Chapter 88: Fist Is Power!

“Mm.”

The instant Zhang Jie’s internal energy entered her body,

Mistress Mei Jue realized her own internal energy instantly became as docile as sheep encountering a ferocious tiger.

“Such pure internal energy!”

Mistress Mei Jue was deeply shocked.

If her internal energy were cotton,

then Zhang Jie’s internal energy was iron—forged a thousand times, refined a hundred times.

A single unit of Zhang Jie’s internal energy could effortlessly crush ten units of hers!

Even more terrifying was that the moment her internal energy touched his,

it vanished instantly, like rivers flowing into the sea, or milk blending with water.

If Zhang Jie wished, he could completely dissolve—or even seize—her entire cultivation!

“This man must never be opposed by force!”

Mistress Mei Jue felt Zhang Jie was the nemesis of their Emei Sect.

Zhang Jie knew nothing of Mistress Mei Jue’s thoughts,

and even if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared—he continued channeling energy to heal her.

Under the combined power of the Nine Yang Divine Art, the Northern Dark Divine Art, and the One Yang Finger,

Mistress Mei Jue’s minor injuries vanished like snow melting under sunlight.

Soon after, Zhang Jie rose calmly, composed and serene.

Mistress Mei Jue remained seated, eyes closed, restoring her internal energy.

“Zhang Jie brother, is my master alright?”

Zhou Zhiruo asked anxiously.

Zhang Jie raised an eyebrow: “With me involved, isn’t it as easy as catching a fish?”

“Zhang Jie brother is the strongest!”

Zhou Zhiruo’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she gazed at Zhang Jie.

In that moment, in her heart, Zhang Jie was the legendary hero who descended from the heavens, stepping on a rainbow-colored auspicious cloud.

Hmm, this story was told to her by Zhang Jie when he played the role of a literary courier.

Zhang Jie: I don’t produce literature—I merely transport it.

“Zhang Jie brother.”

“Zhi Ruo sister.”

Without realizing it, their figures drew closer.

“Cough! Cough!”

At that moment, Mistress Mei Jue coughed inappropriately twice.

She was just meditating, not dead—how could these two young people be so inconsiderate of their surroundings!

“Master, are you alright?”

Zhou Zhiruo, fearing Mistress Mei Jue had suffered another setback, asked worriedly.

Mistress Mei Jue opened her eyes and spoke with regained strength:

“Your master is fine.”

She looked at Zhang Jie with a complex expression: “Thank you this time.”

Zhang Jie waved his hand dismissively:

“Master, you speak too modestly—this is what I ought to do.”

He had already confirmed his relationship with Zhou Zhiruo,

so Mistress Mei Jue was, in effect, his future mother-in-law—he dared not offend her too greatly.

Otherwise, trouble in the household would be disastrous.

Of course, if Mistress Mei Jue continued to be unreasonable,

Zhang Jie would show her what a truly fist-sized punch felt like.

“Are you using Wudang’s Nine Yang Technique?”

Mistress Mei Jue asked further.

Although Zhang Jie’s martial art was more profound and purer than Emei’s Nine Yang Technique,

the sense of shared origin between the two could not be erased.

“Hmm…”

Zhang Jie’s eyes darted—he had no intention of revealing the secret of the Nine Yang Divine Art—so he nodded:

“Yes.”

In truth, this wasn’t even a lie—his Wudang Nine Yang had already merged with the Nine Yang Divine Art.

And the Wudang Nine Yang Technique, revised by Zhang Sanfeng, had granted the Nine Yang Divine Art additional abilities,

such as the yin-yang harmony and water-fire fusion that Zhang the old Daoist originally pioneered.

The fused Nine Yang Divine Art was now perfectly balanced, no longer suffering the flaw it once had:

after exhausting immense energy, it no longer caused the practitioner to collapse and die.

Zhang Sanfeng’s master, Master Jueyuan, had died from exhaustion after defeating several powerful opponents.

“That old Daoist grows ever more inscrutable.”

Mistress Mei Jue sighed inwardly.

Though profound martial arts do extend lifespan—even first-rate experts in their sixties can still move with agility,

Zhang Sanfeng, over a hundred years old, remained vibrant,

even appearing to grow younger with age—a phenomenon unheard of.

Mistress Mei Jue glanced at Zhang Jie again:

“Now there are two such anomalies—and both are in Wudang!”

Though rumors circulated in the martial world that young talents like Song Qingshu possessed strength rivaling veteran elders,

this merely meant they could match a sect’s senior elder.

It certainly did not include masters of her caliber—leaders of major sects like herself!

Based on the information leaked from Wudang’s last martial demonstration,

Mistress Mei Jue estimated Song Qingshu would need at least twenty years to reach her current level.

