Chapter 22

Heaven-Dependent World, on Mount Wudang.

On the huge square in front of the Wu Dangpai, the third-generation disciples, led by Zhang Jie and Song Qingshu, were lined up neatly.

Standing in front of them were four of the seven Wu Dangqixia, led by Song Yuanqiao, wearing green Daoist robes, Daoist crowns on their heads,

and cloth boots on their feet.

It had been half a month since Heaven-Dependent Zhang Jie went to the shared space to complain about pre-made food with Water Margin Zhang Jie.

Today was the Wu Dangpai's semi-annual Wu Lin Assembly.

Of course, unlike the Wu Lin Assemblies in some gangster cultivation stories where the rewards are huge,

and people fight to the death with schemes and deceit.

The Wudang Wu Lin Assembly was equivalent to a formal sparring session,

mainly used to test the skills each disciple had learned over the past six months.

The Wu Dangpai attached great importance to this semi-annual Wu Lin Assembly.

Among the Wu Dangqixia, except for the deceased fifth hero Zhang Cuishan,

the third hero Yu Daiyan, who was decadent because his bones had been crippled,

and the sixth hero Yin Liting, who had gone down the mountain on business and had not yet returned,

the other four heroes—the first hero Song Yuanqiao, the second hero Yu Lianzhou, the fourth hero Zhang Songxi, and the seventh hero Mo Shenggu—were all present.

Zhang Zhenren, however, had been in seclusion recently, so he did not attend.

Looking at the third-generation disciples in front of him, who were well-organized and in high spirits,

Song Yuanqiao, who was acting as the head of Wudang, nodded with satisfaction.

He said in a steady voice: "Since our master,

your grandmaster Zhang Zhenren, founded the sect, more than thirty years have passed.

Over these years, our Wudang's prestige in the Jianghu has grown daily,

which is truly because our master is a man of great virtue and prestige.

However, the future of our Wudang ultimately lies with you.

You must diligently study the Daoist scriptures and martial arts, and not tarnish the reputation of our Wudang!"

Song Yuanqiao's voice was gentle and generous; although it wasn't loud,

it seemed to ring clearly and powerfully in the ears of every third-generation disciple.

It was evident that the internal strength of this leader of the Wu Dangqixia was extremely profound.

"Yes! We will strictly follow the teachings of the First Senior Uncle!"

The second-generation disciples, including Zhang Jie, responded in unison.

"Hmm."

Listening to the uniform voices and feeling the sincerity of the disciples,

the stern Song Yuanqiao nodded again, very satisfied with the third-generation disciples of Wudang.

For him, who regarded Wudang as his own home, there was nothing that made him happier than seeing this home grow and thrive.

"Fourth Junior Brother, let the sparring begin."

Song Yuanqiao turned his head and said to his fourth junior brother Zhang Songxi.

Although he was the chief steward of Wudang, he couldn't manage every single detail.

He focused on the big picture, while other specific matters were handled by his junior brothers.

Although the martial arts of the fourth junior brother Zhang Songxi were not as high as those of the second junior brother Yu Lianzhou,

unlike the taciturn Yu Lianzhou, Zhang Songxi was intelligent, quick-witted, and good at strategy,

known in the Wu Dangpai for his wisdom; it was most appropriate for him to be in charge of the Wu Lin Assembly.

"Yes, First Senior Brother." Zhang Songxi replied.

He took two steps forward and announced loudly:

"I announce that the Wu Lin Assembly officially begins. The first match: Li Chenzhou versus Chen Xiaolou."

"Disciple acknowledges the order."

Amidst two voices of different tones, two disciples walked out of the ranks.

Li Chenzhou was tall and thin, while Chen Xiaolou was not short but a bit chubby.

The two arrived at the ring on the square, which had been circled with lime and was twenty meters long and wide.

"Junior Brother, please."

Li Chenzhou, who had joined the sect earlier, cupped his hands and invited.

"Then I will offend you, Senior Brother."

Chen Xiaolou returned the salute and then drew the long sword held in his left hand.

He tapped lightly on the ground, and his whole body drifted toward Li Chenzhou like willow catkins in the wind,

the long sword with its faintly visible cold light striking directly at Li Chenzhou's vital points.

"Well struck!"

Li Chenzhou praised, also drawing his long sword, but he did not move,

instead standing in place to receive this sword strike from Chen Xiaolou.

Chen Xiaolou, failing in his first strike, immediately withdrew, his footsteps fast and slow,

circling around Li Chenzhou, trying to find his flaws.

Unexpectedly, Chen Xiaolou, whose figure seemed clumsy, followed a light and agile path,

while Li Chenzhou, who was tall and thin and looked like he had a great advantage in light martial arts, remained as motionless as a mountain.

"Clang, clang, clang!"

Next, several attacks launched by Chen Xiaolou were all received one by one by Li Chenzhou, who responded to change with constancy.

"Not bad, not bad."

Song Yuanqiao and the others watching the battle nodded repeatedly.

Although Li Chenzhou and Chen Xiaolou were fighting to a standstill,

either one of them could be considered a third-rate expert in the Jianghu, capable of dominating a county.

With careful training, they had great prospects of becoming second-rate experts with a small reputation across several provinces.

As for first-rate experts like the heads of major sects such as the Emei Sect or Kongdong Sect, that would depend on their own opportunities.

"Clang!"

In the end, Li Chenzhou, who was waiting for an attack while defending, found an opportunity,

using a move from the Spirit Gate Thirteen Swords, "Ziya Fishing," to strike directly at Chen Xiaolou's right-hand Spirit Gate acupoint.

