Suddenly, a blur of motion flashed—second brother Qian Ming appeared at Qin Hong's side and said, "Third sister, this girl's palm technique has some depth. Let me test her skills."
Before his words had even faded, he had already leapt into the air, closing in with a chopping palm strike. Ling Xian'er responded with both hands in a movement called "Seemingly Welcoming Yet Rejecting," tracing an arc in the air before lightly sending out a palm.
Qian Ming, however, was unmoved. Midway through his strike, he altered its direction—his technique strange and unpredictable. This was his famed skill, the "Half-Section Palm." In an instant, he pressed forward, his palm shooting toward Ling Xian'er's lower abdomen.
Caught off guard by the sudden change and speed, Ling Xian'er hastily withdrew her palm and shifted her stance to evade. Qian Ming, having gained the initiative, immediately pressed his advantage, driving his palm force forward in relentless pursuit. His Half-Section Palm was elusive and deceptive, its attacks shifting direction midway, leaving Ling Xian'er momentarily overwhelmed. She spun and maneuvered continuously, evading strike after strike as they exchanged over a dozen moves in rapid succession.
Suddenly, Qian Ming thrust out another palm. Ling Xian'er reversed her motion, executing "Seemingly Rejecting Yet Welcoming." Again her hands traced an arc before delivering a light strike.
Qian Ming rejoiced inwardly, thinking this was merely a repetition of the previous move. He launched another attack toward her abdomen—yet this time the angle and timing were entirely different.
The difference between "Welcoming Yet Rejecting" and "Rejecting Yet Welcoming" lay in the transition between defense and offense. The former was reactive; the latter proactive. The timing and speed of execution differed by the slightest margin—yet that margin meant everything.
This sudden variation caught Qian Ming completely off guard. Fortunately, his Half-Section Palm allowed mid-strike adjustments. He hurriedly redirected his attack—
Bang!
Their palms collided.
Ling Xian'er staggered back three or four steps before stabilizing herself, while Qian Ming retreated only a single step. From this alone, one could tell the depth of his internal power.
A thunder of cheers erupted from the bandits.
At that critical moment, a gray figure flashed forward. A monk stood before Ling Xian'er—Master Yiye. With palms pressed together, he spoke calmly, "Amitabha. This old monk is unworthy, yet I come to learn from your skill."
At the sound of the Buddha's name, Master Yiye's eyes shone with spiritual brilliance. Qian Ming snorted coldly and unleashed a move—"Fist Strikes South Mountain." He lunged forward, fists raining down.
Master Yiye shifted sideways with flowing steps, narrowly avoiding the assault. Qian Ming immediately followed with "Kick Sweeps North Sea," a flying kick aimed at the Dazhui point on the monk's back. His fists and legs worked in tandem, launching a flurry of attacks.
Master Yiye's hands moved like the wind. Qian Ming shifted from palm to claw, seizing both of the monk's arms. But in an instant, Master Yiye shook free and counterattacked. Their roles reversed.
The monk suddenly struck with a palm—swift and silent—forcing Qian Ming back a step. This move was called "Falling Leaves Without Sound."
Then came "Autumn Wind, Autumn Leaves." Two waves of palm force swept up dust from the ground as several strikes surged forward.
They exchanged blows rapidly. Master Yiye moved like drifting clouds and flowing water, his palms swift yet heavy with power. Qian Ming felt a growing unease.
At that moment, another figure darted in—it was Xin Feng, the fourth of the Gale Four Fiends. Master Yiye struck diagonally, and the three exchanged palms. Qian Ming and Xin Feng staggered back several steps but quickly regained composure, unwilling to lose face before the crowd.
Master Yiye said calmly, "Good and evil are repaid in kind; life and death bear no injustice. As the Mahaparinirvana Sutra teaches: 'The retribution of good and evil follows like a shadow; karma across the three lifetimes never fails.'"
Xin Feng's expression darkened with rage. "Only you monks preach such nonsense? I can speak just as well! Second brother—let's take this bald donkey together!"
With that, the two attacked from opposite sides.
Master Yiye sighed softly, chanting, "Amitabha…" He knew that reasoning with such men was futile. If he did not display true skill to subdue them, they would never retreat.
Qian Ming and Xin Feng roared and launched a ferocious assault. Their coordination was flawless, their techniques ruthless and deadly.
Master Yiye stood centered, his waist steady as an axis, his steps agile. He guided energy with intent, and force with energy. His palms followed his body, his steps followed his palms—movement and stillness as one.
His Beiye Palm emphasized piercing, deflecting, intercepting, and blocking; lifting, guiding, locking, and drilling; cutting, striking, sinking, and hitting. It was a mobile style, ever-changing, alternating between hardness and softness, without fixed form.
Though his opponents were powerful and aggressive, Master Yiye remained calm and unassuming, his movements fluid and balanced—firm yet yielding, real yet illusory.
Suddenly, he extended an arm. His fingers aligned, palm downward, striking forward like a blade—swift as lightning.
Three palm strikes descended in an instant.
Qian Ming failed to evade in time—one strike landed squarely on his shoulder. At the same moment, Master Yiye swept out a kick, striking Xin Feng squarely on the backside.
The two tumbled back seven or eight steps before stopping.
Master Yiye then folded his palms and said, "Amitabha. How lamentable."
Qian Ming and Xin Feng exchanged a glance. Fury surged within Qian Ming. "Old monk, spare us your preaching!"
Master Yiye replied gently, "Gale Four Fiends, cease your evil ways. Turn back, and the shore awaits."
Xin Feng sneered. "This old monk keeps spouting Amitabha nonsense. We, the Gale Four Fiends, don't buy any of it!"