Chapter 40: Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist

Break his legs…

And still throw him out of Xianyang?

Li Yan understood in an instant why his father had befriended this old man, and why the old man willingly plotted for him.

Perhaps only his father’s bold, open nature could endure this foul-mouthed old man.

Though he grumbled inwardly, he now had no desire to speak.

Without acknowledging Zhang Shi Tong across from him, Li Yan turned and walked to a chair beside him, first unfastening the Guanshan Dao at his waist, then slowly unbuttoning his coat and removing the sleeve knife from his left wrist.

His movements were unhurried, carrying a certain ritualistic air.

“Even the tiger’s sleeve knife has learned to be clever?”

Above, Zhang Yuanshang spotted the short blade and seemed stirred by memory, but quickly noticed Li Yan’s expression; his lips curled into a wry smile, “Interesting…”

In this world, martial artists train to kill.

Most often they relax their posture, never walking like fools with stiff strides to draw attention; when they strike suddenly, it is a thunderclap.

And now, in this duel, neither side had room for ambush, so Li Yan used the few motions of undressing to adjust his state in mere moments.

When he turned again, his eyes gleamed like ice.

On the other side, Zhang Shi Tong had shed his lazy demeanor entirely, silent now, switching his palms, bending his body slightly, crouching with legs staggered front and back, resembling a rooster.

Rooster legs?

Li Yan’s brow tightened; he shifted his stance, turning sideways and assuming his posture.

Those rooster legs are no treat for the enemy.

The Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist emphasizes the tiger’s pounce, the eagle’s grasp, rooster legs, dragon body, bear waist, and tiger’s head embrace—its power spreads far and wide, not idle talk.

Rooster legs are the key to the Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist; speed and power both hinge on them—“Departing intent is like a wind sweeping the ground, timing depends entirely on the rear leg’s push, every step never leaves the rooster leg.”

The most obvious example is the fighting cock.

It leaps, strikes, defends—all in one seamless motion.

Hence the old saying among Heart-Mind Six Harmonies practitioners: “If you don’t train your legs, you’ll be a reckless fool in old age.”

His father, Li Hu, traveled the martial world with rich experience; while alive, he had explained to him all the widely known fist styles.

He had been young then; most boys would have forgotten, but his soul was mature—he had memorized every key detail by heart.

The Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist has many sects, each with its own traits.

For example, Cangzhou’s style is broad and open, Jinzhou’s is compact and cunning, while the Central Plains’ lineage is fierce and ruthless.

Li Yan saw Zhang Shi Tong’s opening stance and knew his lineage came from Jinzhou.

Jinzhou had many wealthy merchant families, so numerous escort agencies gathered there, and the martial arts scene flourished.

When Zhang Shi Tong invited him earlier, he said, “Give three parts smile, yield three parts reason, drink three parts wine”—Li Yan had suspected then, because that was the escort agent’s catchphrase.

Escort agents only fight when human connections fail, but when they do, their strikes are stealthy and cunning, adapted to all environments—hence their fist styles share these traits.

Looks like I must watch for his hidden moves…

As Li Yan’s thought passed, Zhang Shi Tong moved—his front and back legs crossed, a quick step closed the distance.

Li Yan frowned slightly and sidestepped back.

He had heard the Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist never moves the shoulder when striking; now, in actual combat, he felt the trouble—he couldn’t tell what the man intended.

Zhang Shi Tong unleashed his power; this distance meant nothing—his right hand flicked, slashing straight for Li Yan’s eyes.

The palm wind howled, stinging Li Yan’s eyes so sharply he recoiled backward.

But it was only a feint—Zhang Shi Tong’s left hand snapped inward like a nail hammer, stabbing toward Li Yan’s upper abdomen; if it landed, Li Yan would choke like Meng Haicheng.

But Li Yan didn’t enter a duel to be a showpiece.

His right hand flowed naturally to block, then flipped into a claw, seizing Zhang Shi Tong’s wrist.

This was the essence of Red Fist: Deceptive Strike!

Red Fist was never about taking hits—it was agile, and every advance, retreat, strike, or defense prepared for the next attack.

Even when pulling back, you still deceive.

If this grip held, the next move would draw blood!

But Zhang Shi Tong’s move was still a feint.

His left hand slipped like an eel from Li Yan’s grip, then surged forward like a tiger’s pounce, shoulder ramming into Li Yan’s chest.

Their movements were swift as light and shadow, over in a breath.

Li Yan felt his chest crush, as if struck by a wild ox—he flew backward.

Behind him stood the row of chairs.

Just as he was about to strike them, he braced his right foot and used the rebound to execute a backflip—effortlessly landing squarely on the chair.

He crossed his fists to brace himself, as if he’d felt no blow at all.

“Oh, you’re tough, huh…”

Zhang Shi Tong chuckled and stepped forward with a whip kick.

“Brat, don’t break my chair!”

The old man on the armchair grumbled.

But Zhang Shi Tong’s kick was another feint.

He targeted the chair to force Li Yan to jump down.

Sure enough, Li Yan leapt up, sweeping his right leg toward Zhang Shi Tong’s head.

The brat fell for it!

Zhang Shi Tong grinned inwardly, retracting his right leg and launching a skyward kick.

In duels, the lower body must be stable; few dared aerial strikes, for power was hard to generate mid-air, and getting hit meant disaster.

