The Qi Arts Master Chapter 60
Tian Ailang's gaze shifted from the Shaolin Abbot's arm to Chanh Ho. Whether from the influence of demonic qi, Chanh Ho's sclera had turned entirely black. Chanh Ho ignored Tian Ailang's stare as best he could and swung his sword at the Shaolin Abbot once more. From the tip of Chanh Ho's blade extended a jet-black sword qi darker than the night itself.
"Amitabha."
The Shaolin Abbot assumed a horse-riding stance and thrust out his remaining right arm with tremendous force. Hundred Paces Divine Fist. One of the Shaolin Temple's famed 72 Ultimate Arts, this fist technique could strike across a hundred paces. It demanded immense internal energy, a body of ironclad strength, and flawless qi circulation—a pinnacle martial art. It was one of the techniques most people envisioned when thinking of elite Shaolin masters.
The qi of the Hundred Paces Divine Fist shot forth like a massive fist, clashing against Chanh Ho's black sword qi.
KABOOM!
The collision of their colossal energies sent both men staggering back. Seizing the opening, Jihui Woong leaped in.
"I don't care for ganging up, but as the young leader says, let's end this quick."
WHOOSH! Flames erupted from Jihui Woong's fist as he struck at the Shaolin Abbot. The Abbot, still in his horse-riding stance, swept his hand in a fluid, taiji-like motion. Jihui Woong's ferocious attack flowed harmlessly aside—a perfect display of soft overcoming the hard.
To the onlookers, it seemed the Abbot was effortlessly fending off two attackers with one hand. But in Tian Ailang's eyes, the defense was perilously fragile.
"Where are you letting your eyes wander?!"
Draku closed in at blinding speed, hurling crimson blood qi. Tian Ailang countered with his own finger projectile, neutralizing it. As Draku raked his claws upward, Tian Ailang met it with a punch infused with the Air's Binding.
CRUNCH!
The overwhelming force shattered Draku's long talons, sending shards flying. Though Draku's claws brimmed with potent sword qi, they paled in quality against the qi mastery of Tian Ailang, who tread upon the heavens.
"Grrgh!"
Draku grimaced in momentary agony before lunging again. His broken claws had already regenerated.
Blood extraction and regeneration... incredible abilities.
Tian Ailang grew anxious facing this troublesome foe. The Shaolin Abbot was holding off Chanh Ho and Jihui Woong with everything he had, but no one could say how long that would last. Had they been strangers, Tian Ailang might not have cared if the Abbot lived or died. But this was the man who had personally sought out and delivered the Great Return Pill. He couldn't ignore it.
Tian Ailang's irises flashed white like his sclera for an instant. His upper dantian flared to its extreme, accelerating his thoughts. Time and space slowed; he felt absolute command over the surrounding area, as if it were an extension of his body. Draku, the Shaolin Abbot, Chanh Ho, Jihui Woong—their every motion registered crystal clear.
Whew, still a burden.
Tian Ailang suppressed the sensory overload and drew upon thunder qi. His eyes turned golden.
ZZZAP.
Electric sparks danced across his body.
FLASH!
A sensation beyond the previous Thunder Dragon Descent enveloped him. With his upper dantian fully open and wielding thunder qi, Tian Ailang was godlike in this warped time-space. No opponent's speed could outpace his timeline.
He struck Draku's vital points with thunder-charged blows. The lingering bolts trailed like a dragon's tail.
"Gahk!"
Draku rebounded faster than he'd attacked, crashing to the ground. His body convulsed wildly amid crackling thunder fragments. It was a strike that would kill most warriors outright, but Draku's monstrous vitality and regeneration kept death at bay.
Tian Ailang instantly shifted to Jihui Woong, backhanding his face with his knuckles.
THUD!
Jihui Woong flew eight zhang—over seventy feet—before hitting the ground.
Tian Ailang didn't stop. He closed on Chanh Ho, unleashing a thunder-infused kick. But the attack missed its mark. Chanh Ho's sword was hurtling toward his throat at insane speed.
Tian Ailang hastily withdrew his leg, evading with the Earth Shrinking Technique. Chanh Ho's blade retracted just as swiftly, striking again. Tian Ailang blasted the ground beneath Chanh Ho with Earth Binding qi, exploding the earth. Unfazed by his crumbling balance, Chanh Ho spun midair and slashed.
It resembled the sword form he'd used against Elder Go in Lord Juwon's camp before. The difference? Demonic qi amplified its ferocious speed.
SKREEE—!
The sword screamed through the air toward Tian Ailang. He wrapped his hand in thunder qi and parried with full force. He yearned to create an opening with Plum Blossom Grafting or Four-Two Scatter Thousand Catties, but even on the Thunder Dragon's timeline, Chanh Ho's blinding swordplay allowed no such luxury.
CLANG!
A fierce qi wave erupted where blade met hand. Without pause, Tian Ailang unleashed a barrage of Divine Dragon Earth Strikes at point-blank range—no need to worry about accuracy.
Yet Chanh Ho deflected them all, his invisible sword whipping through the air.
