Chapter Twenty-Four: One Battle Ends, Another Begins

Page (1/3)

Facing Xiongba's Jade-Cracking Strike, Jue Wushen directly unleashed the second form of the Killing Fist:

“Killing God!”

The very phrase "Jade-Cracking Strike" indicated a technique specifically designed to shatter protective qi shields. Although Jue Wushen held absolute confidence in his Immortal Golden Body, at this moment, he was unwilling to recklessly test it.

Boom!

As the two techniques collided, a muffled sound rang out. The solid qi force of the Jade-Cracking Strike pierced through Jue Wushen’s Killing God move, striking his protective qi shield and sending ripples across its surface before dissipating.

Ultimately, most of the Jade-Cracking Strike’s power was consumed by Jue Wushen’s move. The weakening final blow could hardly shake the Immortal Golden Body.

Jue Wushen refrained from mocking Xiongba’s Jade-Cracking Strike. After all, a technique capable of breaking the Killing Fist deserved respect. To belittle others was to belittle himself.

“A fine Jade-Cracking Strike indeed, worthy of its name!” Jue Wushen admitted.

By this point in the battle, Jue Wushen no longer wished to continue. Further fighting would not decide victory or defeat, but life or death.

Likewise, Xiongba did not want to press on. The Jade-Cracking Strike, concentrated into a single point of inner power, had failed to breach the Immortal Golden Body. Xiongba knew that to break it, he would have to find a flaw.

From Xiongba’s observation, the residual force’s ripples from the Jade-Cracking Strike could only shatter the Immortal Golden Body if...

Xiongba’s Three-Part Essential Qi was primarily based on Void Cloud Energy. If it were based on Divine Wind Energy or Frost Energy, perhaps the outcome would differ.

“Jue Wushen of the East Sea truly has the strength of a regional lord!” Xiongba no longer mocked his opponent. Both parties tacitly ceased fighting, mutually acknowledging each other’s power.

“Hahaha…”

“Hahaha…”

Then they both laughed heartily, all understood without words.

Xiongba glanced at Jue Wushen before turning to leave with the Twelve Fiends of the Heavenly Pool.

Originally, Xiongba’s plan was simple: if Jue Wushen could kill, then let him; then, with the glory of victory, reclaim the Supreme Assembly.

But now, having witnessed Jue Wushen’s strength, Xiongba left him to deal with Qin Shuang.

After Jue Wushen handled Wuming and Qin Shuang, Xiongba would emerge to enjoy the fruits of victory. What could be better?

As for the Heavenly Gate, it had long since been cast aside from Xiongba’s mind.

…

Page (2/3)

While Xiongba and Jue Wushen dueled, Po Jun and Wuming arrived at the former Sword Sect grounds.

They gazed upon the three great masters of the Sword Sect frozen in ice, along with Sword Sect’s sect leader, Jian Hui—Po Jun’s father. For a moment, both were filled with deep emotion.

They recalled the duel over a decade ago concerning the ownership of the “Ten Thousand Swords Return to Sect.” Ultimately, Po Jun was defeated. Jian Hui threw Wuming’s apprenticeship jade pendant in front of Wuming’s sword tip.

Wuming, unwilling to shatter the pendant, withdrew his strike, resulting in a stalemate.

The onlookers—Dugu Yifang, Sword Emperor, and others—witnessed the duel. Because their clash had damaged the sect’s pillars, the three voluntarily supported the columns to watch the fight’s outcome.

Unexpectedly, Jian Hui, to avoid responsibility, invoked the Reversal Ice Technique, freezing the entire Sword Sect. The three masters observing, along with Jian Hui himself, were all trapped in ice.

More than a decade later, their expressions and postures remained lifelike, transformed into ice sculptures standing within the Sword Sect.

If they had known the final outcome, the three would never have come to watch.

“Wuming, do you regret not delivering that final strike?” Po Jun’s usual arrogance was gone as he looked at his father’s frozen corpse. Recalling his father’s favoritism, Po Jun was unsure whether to feel sorrow or joy.

