Chapter 93: The Dragon Soars Too High, Then Repents

The first technique, "Kang Long You Hui," originates from the Qian Hexagram of the I Ching: "Kang Long, You Hui."

The Commentary says: "Kang Long, You Hui—excess cannot last."

Sitting cross-legged wherever he was, the doctrine of the first technique of the Eighteen Dragon-Slaying Palms surfaced in Zhang Jie’s mind.

"Kang" means supreme might, supreme majesty, utmost height and strength.

A divine dragon soars extremely high, claws and fangs bared, terrifyingly powerful.

Yet at this very moment, its might has reached its peak; henceforth, it can only recede, not advance.

This "Hui" character means understanding that "after extreme strength comes decline."

A great ship, when sailing with favorable winds and currents, full sails stretched forward,

easily strikes rocks and capsizes. In conduct and action, one must always leave room for maneuver.

Zhang Jie carefully recalled, savoring every word Hong Qigong had taught Guo Jing.

"This martial art is profound and unfathomable—neither purely hard nor purely soft,

but skillfully blending Confucian and Daoist philosophy."

After a while, Zhang Jie gained a slight understanding of the Eighteen Dragon-Slaying Palms.

"Qi enters the dantian, flows through Changqiang, travels to Yaoshu... Lique, Jingqu, to the palm."

Zhang Jie stood up, left leg slightly bent, right arm curled inward,

right foot planted on the Qian position, left palm tracing a circle, right palm pushing outward.

"Ang!"

A figure like a bull’s bellow, a dragon’s roar, emerged as Zhang Jie slowly pushed his palm forward.

Zhou Zhiruo, practicing Spiral Nine Shadows, was startled; she fixed her gaze.

She saw a golden, scaled, horned dragon-shaped qi swirling around Zhang Jie’s hand.

"Kang Long You Hui!"

Knowing the moment had come, Zhang Jie thrust his palm forward.

"Ang!"

The dragon-shaped qi shot forth like lightning, crossing dozens of meters in an instant, striking a century-old tree.

"Boom!"

As if a high-yield bomb had exploded, the massive tree—requiring several men to encircle—was instantly severed at the trunk, wood chips flying everywhere.

"Sssss!"

The flying wood chips, like arrows, sliced through the underbrush blocking the path,

other trees were riddled like honeycombs, the area within twenty meters a scene of utter devastation.

"How is this even possible for a human?"

Watching this astonishing sight, Zhou Zhiruo’s cherry lips hung open in disbelief.

"Ha ha! Who in this world can stand against me?"

Zhang Jie laughed, triumphant and satisfied.

Under this palm, whether it was the Yin-Yang Elders or Tibetan lamas,

all would be reduced to dust, by heaven!

For a moment, Zhang Jie felt invincible.

"Hmm, no—there’s still one person. I probably, maybe, perhaps, should still not be his match."

Thinking of that hundred-year-old Daoist who cultivated while others trained in martial arts,

Zhang Jie realized he still couldn’t boast like this.

Otherwise, he’d be humiliated later when his words came back to bite him.

"Moreover, while the power is immense, the consumption is too great."

Gazing at his dantian, at least a third depleted, Zhang Jie felt like crying.

With this palm technique, he could strike at most three times.

And with his palm speed—he could unleash several palms per second—

meaning he could sustain full power for no more than three seconds…

Zhang Jie became the Sad Frog: the short-lived one is me?

"Forget it, forget it—I’ll control the power from now on.

This time, I thought only of 'Kang,' not 'Hui'—I didn’t hold back six-tenths of my strength."

Zhang Jie silently resolved within himself.

"Jie-gege, are you alright?"

Seeing Zhang Jie’s pale face, anxious Zhou Zhiruo rushed over to check on him.

"I’m fine, just a bit drained."

Zhang Jie explained.

"No, I must examine you thoroughly."

Having heard from other senior sisters that men are stubborn and refuse to admit weakness,

Zhou Zhiruo immediately clasped Zhang Jie’s head and began checking him.

"Ssshh!"

Zhang Jie gasped as if in paradise.

"Let the storm come even fiercer!"

Zhang Jie cried out inwardly.

At this moment, his slight weakness meant nothing.

After all, his half-century of cultivation still left him with a full century after losing thirty years—

he could crush the entire Emei Sect without trouble.

His earlier weakness was merely because he released too much power at once, causing his meridians to tremble slightly.

If cultivation energy were a reservoir and martial arts a pump,

then he had just over-pumped, drawing out too much water at once,

overburdening the waterways—the Eight Extraordinary Meridians.

But these were minor matters: even in his excitement,

he would never truly injure himself.

He had merely slightly exceeded his inner power’s limit.

Under the healing power of his perfected Nine Yang Divine Art, his meridians were already nearly restored…

Meanwhile, the immense afterwave of Zhang Jie’s palm echoed throughout the entire Emei Sect.

