Chapter 56: One Punch Thrown, Iron Man Nagayoshi

Fengyang County, Immortal Forest Pavilion.

Within the tranquil courtyard surrounded by bamboo groves, Xuan Kong hurried back.

He had been sent by his senior brother, the abbot, to buy a lavish breakfast from the Abode of Immortals, costing a full two Dharma coins.

Usually, they would never be so extravagant, but today they spent the money willingly.

Especially after seeing Changqingzi and Chang'anzi eat with such delight, they were even happier. The three generations of Taoists did not exert any pressure; facing today's finals, Xuanhuan said only four words: "Let nature take its course!"

The other Taoists offered four words of their own.

Xuanyang: "Just do your best."
Xuanyin: "Peace and safety."
Xuansu: "Focus on yourself."
Xuangkong: "Eat well and drink well."

They did not pressure them, nor did they issue harsh commands.

Even though in their hearts they were more panicked than Changqingzi and Chang'anzi, they knew the hardships their disciples had endured along the way. As masters, they should not add any psychological burden to the two youths.

Go into battle light-handed, heedless of success or failure.
Accept gain with joy, accept loss with equanimity.

Hmph!
Even if they had to fake it, they had to put on a brave front.
After all, they belonged to an orthodox Taoist lineage.
They were not like those worldly folk obsessed with winning and losing.

Compared to their elders, Chang'anzi and Changqingzi actually maintained much steadier mindsets. After finishing breakfast, the group set out.

In the viewing stands of the Potian Palace, watching the two disciples descend into the arena, Xuanhuan clenched his fists within his sleeves, Xuangkong continuously sipped tea, Xuanyang stared unblinkingly, Xuanyin endlessly wiped his sword, and Xuansu silently recited scriptures, resembling parents waiting outside an examination hall.

---

The Taoist in green robes presiding over this Daoist Genesis Grand Assembly wasted no words. He ordered the two hundred contestants to step forward, offered a few words of encouragement, and then had them draw lots to randomly assign opponents.

The strength of one's opponent depended entirely on luck.
If your luck was good, you met someone you could defeat and entered the top hundred; if your luck was bad, you met someone you could not beat, and your journey ended there.

Luck was also a part of strength.
It was all karmic affinity—very much in the Taoist way!

Changqingzi and Chang'anzi were fortunate; they did not draw each other and instead took to their respective stages to display their skills.

Chang'anzi carried a heavy sword on his back, making him particularly conspicuous.
As a favorite for the top ten and wielding a special Dharma artifact, he naturally attracted much attention.

On the arena stage, after Chang'anzi and his opponent exchanged bows, the hook-nosed Taoist opposite him spat out a torrent of fire and unclasped the gourd at his waist, releasing two firebirds. Chang'anzi gathered his internal breath into his dantian and threw a powerful punch.

Fist intent, fist momentum, and fist aura were all condensed into a single punch. A howling gale rose across the arena out of nowhere, whipping at his robes.

Amidst a resounding crash, the rain of fire shattered, and the firebirds were injured. Chang'anzi lunged forward with his punch, its remaining momentum unabated and its residual force unspent.

The hook-nosed Taoist deployed a red-skinned gourd, releasing roaring flames, but it was to no avail. The attack was blasted apart by a single punch, erupting into brilliant fireworks. The Taoist's hook nose was broken, blood gushed like pillars, and his body flew backward, tears stinging his eyes from the pain.

Seeing that he was about to fall off the stage, Chang'anzi grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him bodily back onto the platform. He then cupped his fists in salute and said, "I concede the advantage!"

He was poised, elegant, and exceptionally graceful.

The hook-nosed Taoist was utterly convinced and returned the bow before stepping down.

"Haha! He's broken into the top hundred!"

Xuanyang leaped up excitedly, clapping and cheering.
Xuanhuan and the others were also in high spirits.
After a lapse of twenty years, the Seeking Truth Temple finally had disciples once again earn a spot in the Heaven and Earth Academy purely through strength.

Senior Brother Xuanye, your legacy has successors!

