Half-human, half-ghost, the number one divine fist

Mo Yiyi took a deep breath, lightly touched the ground with her toes, and her figure swept forward like a flowing cloud!

As soon as she moved, the blood and qi of the mid-stage Stone Skin surged out.

Tai Chi emphasizes "using intention, not force," but she was young after all, and she went all out from the start, her palm strikes continuous and surging like waves.

This palm strike was seven parts offense and three parts defense, intended to probe Lin Fusheng's strengths and weaknesses.

The moment the palm strike reached him, Lin Fusheng was moved.

He didn't take the blow head-on, but simply turned slightly to the side to avoid it, and with his right arm like a whip, he lightly placed it on Mo Yiyi's wrist.

That wasn't some fancy move; it was just the simplest way of drawing the opponent in and getting them to miss.

Mo Yiyi felt as if the force of her palm strike had hit a cotton ball soaked in water; three-tenths of her seven-tenths of the force was deflected and two-tenths was pulled away, causing her center of gravity to sway slightly.

She quickly withdrew her palm and changed her move. Tai Chi is known for its circular movements, so she spun around and thrust her other palm out from under her ribs, aiming straight for Lin Fusheng's shoulder.

This palm strike was faster and heavier.

Lin Fusheng neither dodged nor deflected the force.

He raised his hand, fingers slightly spread, to meet the attack head-on!

"Bang!"

The two palms collided with a muffled thud.

Mo Yiyi felt a powerful and profound force of blood and energy slam into Lin Fusheng's palm. The force was not fierce, but extremely steady, like pushing against a wall.

She was so shocked that she took three steps back, staggered, and almost fell down.

Lin Fusheng only took half a step back.

Mo Yiyi stared blankly at her palm, then looked up at Lin Fusheng, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Although she didn't use her full strength in that palm strike, she still used seventy percent of her vital energy!

She is in the mid-stage of the Stone Skin realm!

Lin Fusheng was just a newly injured patient who had just entered the stone skin area!

How is that possible?

Corridor.

Mo Feihong had lowered his hands, which had been behind his back, without anyone noticing.

He narrowed his eyes, and a deep shock flashed across his old, worldly eyes.

He was an expert in mercury blood and had a sharp eye.

Others might only see that Lin Fusheng 'didn't suffer a loss,' but he could clearly see that the total amount of qi and blood in this young man's body was even more abundant than that of Mo Yiyi.

On the lawn, Mo Yiyi came to her senses and bit her lower lip.

She is not convinced.

"Again!"

She gave a low shout, and this time she stopped testing them and unleashed ninety percent of her qi and blood!

She no longer pursued fancy moves, but instead pressed Lin Fusheng forward with one palm strike after another, using the most basic Tai Chi push-hands technique.

She wanted to test his limits!

Lin Fusheng did not back down.

He stood still, not retreating an inch, using the most fundamental techniques of Liuhequan—beng, zhuan, pie, pao, and heng—to meet each of Mo Yiyi's palms head-on.

He had already tested Mo Yiyi's abilities; she wasn't that formidable.

Therefore, he did not use the Sea-Swallowing Force.

He wasn't sure how powerful that energy was, and it would be bad if it hurt Mo Yiyi.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The three palm strikes collided, creating a surge of energy that left shallow indentations in the grass beneath their feet.

Mo Yiyi's breathing gradually became erratic.

With each palm strike she made, she felt as if she were pushing a mountain.

The boy's energy was not violent, but continuous, like a bottomless ancient well; no matter how much force she poured in, the same amount of force would bounce back.

She started to pant.

But the boy's breathing remained steady, and his expression remained calm.

Mo Yiyi finally stopped.

She lowered her hands, staring blankly at Lin Fusheng, her voice hoarse:

"Your blood and energy are definitely stronger than mine."

She lost.

Mo Yiyi, who had practiced martial arts since childhood and had few rivals among her peers, lost to a patient with early-stage Stone Skin injury today.

There is no excuse for losing.

Under the eaves, Mo Feihong let out a soft breath.

His heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled down.

