Chapter Thirty-Two: A Fight to the Death

The mute man seemed indifferent to the appearance of this stranger, perhaps not taking him seriously. Yet his eyes burned with a fierce hostility, clearly aware that Wan Yongkun had been lurking here for some time, and must have discovered something. He waved his hand, signaling a preparatory stance.

Suddenly, Wan Yongkun felt an invisible pressure envelop him, utterly different from when he had hidden in the shadows to secretly watch the mute practice. He was alarmed—could this man be concealing profound skills, and had Wan underestimated him?

He glanced around. The bamboo grove was dim and shrouded in mist, lending it an eerie atmosphere. If he were to die here, his body would likely only attract wild dogs. For the first time in his life, fear gripped him, and he unconsciously stepped back half a pace to relieve the oppressive feeling.

He wanted to speak, so he coughed lightly twice.

As expected, the mute was exceptionally astute, seeming to understand his intent. He stood upright, withdrawing his hands, and Wan Yongkun felt the pressure ease considerably. So that invisible force had indeed been created by the mute—could he truly possess inner energy?

Wan Yongkun, uneasy, spoke: "Brother, I’m just passing through. If I’ve offended in any way, please forgive me."

The mute regarded him with wary eyes.

Wan Yongkun quickly schemed, considering how to deal with the mute, and continued: "I see you’re a martial artist, and your skills seem impressive. I admit I wanted to learn from you by observation. I hope you won’t mind."

The mute, unable to respond, continued to stare coldly.

"Uh..." Wan Yongkun feigned curiosity, "Why aren’t you speaking, brother?" He gestured to his ear, indicating whether the mute was deaf.

The mute finally shook his head. Wan Yongkun pretended to understand, then pointed to his mouth. The mute nodded.

Seeing the mute respond, Wan Yongkun pressed on: "So you have an affliction—my apologies. May I ask, in this rainy weather, what brings you here? Is it just to practice?"

He appeared to talk to himself: "Don’t misunderstand, I’m simply curious."

The mute seemed amused, pointing to the ground in front of him, likely suggesting Wan Yongkun come closer.

Wan Yongkun was secretly delighted but acted puzzled, stepping forward a few paces as directed: "Brother, do you mean we should spar?"

The mute nodded again, showing interest, and his hostility noticeably diminished.

"I once studied martial arts at Mount Emei for several years. Perhaps we’re fellow disciples, though I don’t recall seeing you..." Wan Yongkun paused. "Earlier, I felt your energy had reached a certain realm. I wonder which master taught you?"

"Ah, ah." The mute rarely uttered a sound, letting out two guttural noises, his eyes flickering with complex emotions that quickly vanished.

Wan Yongkun sensed the moment was ripe and assumed a stance himself, shouting and moving, essentially mimicking the mute’s previous moves to confuse him.

Sure enough, his ploy worked swiftly—the mute grinned.

He beckoned Wan Yongkun forward, inviting him to attack. Wan Yongkun obliged, quickly engaging the mute. The mute responded calmly, countering every move, apparently testing Wan Yongkun’s true abilities. Wan Yongkun played along, deliberately making clumsy maneuvers, appearing amateurish.

He barely got close to the mute, who grew a bit arrogant, now circling with one hand behind his back, still outmaneuvering Wan Yongkun with ease.

Wan Yongkun observed carefully—the man’s foundation was solid, his stance unwavering. The key was the mute’s footwork, resembling plum blossom stakes or the Eight Trigram steps. As he circled and observed, he gradually discerned the technique.

He continued flattering between strikes: "Brother, your skills are truly eye-opening."

"I’ve never seen such prowess at Mount Emei."

"If you have the chance, you must teach your little brother..."

The mute’s face radiated pride—perhaps he hadn’t met a real opponent in years. He seemed excited, now making delighted noises. Wan Yongkun secretly gathered his strength. His feigned amateurism was meant to seize the moment for a decisive attack. As the opportunity arrived, he prepared, intending to subdue the mute within three moves.

The first move was "Eagle Soars the Sky." It was simple: both hands clasped the opponent’s shoulders, locking the scapula, then leaping high, flipping over the opponent’s head, and kicking forcefully at the waist or ribs. Though he’d fall as well, the force was enough to smash the opponent to the ground. An ordinary person struck thus would suffer at least broken bones, at worst ruptured organs.