Unwittingly, they all glanced at Xuanyang, their faces full of disdain. He had lived for over forty years, yet he was still so lacking in composure. To remain calm in the face of crisis and keep one's expression unchanged even if Mount Tai collapsed before one—that was the true character of a Taoist.

The next moment, Xuanyang jumped up in excitement, laughing heartily and looking immensely proud. "Haha! My disciple got in too!"

Xuanhuan and the others hurriedly looked over, their faces beaming with radiant smiles, showing eight white teeth, and they too couldn't help standing up.

Xuanyang sneered, "That looks so foolish!"
"Don't think I didn't know what you were just thinking."

The other Taoists turned their heads, dagger-like glances piercing through the air.

Xuanhuan said, "Junior Brother Xuanyang, come to my room tonight. You and I will have a heart-to-heart talk by candlelight."
"I suppose you think you've grown wings, truly believing this senior brother can no longer lift his blade!"

Xuyin added, "Count me in!"
Xuangkong chimed in, "And this poor Taoist."
Xuansu said, "I'm going too!"

They were definitely not envious or jealous.
They merely wished to exchange insights on teaching disciples with Junior Brother Xuanyang, and incidentally help him stabilize his temperament so he wouldn't get too full of himself, which would be detrimental to his cultivation. Everything was done with his best interests at heart.

Xuanyang, who had just been boasting to Taoist Feibai: ……

---

The grudges among the elders were unknown to Changqingzi and Chang'anzi. The two arenas were close to each other, so the two youths exchanged a glance and sat cross-legged to regulate their breathing.

Until the next round of drawing lots assigned their opponents.

Facing the top hundred, Chang'anzi did not dare to be careless. He mobilized all his essence, energy, and spirit, striking first and throwing a punch with all his might.

Back when cultivating in the mountains, his martial uncle had once said:

"The Great Dao is simple. No matter what defensive art you study, in the end, it is nothing more than a punch, a sword, a palm, or a saber. Rather than learning those flashy fist techniques and biting off more than you can chew, it is better to first practice basic fist techniques to the realm of perfection, condensing them into a single punch.
Once the foundation is laid well, you can transition to other fist techniques. Naturally, everything will be interconnected, yielding twice the result with half the effort, as if aided by divine power."

Before coming down the mountain, his martial uncle had instructed further:

"When you are out in the world and encounter strife—whether it is mortal combat or a martial contest—never waste time probing. Either don't make a move, or when you do, go all out. Strike like thunder, conquer with speed, and break through the enemy without hesitation.
Once you win, then you can talk about poise and decorum. Everything else is just form, put on for others to see. Victory alone is real."

Chang'anzi had taken these words deeply to heart.
Therefore, during those years in the mountains, aside from the Eight Trigrams Sword, he practiced only the Eight Trigrams Fist.
Throughout the half-month of martial trials, he had never thrown more than a single punch.

A single all-out punch to decide victory and defeat.
Throw one punch to avoid a hundred punches coming your way.

Even when facing the top hundred, he still used just one punch.
Straightforward and direct, without any fancy frills.

A great wind rose on the arena stage, and his fist intent condensed into substance.

The slender Taoist opposite him constricted his pupils, not daring to be negligent. He immediately formed a hand seal with his left hand, and a massive lion phantom appeared beneath his feet. Accompanied by the phantom, he soared into the air, descended fiercely, and stomped down viciously.

The lion roared, likewise launching an all-out attack and lunging fiercely downward.

Not only that, but he also formed another seal with his right hand, causing the lion's aura to surge dramatically as a second head sprouted from its neck.

The twin-headed lion lunged forward aggressively. Chang'anzi's expression remained stern and collected, neither dodging nor evading. No matter how myriad your magical arts may be, I shall break them with a single punch.

His punch arrived, and the lion roared.
After a standoff lasting several breaths, the twin-headed lion shattered.

Simultaneously, Chang'anzi whirled around, his remaining momentum unspent, and struck the Taoist who had suddenly appeared behind him brandishing a measuring ruler, sending him flying.

