Chapter 705: Grand Master Battle

Kong Hui’s audacity is truly remarkable!

This is not some remote prefecture where the emperor’s reach is weak.

When the dragon vein was tampered with, Emperor Xiao Qixuan flew into a rage, and nearly every elite from the Xuan Men to the imperial court was mobilized.

This force alone could topple any orthodox sect lineage.

Moreover, even the Three Grand Masters have been dispatched.

Even Earth Immortals must avoid their sharp edge, yet he dares to blend into the crowd and watch the spectacle.

Where does this man get his nerve?

Li Yan roared, stomped the ground with force, and with a thunderous crash, collapsed the surrounding wall as he shot forward like an arrow.

What he didn’t know was that Kong Hui was also silently cursing his luck.

This old devil had once served as imperial tutor to the Song Dynasty, read countless texts, and mastered numerous strange secret arts, including construction and disguise.

The earlier “living pillar” technique came from Lu Ban’s methods, the “yin body well” from the Song Dynasty’s Ghost Sect, the “cat ghost tomb” from the Jiangzuo heretical path…

It was he who provided these secret arts, enabling the capital’s plan to proceed.

He had not yet met Zhao Qingxu last night, so he knew nothing of what had transpired.

Seeing the imperial forces mobilize en masse, he disguised himself and came to investigate.

But all this hinged on Li Yan and his allies destroying the “Peach Banquet” and Iron Anchor Society’s traitorous branches, severing their intelligence network.

Kong Hui carried the national sacrificial artifact and believed himself invulnerable, unaware that Li Yan’s Gou Die was equally extraordinary.

One might say it was a twist of fate,

Or that it was destiny all along!

Seeing Li Yan charging toward him, Kong Hui no longer concealed himself.

He sneered coldly, snatched off his wide-brimmed hat and flung it sharply.

Boom!

The hat exploded violently, releasing a cloud of pink dust that instantly filled the entire street.

The bystanders gathered around were immediately caught in the fallout.

The dust wasn’t highly toxic, but it caused streaming tears, runny noses, and uncontrollable coughing.

The crowd panicked, clutching their eyes, coughing, stumbling left and right, leading to trampling, screams, and wails echoing endlessly.

The chaos blocked the soldiers’ attempts to encircle.

Normally, the imperial army might have been helpless—but this time, they were acting in concert with the Enforcement Hall.

“Clear the wind!”

Luo Mingzi roared, and with several Daoists, they swung their ritual swords in unison, stepped the Nine Palaces, and ignited yellow talismans.

“Heaven’s Dao harmonizes with virtue, sun and moon unite in brightness… True Wind dispels, descend like clouds!”

“Wind emerges from Gen’s corner, earth’s gate deploys troops… Xun’s path ahead, summon fierce gales!”

This was the “Great Wind-Dispelling Art,” a Xuan Men technique specifically designed to counter toxic fumes.

As the incantation chanted, all their ritual swords pointed toward the Xun direction.

Whoosh—!

Instantly, a violent wind swept the street, scattering the toxic dust completely.

At the same moment, Li Yan leapt down onto the street.

Around him, screams continued—civilians clutched their chests, coughing violently; others wailed over broken legs crushed underfoot.

He looked left and right—there was no trace of Kong Hui!

He immediately activated the Yang Seal, but could not detect the man’s scent, nor could his Gou Die respond.

Li Yan felt a pang of regret.

He had been so caught up in triumph that he forgot Kong Hui was still a Grand Master, with an eerily superior body technique.

Without hesitation, Li Yan gripped his blade and leapt upward, lightly tapping the wall before landing on the inn’s rooftop.

From this elevated vantage, every surrounding street was clearly visible.

Looking out, every street was packed with soldiers; Commandant’s Office experts leapt onto rooftops with firelocks; Enforcement Hall Daoists and monks each chanted spells to scan the area—so tightly sealed that even a mosquito could not escape.

“Where is he?”

“Quick, release the spirit hounds!”

“Search house by house!”

Luo Mingzi’s gaze was sharp as he barked orders.

The capital’s defenses truly surpassed those of any other region.

Yet Kong Hui’s figure remained unseen.

Boom!

At that moment, a muffled crash echoed from afar.

Li Yan looked up and saw a warehouse roof near Zhaoyangmen collapse violently beyond the encirclement.

“Stay!”

A cold, authoritative voice rang out, followed by another thunderous boom as the inn’s wall crumbled.

A gale howled, and dust in midair coalesced into a massive fist.

Externalized divine force—this was a Grand Master!

Li Yan already suspected who it was; without hesitation, he leapt into the air.

He stepped across rooftop tiles, using the Divine Step Technique, leaping through the air several times before arriving near the inn.

The inn was half-collapsed, its beams propping up one remaining wall, swaying precariously.

