Martial arts immortality begins with upgrading buildings.

"You need evidence to back up your claims. You say Wang Kun was killed by our newly appointed deacon, where's the evidence?"

Xie Wuji spoke slowly and casually, his tone nonchalant.

Qiu Xiaotian didn't answer, but just tilted his head to the side behind him.

A shrewd-looking man in his forties immediately stepped out of the private room and shouted downstairs, "Bring the person up."

Soon, two burly men in black carried a corpse into the private room.

Behind them followed a pale-faced man whose legs were trembling, his head bowed and he dared not look at anyone.

The corpse had a bluish-gray face, a sunken area in its chest, and a clear shoe print on its black short jacket.

"Tell me what happened yesterday."

The shrewd-looking middle-aged man spoke to the man who followed him in.

"Yesterday, Deacon Zhao fought with Deacon Wang. Deacon Wang was injured and retreated, and Deacon Zhao pursued him."

We later chased him into the alley and found that Deacon Wang was already dead.

At that time, only Deacon Zhao and the new deacon named Chen Qing were in the alley.

The man kept his head down, his voice trembling, and dared not look up.

"Thank you, Chief. These are words spoken by your own people."

As far as I know, Zhao Hai of your gang is most skilled in knife techniques, and he kills people with a single, fatal blow.

Wang Kun died from having his heart crushed by someone with tremendous force, and there were shoe prints on his clothes on his chest.

The truth will be revealed by comparing the evidence.

The shrewd middle-aged man looked at Xie Wuji and pointed to the footprint on the corpse's chest.

Xie Wuji didn't respond, knowing he couldn't explain himself.

He had heard Zhao Hai say that Chen Qing, a new member of the gang, had just broken through to the Martial Master level.

Wang Lie had recently defeated three experts in external strength, and was in the limelight; even he had heard of him.

Chen Qing was no match for him.

He was unwilling to let his men die in vain.

So I prepared to refuse on the spot.

At this moment, Liu Yuanzong suddenly spoke.

"People in the martial arts world must abide by the rules: a life for a life, a debt for a debt. I think Xiaotian's request is very reasonable."

He stroked his beard and said slowly, "Since your men broke the rules first, let these two settle this fistfight. Whoever wins gets the dock, and all grudges are wiped clean."

"No, these are two different things."

Xie Wuji immediately refused.

As soon as Liu Yuanzong opened his mouth, he knew something was wrong.

This is clearly an attempt to use revenge as a pretext to win over the territory of Yonekura Ferry.

"Wuji, are you trying to embarrass me?"

Liu Yuanzong's eyes widened, and the iron gall in his hand suddenly stopped, instantly creating a tense atmosphere in the private room.

Xie Wuji narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing in his long, narrow pupils. With a slight movement of his slender fingers, a small crack appeared in the teacup in his hand, spreading out like a spider web and instantly covering the entire cup.

But then he seemed to remember something, his brows relaxed, he loosened his grip on the teacup, and took a sip.

"We must give Elder Liu face, so I agree to this."

He put down his teacup and said softly, "However, Chen Qing has just entered the martial arts world, while Wang Lie is already a renowned martial artist. It's not fair to fight like this. I need three months to let him prepare."

"Three months is too long."

Qiu Xiaotian said in a deep voice.

"Let's do it for a month. Wuji, you should also be understanding. Someone died on Xiaotian's side, and it's not right to drag this out for too long. A month later, we'll hold a challenge at Micang Ferry. No matter if it's life or death, we'll settle all grudges."

Liu Yuanzong's words were the final word.

"Alright, see you in the ring in a month."

Xie Wuji got up and was about to leave the private room when he suddenly stopped at the door.

He didn't turn around, but simply turned his palm and flicked his finger behind him.

"boom--"

With a muffled thud, a hole the size of a bowl exploded in the chest of the man huddled in the corner, splattering blood and bits of flesh all over the ground.

He didn't even have time to scream before his body fell straight down.

The private room was deathly silent.

Qiu Xiaotian's face was ashen, and the several hall masters behind him subconsciously gripped their sword hilts, their hands trembling slightly.

Liu Yuanzong paused, his gaze darkening slightly, but he remained silent.

Xie Wuji withdrew his hand and gently wiped his fingertips with his sleeve, an elegant gesture as if he were brushing away dust.

He tilted his head slightly, revealing a section of his fair profile.

"What I hate most is a traitor."

After saying that, he stepped out of the private room and disappeared from everyone's sight.

Just then, the teacup on the table suddenly shattered.

Fragments flew everywhere, and tea was spilled all over the table.

Qiu Xiaotian suddenly turned his head, staring at the pile of broken porcelain, a look of horror flashing in his eyes.

Liu Yuanzong stood up abruptly, his eyes revealing deep apprehension.

"Xiaotian, this person... is unfathomable."

His voice was deep, and his throat bobbed slightly: "Your Yihe Gang might not be able to control him."

......

Outside the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.

Xie Wuji got into a rickshaw, leaned back against the back of the rickshaw, rested his chin on his hand, and looked languid.

"How can we get Chen Qing to win? This is really a difficult situation!"

He sighed softly, frowned slightly, and fell into deep thought.

After a moment, he seemed to have thought of something, and a look of joy appeared on his face.

He turned to the refined-looking subordinate in the other car and said, "Pass the word down that Chen Qing should come to the gang to see me tomorrow."

"Yes."

The subordinate adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and nodded in response.

......

Wujiquan Club, Inner Courtyard.

Chen Qing spent an afternoon learning the basic moves of Wujiquan.

After he practiced the technique completely, a line of small text appeared before his eyes, and his personal panel changed accordingly.

[Wuji Fist +1]

[Skill: Wuji Fist (1/100)]

At the same time, a sudden realization dawned on him.

So he immediately assumed a stance and began practicing the first move of the Wuji Eight Forms.

Although his movements weren't exactly standard, when he threw his fist, he subconsciously gathered all the power in his body into his palm.

"Open the mountain!"

He felt a sudden jolt in his heart.

He slammed his right fist forward, and a slight muffled sound filled the air.

At this moment, Hong Zhenbang, who was leisurely rocking in the rocking chair, suddenly stopped rocking, straightened up and looked at Chen Qing, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

That muffled thud was the sound of energy being gathered in one place and concealed without exploding.

This is a highly advanced technique that can only be mastered by having a very deep understanding of Bajiquan.

Even grasping just the basics can greatly enhance the explosive power of a move.

Chen Qing is just a beginner, how could he possibly master it?

He shook his head, thinking to himself that he was probably overthinking things.

Chen Qing threw a punch and then stopped, a hint of joy flashing in his eyes.

As his experience with Wujiquan increased, he grasped a sliver of the technique for generating power.

Previously, whether it was killing Zhang Mazi or Chen Kui, it was all about activating the critical strike talent and unleashing brute force.

But with that punch just now, he learned how to initially mobilize his power and achieve a stronger effect.

Without a doubt, this is the effect brought about by the blessing of the meditation room.

Chen Qing took a deep breath, suppressed his excitement, and resumed his stance, practicing each move one by one.

Sweat quickly soaked through his clothes, and his muscles ached unbearably, but he was completely oblivious, his eyes fixed only on the air in front of him, as if an invisible opponent stood there.