Chapter 572: You Lost, Wild Grass in the Mud! (First Chapter)

Sima Pan had not taken a fighting stance.

"Young Master Guan, I suppose you've never fought anyone before."

"Then let's start with a sparring drill. Young Master Guan, perform the Six Forms of Fist, then follow with one strike of Stone-Slamming Hand."

After all, given Young Master Guan's cultivation level and age, this would indeed be bullying the young—he pondered inwardly.

Seeing your hesitation, Sima Pan laughed aloud:

"I'll use only the strength of the Third Realm. If your Stone-Slamming Hand can make me step back half a pace, I lose."

You looked at him and saw his blood and qi surging like tides, muscles coiled like ropes, his lips split into a grin of dazzling white.

A bright gleam also appeared in your eyes.

These past two months of martial cultivation, you had trained daily without a single moment of slack.

You were confident you were no weaker than anyone else.

You performed the Six Forms of the Ancestral Monkey Posture one by one; Sima Pan merely blocked.

"Monkey Strikes Howling Mountain!"

"Long Monkey Covers the Sea!"

"Giant Monkey Lifts the Mountain!"

Sima Pan blocked with his hands, eyes flashing with sharp light, exclaiming: "Excellent fist technique!"

The youth in blue robes fluttered as he moved, black hair streaming in the wind, eyes gleaming with spirit.

His posture was agile, power coiled in his fists.

The earlier scholarly grace had vanished entirely.

At first, Sima Pan had worried this Young Master Guan might only know "dead forms," or be as rigid as a Confucian scholar, delivering punches with "weakness."

But!

When his hand easily blocked the boy's furious punch, a brighter smile curled on his lips.

There was power!

"Young Master Guan, the force of your punch originates in the waist, and the waist's foundation lies in the hips. The stance of the Ancestral Monkey Posture is the very essence of the Six Forms—this is what they mean by 'turning the spear into fists.'"

Sima Pan, intending to guide you, said gravely: "When striking, retain three-tenths of your strength. This is the way of yin-yang balance. Movement is yang's peak, yin's weakness—striking creates an opening. Only when movement and stillness harmonize can you stand invincible."

You understood instantly; your fist technique no longer pursued mere speed, but now alternated between fast and slow, gaining greater variation.

"Three-tenths power, seven-tenths footwork. Pay attention to your breathing rhythm—think of the stepping stance in the Ancestral Monkey Posture."

The youth, hearing this, exhaled slowly, his steps became erratic, his waist and back powering the motion.

After forty moves, both of you cycled through the Six Forms of the Monkey Posture, matching each strike with perfect counter.

Sima Pan's initial admiration gradually turned to astonishment.

Know this!

Martial arts have two kinds of practice: training form and combat form. Some progress rapidly in training, yet when facing opponents of equal realm, they grow fearful, hands and feet trembling, easily defeated.

Others can fight and win against higher realms.

Those who train fast and fight strong are martial geniuses.

As Sima Pan hesitated slightly, the boy across from him seized this rare opening.

His fist technique subtly shifted—the Six Forms had merged into one.

Both hands lifted as if bearing a heavy stone tablet, leaping lightly, using his own weight to slam it down hard against his own chest.

Sima Pan saw it and grinned: "Stone-Slamming Hand!"

At this moment!

He could no longer dodge—if he dodged, he'd have to use the power of the Middle Three Realms, clearly violating his own rule.

The boy had seized this opportunity perfectly!

Sima Pan crouched slightly, lowered his chest, ready to absorb the blow head-on.

Your hands slammed against Sima Pan's chest, feeling as if striking a cast iron block—the recoil sent sharp pain through your hands.

This was the power of the Middle Three Realms!

Their bodies had long surpassed ordinary humans, capable of wrestling beasts and killing tigers with a single punch.

Ordinary blades and swords could not pierce their skin or finger bones—even their fingernails had hardened into blades.

Sima Pan felt the palm force on his chest—equivalent to two oxen's strength—and thought inwardly: "Truly, this is the fused 'Stone-Slamming Hand'—and used with mastery, delivered effortlessly."

With this technique alone!

Most Third Realm martial artists would struggle to withstand more than a few strikes from this Young Master Guan.

But!

Sima Pan's cultivation base was profound; though he used only Third Realm strength, years of training had hardened his bones to an extraordinary degree.

That mere two-ox force meant nothing to him—it couldn't budge him an inch.

His feet stood firm as bedrock, rooted to the earth, utterly unmoving.

His chest rose and fell slightly, guiding the impact force silently into the ground, neutralizing it.

Sima Pan had no intention of counterattacking—he already understood: the Ancestral Monkey's Six Forms had been fully displayed, and he now knew this Young Master Guan's realm and strength.

Just as he was about to speak, a soft, lingering palm force suddenly surged from his chest.

"Internal force!"

Sima Pan's heart startled—he had just withdrawn his strength, and years of "hundreds of battles" triggered his body's instinctive response: he stepped back half a pace, dissipating the palm force.

Sima Pan froze, recalling the broken stone slab: its surface unharmed, yet beneath lay several deep cracks.

The youth had already withdrawn his stance, his eyes shimmering like water, a faint smile on his lips.

"Brother Sima, you've lost."

Sima Pan looked at the footprint left by his half-step back and admitted calmly: "I lost."

A martial artist who had reached the Sixth Realm, one step away from ascending to the Upper Three Realms, had been defeated by a boy who had trained fists for only two months.

Though it involved a trick, it would still shock anyone who heard it.

He looked again at the Young Master Guan—the boy had already returned to his original calm, refined demeanor.

The dilapidated courtyard was patched together like a worn garment; snow on the ground had not yet been cleared.

In other young masters' or young ladies' courtyards, servants would have swept the snow clean by morning.

Sima Pan suddenly understood why his master, Sima Ting—a powerful regional governor—would go to such lengths to befriend this stranger, this orphaned bastard with no family ties.

The boy was no ordinary fish!

This wild grass growing in mud, once granted a sliver of sunlight, would grow wildly, eventually becoming a towering tree.

Sima Pan no longer lingered. He bowed respectfully to you and prepared to leave.

You brought out from the house the sliced beef and large chunks of venison that Wu Tong had bought these past days, each wrapped with blessings written on them, as your gift in return.

"Brother Sima, the gift is light, but the sentiment is heavy."

Sima Pan smiled in reply: "Young Master Guan, if you need anything in the future, find me on Feisong Street."

As for paying New Year's respects to Sima Ting, you decided to visit in person near the New Year or in early spring.

There was still the Qunfang Banquet the day before Lunar New Year's Eve—no rush.

Sima Pan took his leave, stepping through the snow out of the Western Courtyard; only when his figure vanished from sight did you return to the yard.

You looked at the three volumes of the Ancestral Monkey Posture in your hands, a smile on your face.

The cultivation methods of the Middle Three Realms had finally been secured.

You gazed at the broken stone slab at the courtyard gate, moved there by Xie Yuan with "gritted teeth."

You raised your index and middle fingers into a sword finger, visualizing the Demon-Slaying Sword within your heart-sea.

You drew lightly across your chest, then pointed at the stone.

You smiled faintly and walked slowly back inside.

It was noon; sunlight bathed everything, the snow had begun to melt, water dripped from the roof—drip, drip, drip.

After you left, the large stone slab slowly split into four pieces, revealing smooth, even cut surfaces inside.

(End of Chapter)