Flower Stealing Master

In the blink of an eye, the two had already exchanged several moves. The Shaolin monks were all shocked to see the monastery’s top expert fall into a disadvantage right from the start, their faces paling. Only a few, like Xuan Ci, managed to remain calm.

Jiumozhi was feeling pleased with himself when he suddenly heard a cold chuckle from his opponent. “You claim to have mastered Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques, yet your Great Vajra Fist is nothing extraordinary.”

Jiumozhi’s heart tightened as he hurriedly looked over. He saw Xuan Cheng standing in place, a faint smile on his face, showing no sign of injury.

With his vast experience, Jiumozhi did not waste words. Seizing the moment when his opponent spoke, causing a slight lapse in his True Qi circulation, he flickered forward and unleashed six rapid kicks at Xuan Cheng’s chest. This was the “Shadowless Formless Legs”, one of Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques. The first kick landed, followed closely by the second, like a shadow pursuing the form. The third kick transitioned from shadow to substance, followed immediately by the fourth. This pattern continued until the sixth kick struck. Only then did those with slightly lower martial cultivation react, their faces filled with shock. Jiumozhi had clearly mastered this technique to perfection—perhaps no one in Shaolin could surpass him in this skill.

However, Jiumozhi noticed something strange. His kicks did not land as solidly as they should have. Realizing something was amiss, he did not allow Xuan Cheng any chance to breathe. He immediately launched two finger strikes, sharp and piercing the air—this was ”Pattra Finger”.

Xuan Cheng appeared dazed, not reacting at all, allowing Jiumozhi’s finger force to strike him directly. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Jiumozhi frowned. His intention had been to humiliate Shaolin by using their own 72 Ultimate Techniques against them. Wanting to showcase his skills, he immediately transitioned from the Pattra Finger to a new technique. Despite being unarmed, his movements mimicked a blade—it was ”Burning Wood Saber Style”.

This technique, once mastered, required a practitioner to strike a piece of dry wood eighty-one times without leaving a single mark on its surface. However, the heat generated by the strikes would eventually set the wood aflame. Master Xuan Ku, the teacher of Xiao Feng, had been a master of this skill, but after his passing, no one in Shaolin had successfully inherited it.

Song Qingshu had long been curious about the difference between Jiumozhi’s ”Flaming Blade Art” and Shaolin’s ”Burning Wood Saber Style”. Observing now, with his current level of cultivation, he immediately grasped the key distinction.

‘No wonder in the original story, Jiumozhi lost to Xu Zhu, who had almost no combat experience,’ Song Qingshu mused, shaking his head with a wry smile. Jiumozhi’s internal energy was formidable, but his ”No Phase Technique” was incomplete. When facing the genuine version of ”No Phase Technique”, he suffered a significant disadvantage in internal power. Moreover, since he had boasted about using Shaolin’s arts, he limited himself in combat, making it difficult to break through Xu Zhu’s defenses. By the time he realized his mistake and attempted to use his true mastery—the ”Flaming Blade”—Xu Zhu had already seized one of his hands, preventing him from executing the elusive and ever-changing nature of his technique. In the end, he lost.

Now, Jiumozhi was once again neglecting his superior ”Flaming Blade”, instead opting for the vastly inferior ”Burning Wood Saber”. Song Qingshu couldn’t help but recall a saying from his past life: ”Never show off unnecessarily, or you’ll end up embarrassing yourself.”

Jiumozhi struck with his saber-like palm, landing a solid blow on Xuan Cheng’s right arm with a loud ‘thud’. The disciples of Mount Song Sect secretly sneered—Xuan Cheng, hailed as Shaolin’s greatest expert in two centuries, was repeatedly struck, performing even worse than an average martial artist. The Shaolin monks, however, grew increasingly worried. Given the sheer power of Jiumozhi’s attack, his palm was no less sharp than a steel blade; decapitation or limb severance would require minimal effort.

Yet, Jiumozhi himself was the most shocked of all. Despite landing a direct hit on Xuan Cheng’s arm, the latter remained completely unscathed, while Jiumozhi felt a faint ache in his own palm. His mind raced. ‘Even if he had mastered techniques like the Golden Bell Shield or Iron Shirt, he should not be able to withstand my repeated heavy strikes. What is going on?’

Then it struck him. 

‘Ah! One of Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques—the ”Vajra Body Defending Divine Skill”. It is said that once mastered, the practitioner’s body becomes impervious to blades, spears, fire, and water. Unfortunately, my ”No Phase Technique” cannot replicate such an effect. I always believed this technique was nothing more than a legend, but it seems someone has truly mastered it!’  

Jiumozhi was one of the most knowledgeable martial artists in the world. Within seconds, he formulated a new approach—abandoning attacks on Xuan Cheng’s body and instead targeting his face. He unleashed a flurry of Shaolin techniques: ”Great Wisdom Samadhi Finger,” “Pattra Finger,” “Nirvana Grab,” “Indra’s Grab””—one after another, all aimed at Xuan Cheng’s eyes, throat, and other vulnerable points.

“Hmph! I refuse to believe your Vajra Body Defending Divine Skill can protect these areas too!” Jiumozhi sneered inwardly. His gaze even flickered toward Xuan Cheng’s lower body for a moment, but in the end, he refrained—such an attack would be unbecoming of a dignified monk.

Song Qingshu, watching from the side, saw through Jiumozhi’s intentions immediately. He even noticed when Jiumozhi briefly considered attacking Xuan Cheng’s lower body, making him chuckle. Still, he had to admire the man’s brilliance—figuring out a counter to ”Vajra Body Defending Divine Skill” so quickly was no small feat.

Yet, admiration was one thing. If Song Qingshu were to face ”Vajra Body Defending Divine Skill” himself, he would never resort to such an unscrupulous method—it would tarnish his grand and heroic image.

He thought back to how he had once used structural mechanics knowledge to break through the defenses of the Master of the Vajra Sect. Feeling a sense of pride, he mused, ‘You may have divine skills, but I have science. No wonder those who transmigrate into novels always have an inherent sense of superiority. Standing on the shoulders of giants, how can one not feel proud?’

While Song Qingshu’s mind wandered, Jiumozhi executed sixteen more Shaolin techniques in quick succession. 

The Shaolin monks were utterly dazzled, thinking, ‘So he truly wasn’t boasting—he has indeed mastered our 72 Ultimate Techniques.’

Yet Xuan Cheng remained motionless, allowing every attack to land on him without suffering a single injury. The Shaolin monks were in even greater awe. If he could defeat Jiumozhi without even striking back, Shaolin’s prestige would soar throughout the martial world.

But ultimately, they were disappointed. Facing Jiumozhi’s endless barrage of vicious techniques, Xuan Cheng finally had to move. ”Vajra Body Defending Divine Skill” might render the body invulnerable, but his eyes and other vital spots were still flesh and blood—he could not protect them completely.

“A man of your martial prowess, a respected master, yet you resort to such lowly street-fighting tactics?” Xuan Cheng retreated, at times looking quite desperate. His anger flared.

His words were immediately echoed by the monks of Shaolin and Mount Song, who loudly denounced Jiumozhi’s underhanded tactics.

Seeing Jiumozhi’s face flush red, Song Qingshu sighed inwardly, ‘Well, we are old friends after all. I suppose I should lend you a hand.’

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