martial arts grew ever higher, his opponents were either those with only superficial skill but poor practical ability, or those with sufficient skill but old and frail, which prevented him from unleashing himself, giving him a sense of lacking worthy opponents and unbearable loneliness.

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Translation: Now encountering Guo Jing, such a supremely strong and vigorous master, he could hardly contain his joy.

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Translation: Feng Yi's footwork unfolded, racing in all directions, wishing to turn the entire hall into a battlefield; his Blood Blade's edge suddenly lengthened, its cutting force transformed into momentum, and he went all out. For a moment, it seemed as if many Feng Yis were weaving back and forth.

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Translation: The assembled heroes had never seen such a fight; those slightly inferior in martial arts felt dizzy and nauseous, wanting to vomit.

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Translation: Even without looking, one could feel palm force and blade energy crisscrossing all around, as if countless thunderbolts and gales were colliding and surging, and the area affected by the energy kept expanding.

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Let's go with that.

Translation: The onlookers retreated again, withdrawing six or seven zhang away before they could steady their stances.

Translation: Guo Fu had originally been confident in her father, but seeing Feng Yi use a knife this time, she feared that even a single strike could maim or kill him; her face turned pale, and she hurriedly said to Huang Rong: "Mother, please quickly have Father stop; they have no deep hatred!"

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Translation: Huang Rong said coldly: "What do you know?"

Translation: Guo Fu saw her mother's composed expression and cold tone, yet didn't notice the sweat beading on her nose tip, unaware of her inner turmoil, and pouted: "They merely differ in opinion; must they really fight to the death?"

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Translation: "Silly child." Huang Rong seemed somewhat regretful, sighing lightly: "Since ancient times, because of differing opinions, how could it be limited to fighting to the death? Those who died for this are already countless. Far back there was Qin Shi Huang burning books and burying scholars, Han Wudi abolishing the hundred schools..."

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Translation: Speaking to this point, she paused: "More recently, our dynasty's Yue Wumu, who possessed peerless military strategy, inferior to no ancient or modern general, only because he insisted on northern expeditions, going against Emperor Gaozong of Song's desire for peace, was he not wrongly killed at the Wind-and-Wave Pavilion?"

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Translation: And our Huang clan's ancestors also differed in opinion from those in power, suffering demotion and exile!

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Translation: Guo Fu had heard the allusions Huang Rong mentioned, but knew nothing about her family's affairs; after thinking, she said: "Feng Yi and my father aren't those in power; even if our ideas differ, we could each just do our own thing!"

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Translation: Huang Rong snorted coldly, saying: "What Feng Yi wants to do cannot succeed without the support of the world's number one gang; your father also doesn't want him to go astray and bring suffering upon the people."

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Translation: She became agitated, stirring her internal energy, coughing violently, until Hong Qigong infused a stream of true qi into her back, after which she recovered her strength and sighed: "Master, who do you think will win?"

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Translation: Hong Qigong stroked his beard and said: "Both Feng Yi and Jing'er are veterans of a hundred battles; now what they're contesting is not martial arts but their respective beliefs!"

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Translation: Guo Jing's Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms had reached the sublime and pure perfection; as his palms swept, his force obeyed his will, changing freely—sometimes absorbing, sometimes emitting, sometimes sweeping sideways, sometimes pushing straight, sometimes slashing sideways, sometimes coiling.

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Translation: Though its strength is unstoppable, its variations are marvelously inexhaustible, capable of myriad changes; in offense and defense it not only has no gaps, but also constantly neutralizes Feng Yi's blade force and launches counterattacks.

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Translation: When counterattacking, the palm force and palm position differ; it appears to strike the abdomen but actually hits the face, sometimes like a stone wall pressing, sometimes like a weapon thrusting straight.

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Translation: Fortunately, Feng Yi's studies are profound, versed in both orthodox and unorthodox ways, and in the superior martial arts of the Central Plains and the Western Regions; he naturally understands the principle of this invisible true force's variations.

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Translation: Besides defending his gates and seeking chances to counterattack, he not only kept up but his strikes grew ever more exquisite—at first resembling the Blood Blade Classic, later transcending its limits; reminiscent of the Liancheng Sword Art or the Nine Yin True Scripture, his moves followed his will, disregarding any particular martial art, manifesting only as white light swift as lightning and quick as starlight.

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Translation: The heroes saw only that the two were separated by more than a zhang, fighting from afar, palm wind howling, blade energy crisscrossing; one's aura was deep and tranquil, the other's graceful and lofty, defense as firm as Mount Tai, attack as if heaven and earth were collapsing.

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Translation: At first Guo Jing's palm force seemed to overwhelm Feng Yi with the might of thunderbolts, but Feng Yi's blade energy surged east and west; whenever there was the slightest gap in the palm force, it immediately seeped through, like a reversed galaxy pouring down, striking straight at Guo Jing's vital points.

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Translation: After another hundred exchanges, the momentum of Guo Jing's Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms grew ever more massive and vigorous, like layers of furious waves, enveloping Feng Yi's entire body.

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Translation: Although the Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms' force is indeed heavy and solid, Feng Yi's blade energy is like a heavenly rainbow—ever-changing, razor‑sharp and fierce; no matter how strong the palm force, it cannot harm him.

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Translation: Yet Feng Yi's blade energy, however nimble and airy, still cannot match the Dragon Subduing Palm's thick and vigorous force; he could never land a strike on Guo Jing's body.

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Translation: Such is the immutable law of all things; though Guo Jing and Feng Yi have both reached the pinnacle of martial arts, they cannot surpass it. Hence neither can defeat the other.

