Ten days earlier, the Venerable Wutian had proclaimed to the martial world that he would seek justice from Master Liaoyin at Huangshan Palace. On the surface, he spoke of righteousness, but in truth he was gathering support from heroes across the land. Deliberately or not, he had positioned the Wutian Chan Sect as a righteous orthodox school while branding the Western Sacred Cult as a demonic and heretical force. Naturally, this aroused the displeasure of the Western Holy Mother, Chen Jinfeng.
After a fierce exchange of words, Wutian had even struck at her, and the two fought fiercely. Their martial arts skills proved evenly matched, neither able to gain the upper hand. Yet their clash disrupted the friendly martial gathering arranged by the Canal Brotherhoods, enraging the eccentric martial arts master Duanmu Song, known throughout the jianghu as the "Eastern Madman." Duanmu Song appeared suddenly, stirring the stagnant waters of the martial world, and personally reprimanded them both. Only then did they depart in frustration.
Today, upon the tournament grounds of Huangshan Palace, the two rivals met once again. Truly, enemies meet on a narrow road, and old grudges burn brightest when foes stand face to face.
Without a word, Wutian settled into a horse stance. His palms traced a graceful arc before he suddenly rushed toward Chen Jinfeng. His strike came with astonishing speed. In an instant, the palm was already upon her.
The attack was as swift as an arrow loosed from a bow, arriving without warning. Had an ordinary person faced such a strike, he would already have died beneath the palm before anyone could intervene.
The Western Holy Mother reacted instantly. She raised her palm to counter, then sprang into the air. Turning gracefully in midair, she descended and struck downward at Wutian's forehead.
The palm was terrifyingly fierce.
Had it landed, death would have been immediate. The victim's skull would have shattered, spraying blood and brains across the sky, beyond all hope of salvation.
The two exchanged a flurry of blows. The Western Holy Mother advanced relentlessly, launching attack after attack. Though Wutian retreated repeatedly to evade her assault, both combatants unleashed their supreme arts, and offense and defense changed hands many times in rapid succession.
Wutian flipped backward to avoid a strike, then smiled coldly.
"Heaven cherishes all living things, and mankind possesses compassion," he mocked. "Master Liaoyin was a revered monk of his generation. How could you bear to murder him?"
At those words, murderous fury flashed from Chen Jinfeng's eyes.
"You demon monk!" she snapped through clenched teeth. "Do not spout such nonsense! Master Liaoyin slandered my faith. How could the Western Sacred Cult endure such humiliation without response?"
Even as they fought, they continued their verbal battle.
The spectators surrounding the arena erupted with cheers, yet even the thunderous applause could not drown out their heated exchange.
Wutian's eyes swept across the crowd. Every hero present was watching intently.
Knowing he had seized upon a weakness in his opponent's position, he pressed his advantage psychologically.
"We disciples of the Buddha advocate patience and reconciliation," he shouted. "To endure insult without resentment is a basic principle of the faith. Yet you, leader of the Western Sacred Cult, cannot even comprehend such a simple truth! How then do you instruct your followers in Buddhist teachings?"
The crowd immediately responded with approval.
Many nodded in agreement.
From among the spectators came a cold voice:
"What a fitting title—'Demon Mother of the West!'"
Others quickly joined in.
"Demoness!"
"Witch!"
"Evil heretic!"
Chen Jinfeng had never expected her own words to bring disaster upon her.
Cold sweat formed upon her back.
How had she fallen into this demon monk's trap?
As the two continued arguing, the crowd grew increasingly agitated. The anger surrounding the arena swelled like a storm.
With only a few carefully chosen words, Wutian had skillfully manipulated public opinion. In mere moments, Chen Jinfeng had become the common enemy of the entire martial world.
The spectators glared at her with hatred.
Some seemed ready to tear her apart with their bare hands.
Finding herself suddenly transformed into a public enemy, she no longer had time to consider the hidden implications of Wutian's accusations.
"Master Liaoyin slandered the Western Sacred Cult without reason. How could I—"
"Silence!"
Before she could finish, Wutian struck.
His left palm flashed forward like a gust of wind, forcing its way toward her chest. The impact of his interruption cut her words short.
Two more palms followed immediately.
"How dare you slander a holy monk, demoness!" he roared. "What punishment do you deserve?"
Chen Jinfeng's face flushed crimson with rage.
"You demon monk!" she screamed. "You seek death! Very well—I shall grant you a swift one!"
Furious beyond measure, she transformed her palm into a finger strike and shot toward the vital acupoints upon his chest.
The attack was incredibly swift.
Yet Wutian had anticipated it.
Their fists and palms collided repeatedly as they maneuvered across the arena.
A loud crack rang out.
Chen Jinfeng felt a powerful force rebound through her arm and was forced to retreat a step before regaining her balance.
Meanwhile, Wutian stood with righteous dignity and shouted for all to hear:
"Wicked fiend! You murdered a holy monk and still refuse to repent!"
With those words, he suddenly leapt into the air and unleashed a barrage of palm strikes.
The duel intensified.
Both masters displayed their finest techniques.
Yet Chen Jinfeng had already fallen into the web of Wutian's design.
Life in the jianghu was not merely about killing and fighting.
It was about reputation, influence, and the subtle currents of human nature.
Now she stood condemned by countless eyes.
Every glance accused her.
Every finger pointed toward her guilt.
Any attempt at explanation would only strengthen the accusation.
The bitterness lodged in her throat like a fishbone.
She suffered in silence.
Wutian was not only a master of peerless martial arts but also a schemer adept at psychological warfare.
His relentless manipulation unsettled her mind and disrupted her concentration.
Even as she blocked his descending twin palms, she knew she was being led by the nose.
At last, she unleashed her supreme technique—the Nine Heavens Heavenly Gang Palm.
As her sleeves billowed, she chanted:
"The Nine Heavens Heavenly Gang Palm,
whose mysteries emerge from the palm.
Softness is the root of hardness;
hardness is the function of softness.
Though form may cease, intent continues.
Though movement pauses, will endures.
Achievement comes without awareness.
The palm strikes without conscious thought.
Such is the Heavenly Gang Palm."
The incantation ended.
A powerful gale rose around her.
With a sudden movement, she unleashed the technique "Arrow Rain Through the Forest."
The strike came faster than thunder.
Instantly her hands stabbed, pierced, and struck in countless directions.
The technique was wondrously profound, endlessly changing, mysterious beyond comprehension.
Wutian hurriedly circulated his inner energy.
His palms danced desperately to counter the incoming assault.
For the first time, he appeared overwhelmed.
He stumbled several steps, barely maintaining his defense.
Seeing this, Chen Jinfeng finally vented the resentment that had been building within her heart.
"Demon monk!" she cried. "You sow discord and create chaos wherever you go. I shall not spare you!"
Yet Wutian merely laughed and proclaimed loudly:
"All men must die.
But some deaths are heavier than Mount Tai,
while others are lighter than a feather.
Why should I fear death?"
The declaration stirred the crowd deeply.
Every hero present was moved.
Cheers erupted from all sides as the spectators shouted encouragement for Wutian.
Within moments, he appeared to be the very embodiment of justice and righteousness, a champion fighting for the honor of the martial world.
To punish evil and uphold virtue seemed entirely justified.
In contrast, the Western Holy Mother had been cast as the incarnation of wickedness itself—a villain beyond redemption, whose death would inspire no pity whatsoever.