Yet Zhang Jie, under twenty, with only a few years of martial training,

had crushed her effortlessly—truly an anomaly unseen in a hundred years of the martial world!

Hmm, the previous anomaly, Zhang Sanfeng, was already over a hundred…

This touched upon a fundamental martial principle: martial arts are not better learned the younger.

Children’s bodies are undeveloped, their minds incomplete.

Training too early leads to errors, hinders growth, and may cause stunted development or dwarfism.

The usual age to begin martial training is around twelve:

at which point the body is nearly mature yet still retains growth potential,

and the mind is sufficiently developed to understand scriptures under an elder’s guidance without major mistakes.

Before twelve, one typically studies literature, learns characters, and cultivates virtue.

Of course, wealthy families also use precious herbs and medicinal baths to enhance potential.

Meaning Zhang Jie, at nineteen, had trained for less than seven years.

“Come to think of it, should I return to Wudang soon?”

After placating Mistress Mei Jue, Zhang Jie fell into thought.

By his calculations, Master Sanfeng had likely already created the “Pure Yang Ultimate Art!”

Intrigued, Zhang Jie felt he could not let this divine art slip away.

Moreover, exchanging insights with Master Sanfeng would surely elevate his martial understanding further.

“Alright, once I’ve settled matters with Emei, I’ll return to Wudang.”

Zhang Jie resolved in his heart.

He turned, smiling, and pointed to the Yitian Sword at Mistress Mei Jue’s waist:

“Master, this Yitian Sword?”

First, he should secure the Nine Yin Scripture and other treasures within reach.

Mistress Mei Jue’s gaze darkened, yet she knew she was no match for Zhang Jie;

his refusal to forcibly seize it was already a courtesy to Lady Guo Xiang and Zhou Zhiruo.

“Zhang Jie, take it.”

Mistress Mei Jue unfastened the Yitian Sword from her waist and tossed it to Zhang Jie.

“Thank you, Master.”

Zhang Jie reached out—his hand snatched the Yitian Sword from several meters away as effortlessly as a swallow returning to its nest.

“Crane Grasp and Dragon Pinch!”

Seeing Zhang Jie’s effortless control, Mistress Mei Jue’s pupils contracted.

Controlling Crane and Grasping Dragon sounds profound, but in truth it is merely a technique of using internal force to grasp objects.

Among martial artists of the Jianghu, even the top-tier ones know at least a little of it.

But as for Zhang Jie’s effortless mastery, she had seen only one other person—Zhang Jie’s ancestor, Zhang Sanfeng!

“Shhh!”

Zhang Jie reached out and drew the Yitian Sword, its blade long and elegantly shaped.

The blade gleamed cold and clear, flashing a chilling light under the sun,

unmistakably sharp enough to slice through iron like mud!

With a thought, his vast internal force surged into the Yitian Sword.

“Sssss!”

A white sword qi, over three feet long, flickering like a dragon or a sea serpent, erupted from the sword’s tip.

“Wow!”

Zhou Zhiruo, feeling the bone-chilling edge of the sword qi, clapped her hand over her mouth in shock.

“Three-foot sword qi!”

Mei Jue Shitai was stunned again. As the long-time master of the Yitian Sword,

she naturally knew the sword’s ability to transform internal force into an invincible sword qi.

Yet with her own internal force, even when exerting her full strength, she could produce no more than a few inches of sword qi.

But Zhang Jie, with a casual wave, produced three feet of sword qi—clearly showing the chasm between her and him.

“Brother Zhang Jie, how do we get the secret manual out from inside?”

Zhou Zhiruo, unaware of Zhang Jie’s true depth of power, asked eagerly.

‘Girls really are outgoing!’

Seeing Zhou Zhiruo had forgotten how Mei Jue Shitai had just been beaten senseless by Zhang Jie,

and now chattered excitedly about her beloved, Mei Jue Shitai nearly spat blood again.

‘But perhaps this is better.’

Mei Jue Shitai reconsidered: with Zhou Zhiruo as a bridge,

the Emei Sect had effectively clung to Zhang Jie’s leg.

Even if they didn’t become wildly prominent, at least they were no longer in danger of being wiped out.

Zhang Jie, perceptive and sensing Mei Jue Shitai’s changed attitude, could only sigh:

‘The Jianghu is this ruthless—strength is always right!’

‘Li Chenzhou’s “Fist Is Power” from the Power Sect—truly no lie!’

Mei Jue Shitai had just been ready to smash the lovers apart, but after he punched her a few times,

she not only forgot her earlier words, but now seemed almost willing to go along with it, even pleased.