But what he let go of was not his worry about Lin Fusheng, but his worry about his granddaughter.

Looking at the calm and composed young man on the lawn, and then at his granddaughter, whom he had been proud of for over a decade, bowing her head in defeat, he suddenly realized that his earlier words, "Don't hurt anyone," were completely unnecessary.

The one who should be told to stop short of making a point is probably Lin Fusheng.

A complex smile, a mixture of relief and感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or reflection), appeared on his lips.

"alright."

He spoke, his voice gentle, "That's enough."

Mo Feihong paused, looked at Lin Fusheng, and his tone became more serious:

"Fusheng, I've seen quite a few talented young people. But at your level, with your foundation of energy and blood—"

"You're the first one."

Upon hearing this, Lin Fusheng cupped his hands in thanks and said, "Thank you for the compliment, Elder Mo."

Mo Feihong nodded.

He pondered to himself.

Lin Fusheng, that kid, has pretty good potential.

I'll call Zheng Tingyuan in a bit and set a time for him to come over as soon as possible.

.......

Lunch was served in the small flower room on the east side of the main hall.

The window was half-open, and the afternoon light slanted in, falling on the dishes on the table.

Astragalus-stewed black-boned chicken, angelica mutton soup, red date and longan porridge, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and a bowl of dark brown medicinal soup, steaming hot.

Lin Fusheng was used to this kind of spectacle.

He quietly picked up his chopsticks and ate slowly, one bite at a time.

Mo Yiyi sat beside him. Today, she didn't wolf down her food, but just scooped up the porridge casually, her gaze occasionally drifting to the other end of the table, to Mo Feihong.

He was also eating, but his chopsticks clearly held a slice of ginger, which had been hanging in mid-air for a while, and he hadn't put it in his mouth yet.

"grandfather?"

Mo Yiyi put down her spoon and tilted her head to look at him.

Mo Feihong snapped out of his daze, chuckled, and placed the slice of ginger back on the plate.

"Grandpa, what are you thinking about?"

Mo Yiyi leaned closer, her eyes filled with curiosity, "You seem so lost in thought."

Mo Feihong glanced at his granddaughter, then at Lin Fusheng who was eating quietly, and shook his head slightly: "He does have something on his mind."

He paused, then put down his chopsticks.

"It's a good thing, though."

He stood up, put his hands behind his back, and walked out of the hall. Reaching the threshold, he turned back and added, "You all eat first, don't wait for me."

Mo Yiyi obediently responded and watched her grandfather's figure walk through the corridor, around the bamboo forest, and disappear into the depths of the courtyard.

She looked away, tilted her head towards Lin Fusheng, and lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret:

"I feel like Grandpa went to prepare that surprise for you."

When she spoke, her almond-shaped eyes sparkled, filled with certainty and a hint of pride.

Lin Fusheng smiled back as he saw Mo Yiyi smile at him. "You've really gone to a lot of trouble, Mr. Mo."

.......

Mo Feihong walked through three corridors and entered the study.

This is a small room with simple furnishings. Against the wall is a row of bookshelves reaching the ceiling, piled with yellowed files and account books; in front of the window is an old desk with writing brushes, ink, paper and inkstone neatly arranged; on the corner of the desk is a hand-cranked telephone, its black lacquer polished to a shine.

He closed the door and sat down at his desk.

Take a deep breath.

Then, slowly crank the cold metal handle.

"Click, click, click..."

A moment later, the call was connected.

"Feed?"

The voice from the other end was old, deep, and steady.

"It's me! Old Mo!"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a low laugh.

"Oh, Old Mo."

Zheng Tingyuan's voice was unhurried, tinged with a hint of helpless teasing, "Why are you calling me all of a sudden? Is it about your little brother again?"

"Yes, yes, that's it!"

"Brother Zheng, when are you free? Could you come over for a bit?"

As soon as Mo Feihong finished speaking, a sigh came from the other end of the line.

"Old Mo, I might not make it."

Mo Feihong's expression changed.

"It's not that I don't want to help you, old friend. It's just that I've come up with an urgent matter and will be busy for a while."