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Translation: Even if Feng Yi's Divine Illumination Classic had been cultivated to pure perfection, his spirit clear and enlightened, facing such myriad variations of aerial palm force, he was helpless and immediately slowed his techniques.

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Translation: One saw the robe on Feng Yi's sword‑holding arm bulge high, the blade tremble slightly, and faintly emit a cold yet sharp gleam.

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Translation: Witnessing this, Hong Qigong's eyes flashed with brilliance as he shouted: "Quickly put away the food!" saying this, he lifted the table before him and leapt backward.

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Translation: Guo Jing also understood that the sheen on Feng Yi's blade, like rippling water, surely contained tremendous power, and he cried: "Everyone, retreat!"

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Translation: When Feng Yi slowed his movements, to the eyes of experts it seemed even more perilous than his previous rapid attacks.

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Translation: Know that rapid attacks test only reaction speed, but a delayed strike may be probing the opponent or gathering power; thus when unleashed, it must be a tremendously powerful killing blow.

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Translation: As Guo Jing's words fell, Feng Yi's true qi had reached its utmost, and his Blood Blade slashed downward—yet with a "huala" sound, a force that seemed invisible yet extremely sharp lifted the cyan bricks before him, each a zhang wide and long, sending them flying toward Guo Jing.

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Translation: Numbering in the hundreds, these bricks were like a cyan wall pressing forward; midway they suddenly shattered, exploding with deafening noise, the shards' edges razor‑sharp, their momentum terrifying; the crowd showed fearful expressions and retreated, for if it struck them, it would mean death or injury.

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Translation: Unexpectedly, Guo Jing waved his hand, and all the cyan brick fragments, drawn by his palm wind, gathered together, forming before him a whirl of cyan turning white, like a tornado rising from flat ground.

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Translation: Such palm force, beyond human imagination, made the heroes erupt in earth‑shaking cheers, thinking: "Even with such methods, Feng Yi cannot overcome Master Guo; the title of number one under heaven is truly deserved!"

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Translation: Yet before the thought faded, Feng Yi's blade transformed into a divine dragon, shot forth from his hand while his body lunged forward, like a flying fish leaping from water, skimming the ground.

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Translation: This sudden change came like a wind‑driven rainstorm, its momentum terrifying; with a "huala", the Blood Blade pierced Guo Jing's palm wind, shattering that invisible force and causing the brick fragments to lose control.

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Translation: Those fragments, now like cyan shards sharp as awls, all fell down, striking Feng Yi as he lunged low to the ground.

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Translation: At the same moment, with a "si" sound, the Blood Blade tore through the air straight for Guo Jing's throat.

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Translation: Guo Jing swept his left palm outward, gathering the overlapping cyan shards from Feng Yi's body, and with his right hand brought together his index and middle fingers to seize the blade's tip.

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Seeing a figure flash, Guo Jing wanted to counterattack, with a hiss he felt numbness on his Qi Sea point, his face turned as if smeared with blood, his steps unsteady, his body swayed, suddenly felt a surge of heat in his chest, and his whole body unable to move.

Huang Rong almost cried out, the sound had just reached her throat, suddenly she choked it off.

Seeing that Feng Yi did not strike again, he reached out and took the blood blade that had fallen from Guo Jing's hand, leapt carefree, performed a backward somersault, while in midair the blood blade had already returned to his waist, by the time his feet touched the ground he was already at the hall entrance.

Woo— a burst sounded, bricks from all around flew toward him; these fragments were struck out by Guo Jing, flying several zhang, their residual force not yet spent—if they fell on anyone else, injury would be inevitable.

Feng Yi pressed his palms down; he moved as swiftly as a rabbit rising and a falcon swooping, extraordinarily swift. Some weaker martial artists hadn't even seen his move when they heard a 'crackle' of fragments scattering— the sky-full of debris, as if sentient, all drifted down lightly to the ground.

Some people could not help but cheer, thinking: 'Feng Yi is truly the number one under heaven!'

The cheers had barely begun when the quick-witted saw Feng Yi standing solemnly, his face grave, utterly devoid of joy, not at all like a victor; they hastily swallowed the rest of their words.

In an instant, the hall fell silent.

In the main hall, dust and smoke cleared; the whirlwind that had just appeared seemed never to have existed, and Guo Jing stood there like a statue.

Feng Yi also stood silently.

The atmosphere on the field shifted from motion to stillness; some people were dazed, others showed great fear, while Feng Yi secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Many of them did not understand what had happened.

Huang Rong darted to Guo Jing's front, waved her hand and tapped repeatedly, unsealing his blocked acupoints, and asked: 'Brother Jing, are you alright?'

Guo Jing took one finger strike each to his abdomen and chest from Feng Yi; though uninjured, his meridians trembled and his dantian boiled. After all, they had fought to this extent, their power filling their bodies—if Feng Yi had not struck hard, how could he have sealed Guo Jing's acupoints? As for this, he need not tell his wife, and he immediately shook his head.

Huang Rong nodded and stepped aside.

Guo Jing bowed to Feng Yi and said: 'Brother Feng, your martial skill is superb and your mind exceptionally quick—I have never seen the like in my life. I admire you! I admire you! This round I have lost!'

Only then did everyone realize that Guo Jing's acupoints had been sealed by Feng Yi; victory and defeat were decided, life and death clear.

After all, Feng Yi had just drawn his swift sword; otherwise Guo Jing would have been spattered with blood on the spot.

Feng Yi sighed: 'I have resorted to trickery, exploiting Great Hero Guo's benevolent heart to luckily win a move—what is that worth?'

His words were sincere; everyone present heard them and instantly understood why Guo Jing had lost.

(End of chapter)