This was the opening move of Chen Tianyu’s self-created "Seven Beast Techniques," requiring immense arm and waist strength, the principle much like a hawk seizing a chick, killing it by slamming it down. It was rarely used, being too brutal for ordinary opponents, but since the mute was a master, Wan Yongkun intended to inflict serious injury.

The mute, caught off guard, was thrown to the ground with a heavy thud. He never expected the meek little man to flip him so easily, but it was too late to react. Before he could recover, Wan Yongkun’s second killing move followed.

"Tiger Roars in the Forest," another ground technique. Wan Yongkun lunged forward, five fingers gripping the mute’s left and right ribs, hoisting him upside down like a furious king of the mountain. The mute instinctively clung to Wan Yongkun’s legs, but Wan Yongkun slammed him back to the ground, again gripping his ribs and repeating the move. Simple as it seemed, in a few moves, the mute was thrown dizzy and battered.

The simplest ways are the best; superior martial arts, as Bruce Lee said, are quick, precise, and ruthless.

After several rounds, the mute was clearly exhausted, collapsing like a pile of mud. Wan Yongkun felt a pang of pity, perhaps moved by the mute’s earlier passionate carving of a woman’s figure. He intended only to capture the man, and had overheard enough to confirm the stolen Guanyin statue was his doing—enough to justify detaining him for interrogation.

Wan Yongkun slowly stood, gazing at the mute on the ground, then turned to find a vine or something to tie him up. After all, the mute was a martial artist, only subdued by surprise; should he recover, things might turn difficult. As he searched, the mute, who moments before seemed powerless, suddenly performed a "carp leap," springing upright.

"Ah..."

Wan Yongkun was startled, unable to react before the mute attacked. His movements were sluggish, clearly injured, but the formidable aura Wan Yongkun had sensed earlier seemed to return. This time, each strike targeted Wan Yongkun’s acupoints and meridians, carrying strong inner energy.

The truth was, Wan Yongkun specialized in external techniques; confronted by someone wielding inner strength, he was at a disadvantage. Worse, his momentary compassion had given the mute a chance to recover.

Between masters, the smallest mistake can lead to disaster.

Regret was useless now; Wan Yongkun could only employ his "Fish Leaps Over the Dragon Gate" footwork, darting east and west in a desperate defense. He inwardly bemoaned his predicament—he truly struggled to fend off the attacks. His acupoints—Middle Cavity, Heaven’s Passage, Great Gateway—were repeatedly assaulted, causing him agony.

If this continued, defeat was inevitable. The best plan was escape. He waited for an opening; by his calculations, in terms of stamina, the mute could never catch him, so fleeing should not be difficult. He repeated the "Eagle Soars the Sky" move, not to injure but to escape.

His legs and ribs suffered two elbow strikes, but he managed to free himself from the mute’s grasp. Wan Yongkun endured the pain, bolting away. Naturally, the mute gave chase. Wan Yongkun glanced back, just as expected—the distance between them was widening.

He zigzagged several times, and the already fatigued mute was soon out of breath. Though Wan Yongkun regretted not capturing the mute on the spot, he was content with what he’d gained. As the saying goes, so long as the mountain remains, there will always be firewood.

He accelerated, feeling the mute would no longer pursue, and slowed his pace slightly.

Suddenly—

He stepped onto a patch of soft bamboo leaves, and an odd sensation struck him. The leaves swiftly closed around his ankle, the force dragging him forward. Even with his agility, he inevitably toppled, the bamboo-leaf loop pulling him along. Wan Yongkun tried to untangle it, but the tighter he struggled, the tighter it became. Disaster!

Unexpectedly, Zhang Jin, who had been gone for a while, had returned and laid this trap. Wan Yongkun, already worn out by the mute, now suffered an ambush. He felt utterly powerless.

With this delay, the mute quickly caught up.

"Finished!" Wan Yongkun struggled desperately but could not break free.

Seeing the mute lunge at him, Wan Yongkun could only raise his arms in a futile defense, like a mantis trying to stop a chariot. This time, the fierce warrior of Beiting was about to fall in the depths of the forest!

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck the back of his head—his Wind Pool acupoint was hit hard. Wan Yongkun’s vision went dark, and he lost consciousness.