But as soon as he kicked upward, he sensed danger.

In midair, Li Yan twisted his body, snatched his left hand, clamping onto Zhang Shi Tong’s leg, then locked his own legs in a scissor grip around Zhang’s neck.

Li Yan rolled over, channeling his full strength—Zhang Shi Tong flew upward like a pulled radish, upside-down, crashing into the hall’s crossbeam.

This move borrowed from his past-life combat principles, blending Red Fist’s seizing techniques with Nine Rolls and Eighteen Falls.

Zhang Shi Tong took a solid hit; when he landed, he immediately resumed his stance, his smile gone, “What kind of Red Fist is that?”

“The kind that knocks people down!”

Li Yan snorted and charged forward.

He had sensed something wrong—his father Li Hu’s warning echoed in his mind:

“The Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist strikes without moving the shoulder, advances with the hand, mind gives rise to intent, intent transforms into fist—it’s hardest to predict.”

More importantly, its attack style: like water surging in waves!

Once the opponent gains the upper hand, you face relentless, wave-like assaults—defend too long and you’ll collapse, unable to recover.

So he chose to seize the initiative.

“Good!”

Zhang Shi Tong didn’t flinch—he grinned, leaping forward with rooster steps, raising his fist for the heart-strike.

But this punch was only a feint.

As Li Yan swung his right hand to deflect it, Zhang Shi Tong retracted both palms inward, then thrust outward sharply.

Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Fist: Double Palm!

Forward strike is tiger’s pounce; upward diagonal strike to the chin is old ape hanging seal, white ape offering peach.

!.

Zhang Shi Tong aimed for Li Yan’s chin.

A solid hit would knock him unconscious.

But at that moment, Li Yan’s neck snapped back, he shifted his shoulder, slid his left foot forward—closing the distance.

Distance is the key to combat.

That tiny step gave Li Yan enough room to raise his hand and block, exposing Zhang Shi Tong’s opening; his shoulder shook, and his right palm struck out violently.

Zhang Shi Tong’s vision was blocked—he couldn’t see the palm strike below.

Red Fist’s Thirty-Six Palm Techniques: Flower Hidden Beneath Leaves!

Zhang Shi Tong had paid it no mind.

He only needed to retract his wrist to avoid being seized.

Worst case—he’d take a palm.

If seized, whether by Red Fist’s kite-shoulder or sword-sling kick, one hit would end the match.

But as Li Yan’s palm pressed down, Zhang Shi Tong’s face turned pale.

No time to react—a powerful force slammed him again, hurling him backward with a crash into a pillar, then sliding down.

“Internal force?!”

Above, Zhang Yuanshang stood up.

He was clearly surprised, yet not worried.

“Hitting like hanging a painting”—looks fierce, but the hand was held back.

If he’d used yin force to strike the heart, that would be a kill.

Sure enough, Zhang Shi Tong rose immediately, his face darkening, “Good kid, no more holding back!”

He too had entered internal force—barely mastered, like Li Yan, unable to make his power flow effortlessly or twist a hundred ways.

But using it versus not using it was a world apart.

“Stop!”

Zhang Yuanshang sat back down on his grand armchair and waved his hand. “No deep grudge here. Save your strength for the arena.”

“Boy, don’t worry about anything else—I’ll handle it. They won’t cheat on the arena, but whether you win or not depends on you.”

Zhang Shi Tong also brushed the dust off his clothes and said, “Zhou Bai is young, but stronger than me. If you can’t break through the ‘circle’ of his Monkey Fist, you won’t stand a chance.”

“Thank you!”

Li Yan bowed slightly, picked up his clothes, and walked away.

He had achieved his purpose here.

First, Zhang Yuanshang had promised to arrange the arena and ensure no surprises.

Second, the old man had indirectly warned him.

Zhou Bai’s skill level should be roughly equal to Zhang Shi Tong’s.

But one is twenty-seven or twenty-eight, while the other is only seventeen—their potential is vastly different.

This life-or-death match might not require the Great Luo Body.

Watching him leave the martial arts hall, Zhang Shi Tong had lost his earlier agitation. He frowned, his dead-fish eyes fixed on Li Yan. “There’s a bit of Li Hu’s bearing in him. At such a young age, he’s already mastered hidden force. No wonder he’s so arrogant…”

“But Father, Zhou Bai probably has the edge. You’re gambling here!”

“Of course I’m gambling!”

Zhang Yuanshang drew a few puffs from his water pipe and said calmly:

“Who in this life doesn’t gamble a few times? Zhou Pan has already linked up with Chang’an. If we don’t gamble now, we’ll never get another chance…”

“What if we lose?”

“I’ve already lost once. Worst case, I lose my face and keep cursing. This time it’s yours—if you lose, go quietly to Cangzhou…”

“This… this isn’t fair!”

“A son talks fairness to his father? You’re asking for a beating!”

…………

“How was it? How was it?”

Sha Li Fei and Wang Daoxuan waited at the street corner.

Seeing Li Yan emerge, they hurried forward to ask.

“All arranged.”

Li Yan paused, then said, “Gentlemen, though Old Man Zhang has given his word, those Iron Knife Gang thugs are bottom-feeders. The incident at the graveyard was likely their doing—they might still pull dirty tricks. Don’t wander off these two days.”

“Also, I need something.”

“What?”

“Qin-Han War Drum!”

(End of Chapter)