After their furious exchange, Tian Ailang and Chanh Ho paused to catch their breath, eyes locked.
"Ailang."
"Chanh Ho."
They called each other's names but could say no more. Both felt like captains gripping the helm amid crashing waves of emotion—rage, sorrow, longing, satisfaction—all tangled together. Closest friends and brothers, this was their first true clash of martial arts. In the heat of blows, an inexplicable emotional exchange had flowed between them, stirring even greater turmoil as they sensed each other's hearts. Though they'd once shared everything, now they stood worlds apart. They resumed their stances, senses narrowing solely to one another. The chaos around faded like elegant empty space on a canvas.
On that pristine white paper existed only two figures, beginning to paint. Hands and feet, sword and form intertwined chaotically, like a brushstroke dashed in one go. Lines thin, then thick; swirling wildly, then thrusting bold. Amid their entangled dance, a maple leaf fluttered down.
They halted. On the canvas visible only to them burned a vivid red maple tree.
Tears streamed from Chanh Ho's eyes. Tian Ailang's as well.
"Young Leader!"
Jihui Woong hoisted Draku over his shoulder and hurried to Chanh Ho's side. His shout shattered their dreamlike world like a butterfly's wings. Chanh Ho and Tian Ailang quickly wiped their tears.
"Are you alright?"
The Shaolin Abbot approached Tian Ailang warily, eyes on Jihui Woong and Chanh Ho. Tian Ailang snapped to attention and surveyed the scene. It was surreal. The demonic cultists who had slaughtered warrior monks and pilgrims now lay as corpses themselves. The survivors clustered around Chanh Ho in retreat. Their numbers, once over a hundred, had halved.
Tian Ailang soon understood why. A familiar aura approached from the shadows.
He murmured low, "What brings you here?"
Slither.
Yu Soso emerged from the darkness in black night clothes, smiling. Perfect Illusory Ghost Step.
"I'll take that as 'nice to see you,' Clan Lord."
"Then..."
At Tian Ailang's puzzled look, Yu Soso glanced one way. There, Yu Soho and elite assassins flickered like ghosts, slaying the remaining cult remnants.
Yu Soso shrugged with a grin. "We were worried about you, Clan Lord. The Hao Gate Lord sent us."
Her smile felt reassuring in that moment. Then a youth in black assassin garb approached Tian Ailang like a shadow from the Death Veil.
He recognized him instantly. "You came yourself?"
The youth nodded and grinned, activating Bone Shrinking Skill. Crunch—bones twisted, his frame expanded into the familiar middle-aged Hao Gate Lord.
"Heavenly Face Asura!"
A scream like a war cry erupted from the cultists. Even Jihui Woong scowled in recognition.
"Heavenly Face Asura? How dare this mangy dog show his face here?!"
Those cultists scarred by past encounters with the Asura ground their teeth, glaring. Many here had suffered false accusations and ordeals from the Heavenly Face Asura's disguised infiltration as a cult elder, leaking intel on the Heavenly Demon Report.
The Hao Gate Lord bared his teeth in a laugh. "Aigoo~ Nice to see you all. Plenty of survivors from back then, huh? Thanks to you lot, I had a blast."
His cheeky words drew roars of curses and grinding teeth from the cultists.
Tian Ailang thought of Song Sogeol hearing the Gate Lord's tone. Still grinning, he continued.
"So which bastard poisoned my daughter? You, young leader?"
Chanh Ho's brow twitched.
"This filthy cur dares flap his trap?!"
Jihui Woong roughly dumped Draku among the cultists and surged with qi, ready to charge. But Chanh Ho raised a hand to stop him.
Chanh Ho scanned the surroundings coolly. Facing them: Tian Ailang and the Shaolin Abbot; the Hao Gate Lord, Death Veil Lord, and numerous assassins; Shaolin warrior monks reforming ranks. Three foes at Fusion Realm or above. They had three as well, but Draku was out. Their underlings matched in number and skill, but victory would cost dearly. Even sealing the temple would mean little at such a price. Their gain? Perhaps the Abbot's one arm.
Chanh Ho eyed Tian Ailang, the core of every variable.
He said indifferently, "We withdraw."
"Young Leader."
Jihui Woong called out reluctantly at the retreat order.
"Friendly Fire."
Chanh Ho's firm words made Jihui Woong click his tongue. "I get it. Tsk."
Then he commanded, "Everyone, withdraw!"
"Understood!"
The cultists formed a defensive formation without hesitation and retreated in unison.
"Shaolin Abbot! Keep that one arm safe. No chance this time, but next I'll rip out the other myself. And you, Qi Arts punk— we'll settle it later."
"Amitabha."
The Abbot chanted sutras and pressed palms together at Jihui Woong's words. No one hindered the cultists' orderly retreat. Like them avoiding greater losses, Shaolin sought the same. Vengeance could wait, but with the Abbot wounded and no absolute masters available—all dispatched elsewhere—Shaolin had no choice.
As he withdrew, Chanh Ho turned for one last look at Tian Ailang. Tian Ailang met his gaze unwaveringly. In their eyes fluttered torn red maple leaves.