"What happened?"

"What should we do?"

A group of startled Emei disciples grew flustered.

They had spent years in the sect but had never encountered anything like this.

"Don’t panic—first report to Master. Let her decide."

As the disciples stood helplessly, Ding Minjun stepped forward.

"Yes, Senior Sister Ding is right—let’s report to Master first."

As the long-standing senior disciple, Ding Minjun commanded great respect,

and the Emei disciples readily agreed with her suggestion.

"No need. I’ve already emerged from seclusion."

Just as Ding Minjun was about to summon Abbess Jingue,

Abbess Jingue emerged, her face as grim as ever.

She had merely secluded herself to study the Nine Yin Scripture—not sealed herself away.

Such a massive disturbance could not escape her ears.

"Master!"

"Master!"

The Emei disciples instantly felt reassured upon seeing Abbess Jingue,

their panic vanishing from their faces.

Even Ding Minjun breathed a sigh of relief.

"Master, shall we go together?"

Ding Minjun suggested.

"No need. I’ll go alone. You all strengthen your vigilance."

Abbess Jingue waved her hand.

Whoever or whatever caused such a disturbance,

was beyond the capability of any ordinary Emei disciple except her.

If the intruder was hostile, taking them along would only mean death.

Better to keep them at Emei—then they could flee or surrender with more options.

"Yes, Master."

Ding Minjun, though inwardly resentful, could only obediently follow orders.

As for the other Emei disciples, they followed Abbess Mei Jue’s commands without question.

Abbess Mei Jue gave a few final instructions and hurried toward the source of the sound.

“Could it be the imperial court has invaded?”

Abbess Mei Jue speculated with a grim expression.

Such a thunderous explosion could only be produced by a massive pile of imperial fire bombs.

Upon arriving at the scene, Abbess Mei Jue’s gaze was immediately drawn to the snapped trees and the chaotic surroundings.

Yet no matter how hard she searched, she could not find any suspicious individuals.

Then, as her eyes swept across the area, she spotted Zhang Jie and the other person, entangled in intimate closeness.

“This—this, in broad daylight? What kind of conduct is this?”

How could the rigid Abbess Mei Jue possibly tolerate such a sight?

Instantly, a surge of rage shot straight to her mind.

How dare they do such a thing before they’re even married?

Her virtuous disciple would never throw herself at him willingly,

so it must be that wicked boy Zhang Jie using some underhanded trick.

She knew Zhang Jie’s martial skill far surpassed hers,

but that was no excuse for him to disgrace her Emei disciples!

If Zhang Jie knew what Abbess Mei Jue was thinking, he’d surely sing “The Injustice to Dou E.”

Zhang Jie, forced to endure face wash: I’m more wronged than Dou E!

…

“Sorry, Abbess, I just trained too hard by accident.”

Zhang Jie, having spotted Abbess Mei Jue, lazily explained.

“Master!”

Zhou Zhiruo, sensing Abbess Mei Jue’s arrival, sprang to her feet,

tidied her slightly disheveled clothes, and blushed furiously.

“T-T raining?”

The scolding words Abbess Mei Jue had ready instantly died in her throat.

“Yes, Master. Brother Jie was just practicing the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.”

Zhou Zhiruo, her face burning red, vouched for Zhang Jie.

“Uh… uh…”

Abbess Mei Jue was momentarily speechless.

Lady Guo Xiang only said the Heaven-Defying Sword contained the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms—but never said they were this powerful!

If Grandmaster Guo had wielded such palm techniques back then, how could the Yuan ever have breached Xiangyang?

Wouldn’t Kublai Khan have feared Grandmaster Guo slipping into his palace and delivering one palm strike,

shattering him into scattered pieces?

Having ruled out the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms as the issue, the problem must lie with the user.

“What a monster!”

Abbess Mei Jue’s gaze toward Zhang Jie grew far more complex, tinged now with a hint of… awe.

She was also relieved that such a monster was closely tied to her Emei Sect.

“Abbess, is there anything else?”

Zhang Jie, his exploration of mountains and rivers interrupted, spoke with mild annoyance.

“No, no, I’m leaving.”

Abbess Mei Jue, sensing Zhang Jie’s dismissal, came and went in a flash.

“I still prefer your old, defiant self.”

Zhang Jie rubbed his chin, eyes brimming with amusement.

“Sister Zhiruo, let’s continue… hehe.”

Zhang Jie extended his hands once more toward Zhou Zhiruo.

Zhou Zhiruo, who had long considered herself Zhang Jie’s, blushed deeply,

yet made no move to stop him—instead, subtly yielding.

Instantly, this secret haven of Zhou Zhiruo bloomed with springtime warmth…

“Chirp chirp!”

“Ji ji, zha zha!”

The birds, startled earlier but now certain all was safe, returned and closed their eyes…