Martial King's Retired Life

The two facing off suddenly decided to stroll down the mountain.

Offering his opponent a cupped-fist salute, Hong Jiu praised, “Good stuff. Good stuff. You almost killed me.”

“Too kind. Too kind. It will likely take this one three months to recover from this shoulder injury. You should learn to pull your punches.”

“I can’t do that. If I pulled just a tad, I’d be mincemeat.”

“Who’d you learn your skills from? Bloody hell, you’re good.”

“You are the best adept with palm techniques this one has ever encountered.”

Hong Jiu passed Moyan Changping his pouch of wine.

“It’s hot.”

Despite his complaint, Moyan Changping kept taking swig after swig, prompting Hong Jiu to snatch his pouch back. The pouch didn’t last long when the two of them were engaged in a conversation full of mirth.

“To tell the truth, this one is not very good at drinking. He has dedicated his life to training, so he does not drink. However, this one enjoyed your wine. You are the true definition of a hero. This one is glad to call you a friend.”

Hong Jiu spun around a few steps later, eyes luminous even in the rain. “Regardless of who dies here today, I’ll be calling you my friend from now on.”

Moyan Changping exhaled deliberately. “I fight for my clan. I presume you also can’t stop for your own reasons.”

“Indeed.”

“What a shame…”

It finally occurred to those following the duo that Moyan Changping didn’t follow Hong Jiu down the mountain because he switched allegiances but because they wanted more room to let loose.

Ever since Moyan Changping began training his visual technique at the age of seventeen it had never failed him before without reason. It didn’t work on his father as his father used his Eclipse to conceal his true qi activity, effectively rendering Moyan Changping’s visual skill useless. If Hong Jiu, like his father, was a Divine Realm martial artist, Hong Jiu should’ve decisively won the last round. Furthermore, although he couldn’t see Hong Jiu’s true qi flow, he did see Hong Jiu’s physical movements. If reliance on his visual technique would only confound him, the only logical tactic was to rely purely on his blade work.

Likewise, Hong Jiu could only use his palm techniques if he was to work around Moyan Changping’s visual technique. As long as Moyan Changping could anticipate his movements, Hong Jiu was fighting a losing battle.

In the last round, Hong Jiu had to use all of of his strength to give Moyan Changping a one-arm handicap. In comparison, Moyan Changping nearly sliced Hong Jiu’s collarbone, which would cripple him; that was not to mention Moyan Changping landed it as a last-minute counter. In other words, Moyan Changping’s reaction time, skill and eyes were all honed into deadly weapons. Had Moyan Changping executed the same technique with higher output or Hong Jiu’s strike been a little off target, Hong Jiu would already be dead.

Hong Jiu wasn’t aware he was smiling from ear to ear, revving for round two. Not even he understood why he suddenly laughed heartily. Perhaps he was a battle monger; perchance he just liked to live life on the edge.

Hong Jiu’s laughter splattered the water droplets around and generated a swirling qi column. When he ceased, everything else returned to a state of peace. Anyone with lousy internal energy was grabbing their head and grimacing when he was laughing.

Following a roar, Hong Jiu uncorked a palm attack.

Moyan Changping was unable to view Hong Jiu’s true qi activity as he suspected. His skill didn’t malfunction because, if it was broken, he should’ve been able to observe other things, such as Hong Jiu’s movements or the flow of air around Hong Jiu. If he had that much information, he was basically seeing 70% of Hong Jiu’s intent.

Moyan Changping had never witnessed so much internal energy in a single attack before. No degree of knowledge could help him for Hong Jiu’s power would pulverise all sense of technique.

Moyan Changping closed his eyes and pushed his blade down into his scabbard. Once he felt the pressure impede his breathing, he drew his blade from its sheath so fast that he split raindrops in his path before his blade made contact with them.

Hong Jiu’s thunderous strike collided against Moyan Changping’s silent slash. Moyan Changping could proudly claim advanced status with his slash, but advanced wasn’t enough to win against Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

Upon impact, Hong Jiu’s “The Dragon Fights in the Wilderness” doubled in power, Moyan Changping had accurately aimed his edge at Hong Jiu’s neck. Alas, being right-handed, he struggled to keep up.

Hong Jiu overcame his instinct to catch Moyan Changqing, lowering his extended arm.

A man caught Moyan Changping’s fall, then siphoned internal energy over, dispersing energy from Moyan Changping’s dantian to his limbs for healing.

“You can ask questions later. Focus on recalibrating your breath.”

“Dad?!”

Though Moyan Luohou sequestered to the rear of Shaman Monarch Palace, he wasn’t as dishevelled as Martial Paragon. The way he caught his son, who wore similar garments to him, and kick-started the healing process demonstrated that he had little to no ring rust.

“D-Dad, why have you come out from seclusion?”

Studying Hong Jiu meticulously, the man wearing the bamboo hat replied, “I’m here to watch.”

Once his father removed his hand from his shoulder, Moyan Changping hurried to his feet to point his weapon at Hong Jiu. “Brother Hong, this one respects you as a man. He shall not fight you with a handicap. We can resume two hours from now. This one can give his word: his father will not intervene even if he is in attendance.”

“There’s no need to plead.”

In truth, Moyan Changping wasn’t looking for round three since he wasn’t delusional. The reason he offered a two hour interim was to prevent his father from bringing him dishonour after he officially challenged Hong Jiu. It’d grant Hong Jiu time to flee if he wished, as well.

Hong Jiu wiped his forehead and adjusted his breathing: “Heh, don’t you worry about me. He looks too tired for this. He wouldn’t interfere with our match, would he?”

“Ping’er.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You lost without a shadow of doubt.”

Moyan Luohou’s declaration scorched Moyan Changping’s face.

“Indeed, Brother Hong is more skilled than I am.”

“No, you didn’t lose to him due to a lack of skill. Your last strike showed that you two are extremely close in skill. The difference between you is your internal energy potency. He is only a fraction away from qualifying as one of the greats. If he uses Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms at maximum output, your visual technique will not catch him. His internal energy is, at least, three times more potent than yours.”

Moyan Changping didn’t expect to hear the discrepancy was that big when he was several years older than Hong Jiu.

“You got a good pair of eyes, Sir. My brother was right about you. You definitely are worthy of being called Moyan Luobo.”

Moyan Luohou thought nothing of being called a radish unlike his son. Looking past Hong Jiu, he demanded, “Tell the one behind the scenes to show himself.”