Chen Xiaolou, having nowhere to dodge, had to abandon his sword.

The Spirit Gate Thirteen Swords were uniquely created by the Wudang Sect's founding master Zhang Zhenren.

This sword technique contains thirteen exquisite sword moves,

each move having the core goal of attacking the opponent's Spirit Gate acupoint,

causing the person struck to instantly lose the ability to hold a weapon.

The sixth hero of Wudang, Yin Liting, once used this sword technique in actual combat to force more than ten members of the Sanjiang Gang to abandon their swords.

"I concede."

Chen Xiaolou, running out of breath, cupped his hands and said.

"Junior Brother, you have conceded."

Li Chenzhou, not arrogant in victory, cupped his hands and returned the salute.

The disciples and even the four heroes of Wudang were not surprised by this result.

In situations where there were no obvious differences in talent, effort, or mentorship,

those who had practiced martial arts for a longer time could often defeat those who had practiced for a shorter time.

Next, under the orderly arrangement of Zhang Songxi, the other disciples finished their sparring one by one.

Soon it was the turn of Zhang Jie and Song Qingshu, who were among the best of the third-generation disciples of Wudang.

Well, this kind of sparring was to test what had been learned, so the opponents for each disciple were evenly matched.

After all, letting disciples with too large a gap spar would hurt the confidence of the weaker disciple,

and would not promote the stronger disciple, but might instead foster arrogance.

In the martial arts arena, Song Qingshu narrowed his eyes as he looked at Zhang Jie, who was standing five or six meters away from him.

His vigilance toward Zhang Jie had existed for a long time; if possible, he did not want to let Zhang Jie take the initiative.

However, in front of this large crowd, under the watchful eyes of his father, teachers,

and all his junior brothers, he had to show the demeanor of a senior brother.

Song Qingshu, who had the reputation of "Jade-Faced Meng Chang," cupped his hands and said:

"Junior Brother, please."

"Senior Brother, please."

Zhang Jie returned the salute, but did not draw his sword, instead stepping on the floor with his toes,

and his whole body rushed toward Song Qingshu like a wild bull.

The floor he stepped on cracked inch by inch, as if it had been heavily trampled by an elephant weighing tons!

Song Qingshu looked at Zhang Jie's behavior, but a trace of contempt flashed in his eyes.

In his eyes, a martial artist should be as light as willow catkins, with green clothes fluttering, and sword in hand traveling the world.

Like Zhang Jie, how was this different from a brute?

Zhang Jie: Do you think I don't want to be like that?

It's just that my physical talent doesn't allow it!

Zhang Jie, like some kind of brute Vajra, while dreaming of becoming a sword hero in fluttering white clothes,

had accidentally embarked on the path of a thunder-blade mad monk and a clothes-ripping Daoist.

However, Song Yuanqiao below was quite discerning.

In his eyes, having seen Great Yuan generals wearing hundred-jin heavy armor, holding hammers,

axes, long spears, and other heavy weapons weighing dozens of jin, and riding precious horses to charge,

Zhang Jie was almost no different from a general, except that he lacked the murderous aura of a general who killed like mowing grass.

Even in terms of bravery, Zhang Jie was more than a notch higher than the general he had seen.

That is to say, if Zhang Jie were placed in an army,

he would be a peerless fierce general capable of taking the head of a general from among ten thousand troops!

"Junior Brother, you have taken in a good disciple!"

Song Yuanqiao sighed to Yu Lianzhou beside him.

In these chaotic times of the Great Yuan, the value of a peerless fierce general can be imagined.

Not to mention anything else, if the Great Yuan court knew of Zhang Jie's existence,

they would never be stingy with the title of a Marquis of Ten Thousand Households!

"Senior Brother is overpraising him."

Yu Lianzhou's tone was humble.

However, a trace of a smile flashed across his always serious face.

To him, Zhang Jie, whom he had raised since childhood, was no different from his own son.

Now that his son had skills and had received praise, how could he, as a father, not feel happy and proud?

Speaking of which, if Zhang Jie's name hadn't been discovered in his swaddling clothes,

Zhang Jie should have been surnamed Yu, like him, Yu Lianzhou!

Bringing the focus back to the martial arts arena.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

The floor tiles on the martial arts arena were smashed to pieces by Zhang Jie, who was stretching his body to the fullest,

and he used the reaction force to rush toward Song Qingshu like a cannonball out of a chamber.

"It's useless, Junior Brother."

Song Qingshu stepped on the cloud ladder, turning flexibly, with ever-changing directions,

dodging all of Zhang Jie's attacks, which were fast but straight.

This scene was like a flexible monkey teasing a black bear.

No matter how furious the black bear was, it couldn't do anything to the monkey that could climb trees.

"Senior Brother Zhang is probably going to lose."

Some Wudang disciples who were on good terms with Zhang Jie secretly felt sorry for him.

In every previous sparring session, Song Qingshu, who had more flexible footwork and not-weak internal strength, had won.

Although Zhang Jie's speed was not slow, it was still too slow for Song Qingshu, who was eight or nine years older than him.

"Junior Brother, of all martial arts in the world, nothing is unbreakable; only speed is invincible."

Song Qingshu, with a relaxed face and seemingly no pressure, said leisurely.

However, in his heart, he was secretly crying out:

"Damn it, this brute's brute force is even more terrifying!"

Other junior brothers thought he was very relaxed, but only he knew the danger in it:

Every gust of wind Zhang Jie brought up just now made the skin on his face ache.

He knew that today, as long as he was hit by one move from Zhang Jie, he would definitely lose!

If he were hit in a vital point, he felt that he wouldn't just be bruised here and there, but would be broken here and there!