Qin Mu burst into laughter, his body shaking as he sent Hu Ling'er flying away. He crouched, then leaped upward with explosive force, his hands raised to the heavens, charging straight at the great Buddha coiling dragons and seated like an elephant as it pressed down!
The Eighth Thunderclap Forms, Sixth Form: Ten Thousand Buddhas Pay Homage, Thunder within the Plate!
BOOM!
Thunder cracked across the sky as the two figures—one shooting upward, the other plummeting down—collided in mid-air.
Qin Mu's eyes burned with madness as he looked up, waiting for the figure above to fall. As soon as Yun Que's feet touched the ground, rumbling thunder filled his ears, and Qin Mu's fist came roaring toward him, each punch accompanied by erupting lightning, rumbling and rumbling, shaking the soul.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Qin Mu's steps were ponderous and heavy, like a great elephant stamping upon the earth. Every muscle in his body rippled and surged, channeling all his strength to its absolute peak.
Their fists collided. Yun Que's expression shifted slightly as he felt the opponent's yuan qi—vast and overwhelming, crushing his own energy as if it were nothing.
He retreated hastily, stepping back while frantically trying to fend off Qin Mu's punches. But he found that all his techniques, every refined move, every perfectly crafted form—none of them could be brought to bear. He could only use his fists to block the other's fists.
His martial techniques and spells simply could not be deployed in time. He had no opportunity.
"Lotus Throne Seal! Lotus Treasure Body! Treasure Vase Seal!"
Yun Que roared, and suddenly golden light erupted from his body. He struck out with a palm, and beneath his feet a lotus throne materialized. Sanskrit characters swirled ceaselessly around his body, forming the shape of a treasure vase, sealing Yun Que within.
Qin Mu's fist came crashing in, thunder exploding. The golden bell, the lotus throne, the treasure vase—all shattered. Yun Que's fist was smashed open, blood spraying onto his white cassock in brilliant red, like delicate plum blossoms.
But the blossoms faded quickly. His white robe was clearly a treasure as well—no stain could cling to it.
Yun Que's arms went limp and heavy, nearly impossible to lift. His movements slowed. He knew things had gone terribly wrong when Qin Mu's fist smashed into his face with a sharp crack. He was slapped against the jade cliff face, then slid down to the ground, unconscious.
"The Imperial Academy does have some capable fighters after all."
Qin Mu felt refreshed, though slightly disappointed that this white-robed monk had been knocked out before he'd even had a chance to fully warm up and stretch his limbs. He thought to himself, "A random monk shows up and manages to withstand so many of my strikes. The Grandmaster was right—there are some truly skilled people in the Imperial Academy. I mustn't look down on the natives of the State of Yankang."
"Young Master, it's over already?"
Hu Ling'er had barely regained her footing and hadn't even had time to watch the fight properly before it was finished. Disappointed, she hurried over and began rummaging through Yun Que's body, searching for anything valuable.
After a moment, the little fox huffed indignantly: "A broke monk!"
"Ling'er, his robes are quite nice—they should be worth something," Qin Mu kindly suggested.
Hu Ling'er peeled off the monk's robe and, sure enough, it was spotless and impossible to tear. The little fox was delighted: "This monk will definitely pay a good sum to get these back! Oh right, Young Master—what's his name?"
Qin Mu leaped up onto the jade cliff and headed toward the Scholars' Lodge, shaking his head. "How should I know? I asked him earlier, but he wouldn't say—probably afraid of the embarrassment after losing. That monk does have some spiritual insight and a healthy sense of self-awareness."
Not far away, Yue Qinghong suppressed her shock and walked over with the Wolf Slave, looking down from the cliff's edge. Yun Que lay at the base, wearing nothing but bloodstained white shorts, still unconscious.
His white shorts were nowhere near as precious as the cassock—they were made of ordinary cloth.
"Yun Que is useless—he couldn't even force him to use his full strength. But this Qin Mu is genuinely formidable. Wolf Slave, how do you compare to him?" Yue Qinghong asked.
The Wolf Slave's eyes blazed with light as he curled his tongue and spoke: "I have the Demon Blade Technique—a blade forged for the killing fields. I can force him to use his full power! But I can only hold on for ten moves. After ten, I will certainly fall."
Yue Qinghong's eyes lit up. "Go."
The Wolf Slave bowed, then reached behind his back. With two sharp hisses, the two curved blades crossed there slid free. They were pitch-black, without a single speck of other color, as though forged from the darkest metal in existence. And they were over ten feet long—slender, narrow, and curved.
The Wolf Slave strode forward, his steps quickening. Suddenly he released his hands, and threads of yuan qi shot out, controlling the blades by his will. The two demon blades sliced through the air in silence, hurtling toward Qin Mu!
Just as the blades were about to strike, they erupted with dark light—one sweeping low along the ground, the other slashing horizontally at waist height!
Qin Mu's hindbrain might as well have sprouted eyes. His body contorted into a bizarre shape, flattening like a slender fish. One foot stomped down on the blade sweeping low, while the other kicked the blade slashing high. It was nearly impossible to imagine a human body folding into such a position.
The upper blade went spinning away, while the lower blade was stomped straight into the mountain rock.
The Wolf Slave's heart lurched. He watched as Qin Mu flickered forward like a ghost, charging straight at him.
The Wolf Slave's yuan qi threads trembled, and the two demon blades screamed back. Black light crisscrossed above and below Qin Mu as the Langjuxu State's Demon Blade Technique was unleashed to its fullest. Yet not a single blade touched Qin Mu—he dodged them all by the thinnest margin.
