Flower Stealing Master

Seeing that Zhang Sanfeng remained unresponsive, Xuan Ci could only sigh in frustration. Although he wanted to assist the Sweeping Monk, he knew that the martial skills of his group were far too inferior. If they joined the battle, they wouldn’t be of any help and would only hinder their companions. Xuan Cheng had been the best candidate to assist. With his strength, he was qualified to join the fight, but unfortunately, he had been injured by that foreign monk during the day.

Thinking of this, Xuan Ci grew even more resentful. As expected, this was all part of Wudang’s scheme—first colluding with the demonic cult leader and the western foreign monk to injure Shaolin’s elite, weakening their strength, and making it easier to sneak in at midnight.

At this moment, the surroundings were utterly silent. The gathered Shaolin experts watched the duel before them, their hearts filled with indescribable shock.

In the martial world, when top experts exchanged moves, each technique usually carried a renowned name. If one person used the ‘Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms’, the opponent would counter with the ‘Nine Swords of Dugu’. Their battles were often famous duels between legendary techniques. However, the two combatants before them completely shattered this perception.

With a light palm strike, the Sweeping Monk executed a move that no one recognized. It seemed utterly ordinary, as if any countryside farmer could casually step aside to dodge it. Yet Zhang Sanfeng treated it as a dire threat, refusing to evade. Instead, he countered by punching straight toward the descending palm.

If Song Qingshu had been present, he would have been in awe. In the original novel, Murong Bo, a martial arts genius, had faced this very move and chose to raise his hand in defense while drifting backward. The Murong Clan of Gusu was already renowned for its formidable techniques, and after Murong Bo mastered Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques, his skills became even more unparalleled. His movement appeared simple—raising a hand, retreating slightly—but it was a perfect counter. That single block neutralized all attacks, and that single retreat evaded all pursuits. His defense was so seamless and graceful that it seemed flawless.

Yet, despite his mastery, he was still struck by the Sweeping Monk’s light palm on his ‘Baihui’ acupoint and instantly perished.

Though Zhang Sanfeng had never seen this move before, his century of experience allowed him to sense its hidden peril. Unlike Murong Bo, he chose not to retreat but to meet the attack head-on with his fist, breaking through the technique directly.

As Zhang Sanfeng threw his punch, the Shaolin monks gasped in astonishment once again. They couldn’t understand the Sweeping Monk’s palm technique, nor could they recognize Zhang Sanfeng’s punch. They all silently marveled in their hearts: ‘When martial arts reach such a profound level, who still relies on named techniques? A mere palm strike, a simple tap, or a casual kick is enough to defeat most experts in the world.’  

Throughout Jin Yong’s fourteen novels, only two people had reached this realm—Zhang Sanfeng and the Sweeping Monk. Other masters, no matter how formidable, still required techniques in battle. Whether it was Zhang Wuji, whose martial arts abilities were nearly unparalleled, or Shi Potian, the protagonist of ‘Ode to Gallantry’, they still had to exchange dozens or even hundreds of moves against top experts. But Zhang Sanfeng and the Sweeping Monk? With just a few strikes, they ended fights, leaving no trace of what techniques they had even used.

With a single grab, Zhang Sanfeng had subdued the Xuanming Elders. Later, when ambushed by Gangxiang, he was heavily injured but still killed him with one palm. Similarly, the Sweeping Monk had ended the lives of both Murong Bo and Xiao Yuanshan with just a single strike each.

Protagonists like Zhang Wuji and Guo Jing used legendary techniques—’Heaven and Earth Great Shift’, ‘Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms’—every move was famous. But who could name Zhang Sanfeng’s grab? Who could describe the nature of his palm strike? What exactly was the Sweeping Monk’s light tap?

At their level, the simplest moves produced far greater results than any of the so-called divine martial arts.

Their punches and kicks seemed ordinary at first glance, and onlookers couldn’t grasp their profundity. Only much later would they realize that, in that specific moment, those exact movements had been the absolute best responses. Yet by the time they comprehended it, dozens of exchanges had already passed, and they had missed the details of what had transpired.

The Sweeping Monk’s gaze swept around, instantly grasping the entire situation. Though Shaolin had the advantage in numbers, they were unable to turn it into an actual victory. A thought stirred in his heart—under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded letting things play out, but Zhang Sanfeng was in the wrong for trespassing into Shaolin’s forbidden grounds at night. Moreover, this was a rare opportunity, and he was tempted to ensure that Zhang Sanfeng remained here permanently. A plan formed in his mind as he suddenly advanced toward Zhang Sanfeng, forcing him into a direct clash of internal strength.

Zhang Sanfeng frowned slightly. He could have avoided the move, but doing so would mean losing the initiative. His opponent’s martial skills were on par with his own, and once he ceded the advantage, a relentless assault would follow, putting him at greater risk.

Moreover, with a hundred years of cultivation, Zhang Sanfeng’s True Qi flowed continuously, circulating smoothly within his dantian like misty smoke—what was known as ‘Purple Qi Enshrouding’. When it came to internal strength battles, he feared no one in the world. In fact, this might even be a shortcut to victory.

Having made up his mind, Zhang Sanfeng raised his hands to meet the Sweeping Monk’s palm. As their palms collided, an invisible force rippled outward, forcing even experts like Xuan Ci to stagger backward.

Zhang Sanfeng’s internal strength was vast, but the Sweeping Monk’s was no weaker.

Forty years ago, before he had entered Shaolin, the Sweeping Monk had already been a legendary figure in the martial world—an existence so powerful that ordinary people had no chance of encountering him. After spending four decades in Shaolin and mastering its supreme arts, his martial prowess had reached an unprecedented level. Now, as he clashed with Zhang Sanfeng in a battle of internal strength, the outcome was evenly matched.

Xuan Ci knew this was not a sustainable situation. Though the Sweeping Monk’s cultivation was profound, Zhang Sanfeng had stood undefeated in the martial world for over a hundred years. If this dragged on, the Sweeping Monk might not be able to endure. Determined to intervene, Xuan Ci called out, “Master Zhang, this is not a friendly exchange of techniques. You have trespassed into our temple’s forbidden grounds. Do not blame us for using numbers to secure victory.”

However, Xuan Ci was also self-aware—he and the others were far too weak in comparison. If they engaged in close combat, they would only be injured by the shockwaves of the battle. Fortunately, Shaolin martial arts included many long-range techniques. Dozens of monks surrounded Zhang Sanfeng, launching their long-range attacks from a distance to distract him. In an internal strength duel, the most dangerous factor was disruption. As long as they could interfere with Zhang Sanfeng’s concentration, the Sweeping Monk would emerge victorious.

Zhang Sanfeng had never expected that these supposedly virtuous Shaolin monks would stoop so low, launching a sneak attack while he was locked in a duel of internal strength. His heart trembled—‘Are they truly so desperate to keep me here? Could it be that Yuanqiao and the others really fell victim to Shaolin’s schemes?’

Upon Xuan Ci’s signal, the Shaolin monks unleashed their signature techniques—’Flower Pinching Finger’, ‘Animitta Kalpa Finger’, ‘Vajra Palm’—dozens of long-range strikes aimed at Zhang Sanfeng’s back and sides.

A wave of shock surged through Zhang Sanfeng’s mind. He knew that at this critical moment, if he allowed these attacks to land, he would have no chance of survival. Gritting his teeth, he made a decision—to suffer injuries if necessary, but first, he had to unleash his internal strength and repel the Sweeping Monk.

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