Around it, many wounded cried out in pain.

Amid the settling dust on the street, two figures stood facing each other.

One wore a black Confucian robe, his eyes faintly glowing red—it was Master Ruandu, Kong Hui.

Opposite him stood a towering figure like an iron tower, arms crossed.

Merely standing there, he radiated a storm-and-thunder aura, squarely blocking Kong Hui’s only escape route.

It was Huo Yin, one of the Ten Grand Masters of Shenzhou, head of the Great Xuan Divine Fist Society!

Li Yan had already gripped his Gou Die when suddenly his heart lurched—he turned to look around.

On the left rooftop, an old man had appeared without warning: wearing a black front-buttoned shirt, slender frame, robes fluttering gently in the breeze.

The old man was aged, his hair snow-white, yet his eyes were profoundly deep, his aura completely concealed, as if merged with the flowing air around him.

Standing with hands behind his back, his form seemed ethereal, unstable.

Dong Changxing of the Bagua Sect!

Li Yan instantly recognized him—and his scalp prickled.

The only Grand Master he had ever seen was Cheng Jianxian of Shu.

Unfortunately, the man had severed his own path to divinity, reduced to a flickering candle in the wind; he had only revealed his Sword Immortal prowess once, when blocking Lu Sheng.

Only now did Li Yan truly witness the power of a Grand Master.

Huo Yin stood like a mountain, steady and profound, his invisible pressure spreading like palace walls blocking the way.

Dong Changxing gave the impression of wind sweeping clouds, free and formless.

On the right high wall, another figure stood.

His features were sharp, his temples streaked with white, his robe as white as snow, holding a great spear like a proud pine, posture upright and defiant.

His blood qi surged violently—Li Yan even smelled the scent of fire scorching the air.

Without doubt, this was Wan Shengying, Grand Master and overall commander of the Thirteen Provinces Escort Guild!

Their three demeanors differed utterly, yet they moved in perfect harmony, completely severing Kong Hui’s chance of escape.

In this brief span, imperial guards, Commandant’s Office experts, and Enforcement Hall adepts kept arriving, forming an iron wall of encirclement.

Even Sha Li Fei crouched on a rooftop, raising his Divine Fire Gun.

Seeing this, Li Yan narrowed his eyes and released his grip on the Gou Die.

Summoning the Yin Bureaucracy’s troops could send Kong Hui to the Underworld, but he had no intention of using it.

The “Jianmu” organization’s shadowy master likely came from the Dala Fa Realm.

Being cast into the Yin Bureaucracy might not be secure enough.

Thus, whether it was Lu Sheng in Shu or Wang Xuanmo in Luoyang, he had chosen to forgo rewards and annihilated them utterly.

Divine Gang energy was important, but if these ancient devils escaped and returned to life, they would become grave future threats.

Let the Grand Masters kill him—it saves me the trouble…

……

Before the ruined warehouse, dust still hung in the air, but silence had already settled over the long street.

Kong Hui stood amid the rubble, red light flickering in his eyes like a cornered beast, fixed on Huo Yin ahead.

At that moment, Pei Zongti arrived on horseback, shouting: “Three Masters, spare him alive!”

Li Yan heard this, frowned slightly, but made no move to interfere.

Killing him outright might indeed be inappropriate.

This was their first time trapping a “Jianmu” expert—perhaps they could extract some intelligence.

Facing this hopeless situation, Kong Hui remained calm, a mocking smile curling his lips: “The hounds have all come out—quite the spectacle.”

Then, suddenly, he shouted: “Too bad, you’ve overlooked one thing—the Longxu Gully holds poison sacs. Without my antidote, they’ll detonate within half an hour—then the capital will be in chaos, every household draped in white silk, no drinkable water for decades!”

“What?!”

“Go check immediately!”

Pei Zongti’s face darkened, and he gave the order at once.

Longxu Gou, located southeast of the capital outside the city walls, connects with tributaries of the Hai River, the Beiyun River, the Tonghui River, and the southern city moat, flowing through multiple parts of the city before emptying into the moat beyond Yongding Gate—it is a vital waterway of the capital.

If something happens, the scene that follows is easy to imagine.

Huo Yin’s gaze was like an ancient frozen pool as he spoke coldly: “Today, you will not leave.”

Kong Hui let out a silent laugh, then straightened his posture and bowed respectfully: “All I seek is a fair and honorable Master-level duel!”

“No outsiders may interfere! If I lose, I surrender willingly—see if you dare seize this one chance.”

A Master-level duel?

Many around them heard this and began whispering among themselves.

“Master” signifies both a cultivation realm and a title of honor.

Though Shenzhou is filled with countless experts, only ten have ever borne the title of Master.

This is not mere flattery from outsiders—it is earned through actual combat records, ultimately decided by Master duels.