Reeling from the immense counter-shock of force, Chang'anzi stumbled, retreating three steps—each step sinking heavily into the ground to dissipate the force. Once the churning blood in his body returned to normal, he offered a Taoist cupped-fist salute to his vomiting opponent.

As the ruler-wielding man departed, the arena stage rose higher once more. Chang'anzi stood upon it alone, gazing toward the direction of Floating Cloud Mountain, a surge of heroic spirit welling up within him.

Breaking into the top hundred was only the beginning.
Breaking into the top fifty was not the end either.

He would walk forward step by step, breaking into the top ten until his strength was completely spent, living up to his martial uncle's teachings and bringing renown to his master.
Let the people of Fengyang County remember his master once more.

He, Chang'anzi, was a Taoist of the Seeking Truth Temple and a disciple of Xuanye!

A clanging sound interrupted Chang'anzi's train of thought. He turned his head and saw the iron sword in Changqingzi's hand emitting a joyful hum. After exchanging over thirty blows with his opponent, Changqingzi's entire body erupted with sword intent. With a single sword strike, eight subsidiary sword qi followed, shattering the opponent's magic. The iron sword batted away a silk ribbon Dharma artifact and came to rest against the opponent's snow-white neck.

Immediately realizing that this was merely an illusion, Changqingzi reacted with lightning speed. Using his right foot as a pivot, his body twisted and spun to the left, shifting with fluid agility. He successfully evaded an attack from behind while mercilessly bringing his sword down in a flat slap across his opponent's backside, sending her flying.

Amidst a miserable shriek, the young female Taoist who had just begun to show her brilliance flew out of the arena, landing flat on her face in a most ungainly dog-eats-mud posture.

Feeling the gazes converging from above, her face flushed crimson with mortification, wishing she could die of shame. "How utterly humiliating!"

Thinking of the culprit behind this, she pressed her palms against the ground and scrambled up. While rubbing her smacked rear end with a pained "ouch," she glared fiercely at Changqingzi, baring her little tiger teeth, her cute, chubby face full of rage.

"I... this young lady... this poor Taoist will remember you!"

Changqingzi frowned. "What? A sore loser? If Fellow Daoist is unconvinced, let us fight again in private."

"You!"

Seeing even more gazes turning their way, the female Taoist stamped her foot, desperately enduring the shameful pain—her apricot eyes brimming with tears of grievance—and turned and stalked off.

On the arena stage, Chang'anzi laughed inwardly.

In the viewing stands, Xuanyang grinned broadly, his laughter unbridled. "That's my disciple! He won! He won again! With a disciple like this, what more could a master ask for?"

Suddenly, his scalp tightened. Looking up, he saw a stern-faced, plain-looking middle-aged female Taoist glaring right at him from the second-tier viewing stand. Noting the sect insignia on her disciples' robes and recalling the attire of the chubby-faced female Taoist below, Xuanyang understood.

Thinking that it was completely normal for the other party to feel displeased since his own disciple had won, and wanting to display the magnanimity of a winner, he cracked a wide, brilliant smile and even nodded in greeting to show friendliness.

To his dismay, the female Taoist's gaze grew even sharper!

Xuanyang lowered his head and muttered, "Like master, like disciple; neither can bear to lose."
After a moment of thought, he added, "Female Taoists are truly troublesome."

The next moment, a chill ran through his body again. Looking up, he saw Junior Sister Xuansu smiling faintly at him.

Xuanyang's heart leaped with joy. "It seems Senior Sister agrees with what this poor Taoist said. Great minds think alike."

Xuansu's smile vanished, her eyes turning into daggers.

Xuanyang reacted belatedly, snapped to his senses, and hurriedly lowered his head: You cannot see me.

---

With the tournament past its halfway mark, only the top fifty remained.

Gazing at Changqingzi and Chang'anzi regulating their breath in the arena, the Taoists of the Seeking Truth Temple wore faces of unalloyed pride.

However, extreme joy often begets sorrow.

During the next round of drawing lots:
Changqingzi had poor luck and drew a formidable opponent, and Chang'anzi fared no better, being matched against one of the favorites for the top ten.