Mo Feihong was taken aback: "Urgent? What urgent matter?"

Zheng Tingyuan remained silent for a moment.

"As you know, the feud between my Six Harmonies Fist and Iron Sand Palm has been going on for a long time."

"Counting from the generation of the previous sect leader's master, it's been almost fifty years. There have been no fewer than twenty battles, both open and covert, fought."

"I just received confirmation that the Iron Palm team has already sent people to Songjiang."

Mo Feihong's hand gripping the microphone tightened suddenly. "What?"

Zheng Tingyuan's voice rang out again.

"They are also here to attend Mr. Gu Yunzhou's birthday banquet. Mr. Gu and I are old acquaintances, so I am naturally among those invited. At that time, we will inevitably run into the Iron Palm people."

"Openly, they naturally wouldn't dare to make a big fuss; those old guys wouldn't openly break ties at the birthday banquet. But, based on my understanding of them, they'll use the excuse of 'fighting for fun' to have the younger generation come out and compete."

As he spoke, Zheng Tingyuan's tone became slightly more serious. "I've heard that several outstanding talents have emerged in this generation of Iron Palm practitioners. In particular, there is one named Yuan, who is only nineteen years old this year. Although he is only at the Stone Skin Realm, he has already mastered Iron Palm."

Mo Feihong fell silent.

He knew what this meant.

If a junior is defeated in a fight, or even has their cultivation crippled on the spot, the reputation of the Six Harmonies Fist will plummet throughout the entire Songjiang region.

Those who originally respected Zheng Tingyuan and were willing to give Liuhequan some face will reconsider how much that "face" is really worth.

This is no longer a matter of personal honor or disgrace; it is a matter of the sect's reputation.

"So during this time, I have to focus all my efforts on training my little apprentice."

When Zheng Tingyuan mentioned his "little apprentice," his tone softened noticeably, with a hint of barely perceptible pride.

"Let me tell you, although that child is only at the Stone Skin Realm, his understanding of the Six Harmonies Fist is by no means shallow. Some moves, I only need to demonstrate once, and he can remember 70% of them; those key points, others need to be reminded dozens of times to understand, but he understands them after being told a few words."

Mo Feihong listened without interrupting.

"I need to teach him more these days. Maybe he can prove a name for Liuhequan in the future. What if he runs into that Yuan guy with Iron Palm..."

"It's not entirely without a chance of winning."

Upon hearing this, Mo Feihong remained silent for a moment, but finally couldn't help but speak:

"Brother Zheng, this young man of mine has extraordinary blood and energy. He's only at the early stage of the Stone Skin realm, yet he already possesses blood and energy comparable to the middle stage. That's quite rare; he's a truly exceptional talent."

He spoke very quickly, as if afraid of being interrupted.

On the other end of the phone, Zheng Tingyuan gave a soft "Hmm?"

"Strong blood and energy?"

Zheng Tingyuan's tone was calm, yet carried a certainty born of experience: "It's useless."

Mo Feihong choked.

"Old Mo."

"How many so-called geniuses and prodigies have I seen over the years? Some are born with superhuman strength, able to lift a hundred-pound stone weight at the age of seven or eight; some have meridians that are different from ordinary people, their qi and blood being more than 50% stronger than their peers. But how many of these people actually make a name for themselves in the end?"

Zheng Tingyuan paused for a moment and sighed.

"Without a proper lineage, without daily practice, without understanding and reverence for the art of boxing, one cannot go far with just a surge of courage."

"Nowadays, martial arts schools value the ability to comprehend a particular style of boxing, and whether one can 'fully understand' what the founder left behind. It's not about who has the most vigor or the greatest strength."

Mo Feihong opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Indeed, Lin Fusheng's excellence lies in his character, rather than in his talent, innate ability, or understanding.

This kid is indeed strong in terms of blood and energy, but in the eyes of a master of internal strength like Zheng Tingyuan, he is nothing special.

In the end, he just sighed softly.

"Oh well."

"I won't interfere with your training of your apprentice."