Kong Hui was one of the Ten Masters during the Song Dynasty; calling this a Master duel is no exaggeration.

This despicable blackmail caused all three Masters to frown simultaneously.

“Gentlemen, we cannot let him go!” Pei Zongti ordered sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Yet the three Masters paid him no heed.

Dong Changxing shook his head slightly and stroked his beard: “This old man is aged—I fear I might stumble. You two decide as you please.”

Before Huo Yin could speak, Wan Shengying snapped coldly: “Is this what a senior Master is? Just a petty trickster. I, Wan, will test his mettle first!”

Before his words ended, Wan Shengying’s massive frame swelled violently, his tendons and bones cracking like popping beans.

“Roar—!”

A dragon’s roar rose as Wan Shengying’s great spear instantly transformed into a coiling dragon descending from above.

Between Masters, harmony is often lacking.

Wan Shengying was a giant of the Jianghu; Huo Yin was a powerhouse suppressing the imperial fortune.

They had always looked down on each other; Wan Shengying naturally did not wish Huo Yin to steal the spotlight.

The red tassel of the great spear carved a graceful arc through the air, then became a colossal dragon, jaws wide, lunging down from above.

This power was nothing short of divine or demonic.

Below, Kong Hui remained utterly still, merely lifting his gaze.

In his pupils, crimson light blazed fiercely—the spear-dragon instantly dissolved into dust.

Above, Wan Shengying had not moved his feet, his spear still resting across his back.

It seemed the attack had been nothing but an illusion.

The entire street stood stunned.

This power utterly surpassed their comprehension.

Li Yan frowned slightly, lost in thought.

He recalled how Cheng Jianxian had once killed from afar using nothing but sword intent, stirring the Gang Sha Qi.

Wan Shengying’s strike now was likewise an expression of spear intent, stirring Sha Qi, producing effects akin to illusion.

As far as he knew, Wan Shengying was purely a martial artist, not a sorcerer.

To achieve such an effect, it seemed that after reaching the physical limit of a martial artist, one must train the mind.

Leaving aside his thoughts, the situation on the field shifted again.

“Such minor tricks cannot touch this old man.”

Kong Hui glanced dismissively, his voice a rasping chuckle.

As he spoke, his left hand within his sleeve had already formed a strange talismanic seal.

“As you wish!”

Wan Shengying ceased his probing and instead drove his great spear straight into the wall.

As he drew a deep breath, his muscles swelled violently, his white robe flapping like thunder.

Shhh!

His figure vanished, reappearing instantly above Kong Hui, his right arm snapping open like a drawn bow, crashing down.

Before his fist, a vortex of Gang Qi churned, whipping the street into a gale that tore the cloth banners of vendors on both sides into shreds!

Excellent Wan Sheng Fist!

Seeing this, Li Yan’s heart tightened.

The Wan Sheng Fist was created by Wan Shengying himself.

Originally obscure in the Jianghu, it spread rapidly after he took many disciples and gained his Master status.

Li Yan had fought disciples of the Wan Sheng Fist before and knew much of its methods.

The Wan Sheng Fist is an internal martial art—simple, dignified, fluid, each movement emphasizing “whole-body power.”

All techniques are linked into continuous combinations, blending speed and slowness, hardness and softness—usable as a sequence or broken apart for individual application.

It stresses that no punch is wasted, no hand returns empty; linked strikes chain together, so that once struck, the next follows inevitably.

Highly practical, it spread widely.

Wan Shengying himself had clearly reached a higher realm.

One strike—Iron Chain Blocking the River—struck straight at the center, his fist’s Gang Qi churning like a river appearing out of thin air.

The Gang Qi and the fist technique complemented each other, fused into perfect harmony.

For a moment, Li Yan gained new inspiration regarding the fusion of his own martial and magical paths.

Indeed, watching a Master fight always yields insight.

“Hmph!”

Below, Kong Hui laughed coldly, his body twisting like a paper effigy tossed by funeral winds, drifting sideways three feet.

Simultaneously, his left hand within the sleeve continued forming the seal, while his right hand extended, fingers like a brush, as if dipping ink and painting a single, light stroke.

His movement was astonishingly swift—appearing to the crowd as instantaneous teleportation.

Kong Hui had become a Master in the first place due to his footwork; this was unsurprising.

But his martial art was deeply strange.

Where his fingers passed, black mist spread instantly, howling mournfully—as if he were truly painting ink upon the air.

Is this the “Historical Pen Piercing the Heart Sword”?

Kong Shangzhao, who knew Kong Hui’s origins, had once explained his martial art to them.

Originally skilled in Confucian martial arts, after falling into darkness, he abandoned the Confucian righteous Qi, inverted “uphold heavenly principle, extinguish human desire” into “plant human desire, erode heavenly principle,” using the Eight Sufferings—unfulfilled longing, separation from loved ones—as foundation, feeding on mortal resentment to forge a new, demonic martial art called “Yin Wen Ba Gu.”

