Chapter Ninety-Three: Battle Amidst the Ruined Temple—Storms Unfold

He Zhixing was facing Park Jung-jin. At the peak of his karate mastery, Park Jung-jin could unleash unexpected gusts of force; from his front, behind, or sides, he could strike with spiral-like energy from his palms. The fact that Park Jung-jin had managed to break through to this unique spiral force at the pinnacle of karate was proof enough that he was an extraordinary anomaly. He was both intelligent and diligent—otherwise, there were those who practiced karate their entire lives and would never produce true inner energy.

That Park Jung-jin could cultivate true energy, and even forge his own distinctive spiral force, was no simple feat. He was, without a doubt, a genius.

Fortunately, He Zhixing’s Hanyang Eight Methods also utilized Five Elements inner energy, harmonizing yin-yang and the five phases, and hid a miniature Taiji transformation within. Thus, for the time being, Park Jung-jin could do little against him.

The stunning beauty was not having an easy time against the Priest, either. Since the Priest had found the residue of the spiritual herb at the bottom of that rectangular pit, his cultivation had advanced another level. His formidable skill lay in rendering his energy formless; his palm strikes felt weak, giving no hint of true energy, but whenever they struck her whip or her body, she would suddenly feel an intense surge of inner force—hot, with a hidden, lethal edge.

For the first time, the beauty sensed real danger. Relying on her exquisite lightness skill and uncanny footwork, she fought him at blinding speed; in an instant, the two had exchanged hundreds of blows.

Meanwhile, the situation elsewhere changed. Liu Tian and the Acupoint Uncle were still unable to rise from the ground, but the old man had begun to show his true power. Though his body was covered in wounds from the sable’s claws, for some reason he seemed immune to the creature’s venom. The ragged gashes showed no signs of blackened, poisoned blood. Had he once trained his body with medicinal baths to resist toxins?

At last, the old man struck like lightning, landing a palm on the sable. The creature shrieked in pain and tumbled away. The old man immediately lunged after it, intent on capturing the sable.

He Zhixing saw this and hurriedly abandoned Park Jung-jin to intercept the old man. At the same time, the beauty noticed her beloved sable had been injured by the Acupoint Uncle’s master—the old man. She let out a startled cry, “Little Ning!”

Swiftly, she sped toward where the sable had fallen, desperate to save her cherished companion from being captured, wounded, or worse. At that moment, the Priest lashed out with a palm. If the beauty dodged aside, she would be too far from the sable, and the Priest might reach it first.

She did not evade; instead, she secretly channeled her energy to several points on her back, took the full force of his palm, and with a cry of pain, rolled forward. Ignoring her injuries, she scooped the sable into her arms and made her way toward He Zhixing.

He Zhixing saw the beauty rescuing the sable and heading his way. The two exchanged a glance. The beauty said quickly, “Follow me!”

He Zhixing followed her to a back door behind the Buddha statue. As they passed the left side of the carved female deity, she snatched up a small stone tablet, radiating with spiritual energy, and held it tightly. Together, they slipped swiftly into the temple’s living quarters. The back entrance of the monastery was, in fact, the beauty’s occasional resting place. He Zhixing, having obtained the stone—larger than his palm, resembling an amulet of immunity—could not help but wonder, “Could there be a vein of ore here?”

“How does this stone hold spiritual energy? Is this the legendary crystal energy stone?”

Hand in hand, the beauty led him quickly past his resting room and then turned, entering the back door of the dilapidated monastery. Opening the door, they were greeted by a breathtaking view of verdant mountains and clear waters. Yet, there was no path beyond the threshold—only a sheer cliff, towering and treacherous. The beauty led him to the cliff’s edge. One step out of the door and it was a straight drop down the mountain; a fall from such a height would mean certain death or, at best, crippling injury.

He Zhixing hesitated, unsure what to do. Hearing their pursuers closing in, his heart clenched with dread. Suddenly, the beauty pulled him toward the cliff and leapt into the abyss. He Zhixing thought in despair, “It’s over. Who would have guessed my illustrious life would end as a wandering ghost upon these wild mountains... Alas.” He felt utterly helpless.

The wind howled past his ears. It was the first time he’d ever been dragged off a cliff to escape. Whose misfortune was this? In his confusion, his only hope was that he might survive the fall—everything else was beyond his power to consider.

Suddenly, he saw the beauty grasp something. Their downward plunge ceased; she had caught hold of a long rope, hanging high above. Dangling from her own grip, she called out to He Zhixing, “Grab the rope! Quick, we have to get down!”

It turned out the beauty had prepared this escape in advance. She had hung a long rope from a great tree at the mountain’s summit; only by leaping from the right spot could one catch hold of it.