“That was my apprenticeship rite. If I had damaged the pendant, then the master-disciple bond would have been broken—and all my martial skills were taught by my master!” Wuming faced the past calmly. Even now, he would make the same choice.

“You knew well that throwing out the pendant was to stop you from winning. Don’t you understand his intent?” Po Jun found Wuming’s choice hard to comprehend. It was obvious Jian Hui had been unfair, favoring his son. Why did Wuming refrain from the final strike?

“I am fully aware that the master’s love for his son clouded his fairness. But I could not do that!” Each person values different things. Some cherish fame and fortune like Xiongba, others value feelings like Bu Tongjingyun. Wuming was undoubtedly one who valued emotions deeply.

To Wuming, the “Ten Thousand Swords Return to Sect” was no match for the bond between master and disciple.

“My only regret is that that moment of compassion led to my wife’s tragic death. I have failed her!” Clearly, Wuming was haunted by his wife’s demise. Otherwise, he would not have withdrawn from the martial world afterward.

Now that he knew Po Jun was behind his wife’s death, his heart could not find peace.

“I would rather you had not spared me—that would have been my shame!” To a martial artist, dying at an opponent’s hands was nothing. The world is the martial world, and death is just part of it. But being spared was a humiliation Po Jun could not bear.

“For that shame, I have trained day and night—to reclaim that strike!”

Page (3/3)

Po Jun recalled the years of relentless training in the Killing Wolf technique, his heart burning with hatred—not sure if he hated himself for being inferior to Wuming or resented Wuming’s kindness.

“Fine. I will take your life to honor my deceased wife!”

Wuming’s anger was equally fierce. For over a decade, he had sought the murderer. Never had he imagined it was Po Jun.

“Hahaha…” Po Jun laughed heartily, “Good! Fire makes it interesting. I look forward to your fighting spirit!”

Life and death no longer mattered to Po Jun. But being ignored, having mercy bestowed upon him—he had long since grown tired of it.

Po Jun assumed a fighting stance, ready to face Wuming. Wuming, however, spoke calmly:

“To avoid disturbing the spirits of our masters, let us fight outside.”

Po Jun glanced around the Sword Sect ruins and led the way out of the icy tomb.

Outside the Sword Sect, in a bamboo grove that was once the training ground of the sect’s disciples, Wuming and Po Jun stood facing each other once again after more than a decade.

The two finest disciples of the Sword Sect prepared to duel once more.

Po Jun wore a purple-brown leather coat, bearing the Greedy Wolf and Seven Killings blades on his back. Wuming donned blue robes, standing with arms crossed behind him.

They faced each other, their aura rising naturally from the moment their eyes met. A mysterious wind stirred between them, yellowed bamboo leaves danced in the breeze, drifting back and forth.

At a certain moment, as the flying bamboo leaves obscured their sight, the battle erupted.

Behind Po Jun, the Greedy Wolf and Seven Killings blades soared into the air. He formed fists with both hands, launching a fierce assault on Wuming. Wuming’s fingers formed a sword-like gesture, aiming precisely at Po Jun.

The punches were brutal and ruthless, each strike targeting Wuming’s vital points. Wuming’s sword fingers were sharp and precise, covering every opening in Po Jun’s defense.

The exchange of fists and finger strikes was relentless—block, dodge, attack. These two, once the martial world’s top experts, now fought with no trace of former brilliance.

Each technique had returned to simplicity—pure and unadorned. Their duel tested inner power and mastery of technique.

After a clash, Po Jun leapt up, catching the descending Seven Killings and Greedy Wolf blades.

Sword and blade in hand, Po Jun’s aura soared to new heights. The fusion of Seven Killings, Greedy Wolf, sword, blade, and man created a fearsome trinity, amplifying his ferocious presence.

It was as if they stood on a battlefield of hundreds of thousands, the killing intent soaring to the heavens, engulfing all around.