Each technique’s name derived from Confucian classics: “The Book of Rites: Funeral Hand,” “The Book of Documents: Yin Whip of Pan Geng,” “The Spring and Autumn Annals: Historical Pen Piercing the Heart Sword…” each suited palm, fist, or finger techniques.

The finger technique he used now was surely the “Spring and Autumn Annals: Historical Pen Piercing the Heart Sword.”

As Kong Hui flicked his fingers like ink, Yin Sha and resentful Qi formed invisible needles, stabbing straight at Wan Shengying’s fist’s vital point.

This move struck first despite being initiated later—Wan Shengying felt his fist collide with ice older than a thousand years; his mighty force cracked open under erosion.

“Interesting!”

Wan Shengying, intrigued by this unseen martial art, remained calm, even amused.

He smiled faintly, shifting his fist’s power from hardness to softness.

As he tilted his body, his left fist shot out like a serpent from its hole, tendons bulging on the back of his hand, the air around it solidifying into a hammer that slammed toward Kong Hui’s wrist.

The technique was called “Spiritual Turtle Shaking Armor”—Li Yan had seen it before.

This method of sudden transformation was precisely the essence of Wan Sheng Fist’s “linked strikes.”

No punch wasted, no hand returned empty—once one move is broken, another lethal strike follows instantly.

Two forces of Gang and Sha clashed violently!

“Bang—sssshh!”

Where fist met palm, a metallic clang exploded!

Wan Shengying’s fist Qi blazed like the sun; Kong Hui’s resentful Qi from his fingers boiled like ink, beginning to shatter under the assault.

Indeed…

Seeing this, Li Yan had already guessed.

Though Kong Hui had once been a Master, his multiple reincarnations meant his current body was no longer at its peak.

Like a screw and its nut—each soul can only fully unleash its potential within a suitable body.

Kong Hui’s body was a stolen vessel, already aged, so his power slightly lagged behind Wan Shengying’s.

This battle should be no problem…

But something shocked Li Yan.

Kong Hui’s fingers suddenly retracted, his entire arm whipping like a lash, ignoring the fist’s Gang Qi, riding the momentum upward.

Moreover, his eyes blazed crimson.

In an instant, Wan Shengying was flooded with illusions:

He saw scholars in the Song imperial examination hall slamming their heads against pillars, brains and ink splattering the sky.

This was the suffering of unattainable desire…

He saw a young bride seated in an empty bridal chamber, her wedding gown dissolving into a storm of funeral paper money fluttering through the air.

This is the suffering of parting from loved ones…

He saw the Hanlin elder being beaten to death by court rods, vermilion annotations soaking into white bone.

This is the suffering of meeting with what one hates…

All these illusions, like human sorrows, struck at his spirit.

Wan Shengying’s fist momentum instantly stalled.

“Roar!” In a flash, Wan Shengying let out a furious bellow and changed his fist path.

He arched his back like an iron plank, flipped midair like a kite, and swept his left leg like a steel whip, executing the move “Kui Xing Kicks the Dipper.”

As Kong Hui dodged, Wan Shengying’s right palm shifted into a cleaving axe, striking straight for the crown of the head.

This was the linked triple deadly strike: Slash, Drill, Crush!

Where the fist wind passed, a vortex of fierce Gang Sha spiraled upward; stone mortars by the roadside shattered into powder from the residual force!

Yet Kong Hui seemed to have anticipated it all along.

He stepped the Nine Palaces Step, his form flickering seven times within a tiny space.

Wan Shengying’s linked deadly strikes seemed to pierce straight through his body, yet only brushed shadows.

No good!

Li Yan saw this and silently cursed.

They had seen this move before—it was the Coffin-Bearing Step.

Stepping the Nine Palaces according to funeral directions, it used the “three transformations” of “lifting the coffin, guiding the soul, lowering the grave” to confuse the opponent.

Back then, it had even dodged firearms—truly terrifying.

Using his body skill to seize the upper hand, Kong Hui pressed his advantage; his black robe fluttered like funeral banners, while his left hand curled into a hook, palm Ningju black mist of grievous Sha , forming the yin seal character “Li” and pressing it Xukong onto Wan Shengying’s waist!

“Pfft!”

Wan Shengying’s waist and abdomen clothing shattered instantly; a spot of ink rapidly spread into a dark circular stain.

A chilling, bone-eroding energy slithered like a venomous snake into his meridians; half his body went numb!

He gasped in shock, tapped his toes lightly, and retreated swiftly.

Amid the dust, Kong Hui did not pursue, only sneered: “Top Ten Masters?”

“It seems modern men fall short of the ancients…”

(End of Chapter)