His blade technique was no ordinary art. It was a killer's craft from the battlefield—no wasted movements, no extraneous flourishes, only one purpose: to slay the enemy!
And yet, even such a lethal technique could not so much as graze Qin Mu's body.
However, Qin Mu was also being forced back by the blade light. Not only could he not advance—he was being driven steadily backward.
Qin Mu's retreat resembled a serpentine blue dragon coiling through the air. The Wolf Slave's pupils contracted sharply. This was no retreat—this was the Coiling Dragon!
A dragon could be great or small, could stretch or coil. When a dragon coiled tight, it was preparing to strike with killing force.
The Wolf Slave had once been a figure of standing in the Langjuxu State, captured on the battlefield by Yue Qinghong. According to Langjuxu custom, he became her Wolf Slave and served at her command. But his strength was not much less than hers.
Moreover, he was a veteran of countless battlefields, seasoned through life-and-death combat. His battle experience was immensely rich.
Qin Mu's retreating posture gave him the feeling of being stared down by a savage and primordial beast!
His demon blades moved even faster, but Qin Mu had already accumulated his momentum to the limit. Suddenly, Qin Mu threw a punch, breaking through the boundary. A chorus of dragon roars surged outward—the two demon blades went out of control, hurtling back toward the Wolf Slave!
Along with the blades came Qin Mu's magnificent and overwhelming punch. The intent of his fist took the form of a fierce, fearsome dragon, lunging straight ahead.
The Wolf Slave bellowed. His yuan qi erupted, and a savage aura—tragic as the blood-red sun over a desert—blasted from his body. His clothes burst apart as dragon-wolf patterns surfaced across his skin. Both palms thrust forward with everything he had, pouring every last drop of yuan qi into his hands!
BOOM.
A violent shockwave rippled outward. The Wolf Slave's body slid backward, the two demon blades piercing through his ribs and driving into the rock behind him, pinning him in place. He retreated dozens of yards before crashing into a boulder that finally halted his slide.
"Ling'er, no need to loot him. Leave him some money for his injuries."
Qin Mu called back Hu Ling'er, who was about to go and strip the Wolf Slave of his belongings. He shook his head. "He used weapons, so I hit a bit harder than intended. His injuries are serious—it'll take a good sum to heal."
Hu Ling'er smacked her lips regretfully. "What a shame. Those two blades were really nice..."
Qin Mu shook his head and walked away. "Still not as good as my blade. But his strength isn't bad—his combat awareness is sharper than that monk's."
Only after Qin Mu had gone did Yue Qinghong reveal herself, stepping to the Wolf Slave's side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, the two demon blades having pierced through both his ribs and into the rock behind him, pinning him helplessly in place.
"Master, I miscalculated."
The Wolf Slave's face was full of shame. "I used ten moves. He used only three... BEWARE!"
The words had barely left his mouth when Yue Qinghong felt a warmth against her back—something had pressed tight against her from behind. Her heart trembled.
There was someone behind her, back to back. She had no idea when he had arrived.
Then Qin Mu's voice came from just beside her ear, the two of them impossibly close: "Senior Sister, is he your servant? You set your servant upon me—are you under the impression that I wouldn't dare kill someone in the Imperial Academy?"
Fine beads of cold sweat broke out across Yue Qinghong's forehead. She suddenly burst into motion, her feet tapping rapidly as she shifted position. But Qin Mu's body remained pressed against her back, his voice whispering in her ear: "Senior Sister, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"
Her scalp tingled with numbness. Yue Qinghong's figure flickered ghost-like from place to place, moving at extraordinary speed as she unleashed the Cloud Traces and Sparrow Shadows footwork. But no matter how she moved, Qin Mu clung to her back like a shadow—impossible to shake.
Cloud Traces and Sparrow Shadows was the finest movement technique she had ever learned. Though she could not yet manifest it as a true supernatural power, she could walk among the clouds and flit like a sparrow in low flight. But even such an exceptional technique could not甩 off Qin Mu.
Suddenly, Yue Qinghong felt the muscles of the young man behind her shifting under his skin, rippling like serpents. A wave of horror crashed through her. Her fine skin prickled with goosebumps from sheer terror: "The Martial Art School's finishing move!"
Qin Mu began to move his feet. Yue Qinghong suppressed her fear and followed his steps.
She knew the Martial Art School's finishing move could only be executed at close range. As long as she stayed pressed against Qin Mu's back and prevented him from turning around, his finishing move would be difficult to unleash.
Before, it had been Qin Mu clinging to her. Now it was her clinging to him, following his footsteps desperately, not daring to leave his back by even a fraction of an inch.
If she separated—if she let him turn—she would surely lose her head!
To be pressed this close by a master of the Martial Art School was essentially an immediate death sentence!
The two of them moved back to back at a blistering pace, drifting across the Imperial Academy's mountain like a pair of butterflies dancing in flight, fluttering here and there. Many scholars on the mountain stopped in their tracks to watch, marveling at the sight.
Qin Mu was dressed in brocade robes, Yue Qinghong in cyan. The two of them looked like the wings of a butterfly, pressed tight together—an image that easily captured the imagination.
A scholar sneered: "A pair of dogs! Even in broad daylight they spread that nauseating stench of rot!"
Suddenly, there was a deafening boom as Qin Mu slammed backward—straight into a pillar of the Qingyang Hall.
"Ling'er, let's go!"
Qin Mu called to Hu Ling'er. "Don't bother trying to loot her—you'd have to pry her out of that pillar first. She's not bad—she actually managed to keep up with my footwork. A true expert."
Hu Ling'er hurried after him, looking back reluctantly. There was Yue Qinghong, embedded in the pillar of the Qingyang Hall, her face pressed inward against the wood.