The ultimate master in the city

Chapter 29: The Nine Yin White Bone Claws and Tang Clan Hidden Weapons

Monk Yimu and the others stood below the arena waiting for Zhou Fengchen. Jiang Suoshen was a little nervous and asked in a low voice, "Uncle-Master, you've seen this person, how confident are you?"

Monk Yimu scratched his bald head and said, "What's the use of asking this now? Whether you're confident or not, you have to go. It's a martial arts competition; you either win or you lose, that's all. I'm not afraid of losing face."

Jiang Suoshen looked embarrassed and said, "If we win, we can get a lot of money, but if we lose..."

"Is that so..."

Monk Yimu thought about it seriously for a moment and said, "Judging from his aura and physique alone, he should be inferior to me. My chances of winning are at least 60%, but he gives me a very strange feeling..."

"What's strange about it?" Jiang Suoshen asked urgently.

Monk Yimu shook his head: "Forget it, you wouldn't understand even if I told you."

Jiang Suoshen furtively pulled a strange little box from his pocket and stuffed it into the hand of Monk Yimu. "This is a hidden weapon that I bought from the Tang family in western Sichuan at a high price. You take it, and I guarantee it will be foolproof."

Monk Yimu glanced at him, casually stuffed the item into his pocket, and said, "I'm going up."

The host then stepped off the stage, and Monk Yimu and Zhou Fengchen went up onto the ring together, looking at each other.

The nearly one thousand audience members were infected by the loud music deliberately played by the sound engineer, which aroused their most primal violent desires and made them shout wildly. Among them, Chen Siya and Qi Qi and a few other girls shouted the loudest.

In fact, most people don't think highly of Zhou Fengchen. They analyze it from their own perspective. First, Zhou Fengchen's physique is too different from that of Monk Yimu. Second, Shaolin monks always give people a mysterious and highly skilled feeling.

"This short guy is good-looking, but his physique doesn't look good; he'll probably lose."

"He might try to hide; as long as he doesn't get caught by that monk, it'll be fine."

"Can blindly dodging be called a martial arts competition?"

……

On stage, Monk Yimu was also having his own thoughts. He was thinking about how to win more skillfully and gracefully if his opponent wasn't good enough, so that he could get more money from the sponsors.

Zhou Fengchen didn't care, staring at the black mole on Monk Yimu's chin, finding it quite amusing.

The two remained locked in a standoff for twenty seconds before Monk Yimu clasped his hands together and said, "Amitabha! This humble monk is Yimu of Shaolin."

Zhou Fengchen offered a Taoist greeting: "Amitabha! I am a junior disciple of Patriarch Bodhi of Xieyue Cave on Fangcun Mountain."

"Whoa!"

The audience erupted in boos. Everyone had read Journey to the West. Who was the junior disciple of Bodhi Patriarch? Wasn't that Sun Wukong?

Monk Yimu's cheeks twitched: "Boy! What nonsense are you spouting?"

"What's it to you?"

"Come on then!" Monk Yimu clenched his fists and swung them forcefully, making a "slap slap" sound, assuming a beautiful starting stance.

"Shaolin Tiger-Taming Arhat Fist?"

Zhou Fengchen had been forced by Zhou Daoxing to identify countless martial arts styles since childhood. As long as the enemy used the authentic style, he could usually tell the difference. He chuckled and stretched out a palm.

"beat!"

Monk Yimu made the first move, leaping forward and throwing a punch with great force.

"Three variations: feint to the left, feint to the middle, and lean to the right. The intention is to attack the right flank. Revealing the purpose too early shows that the skill is not yet up to par."

Zhou Fengchen even had time to speak. The moment Monk Yimu arrived, he swayed and threw a punch, shouting, "I won't let you have your way! Take this!"

Monk Yimu's eyes widened as he realized that his opponent's simple move had completely sealed him off, leaving him no choice but to take the hit head-on!

The two fists drew closer and closer, and the audience below held their breath.

"Snapped!"

With a crisp sound, Zhou Fengchen landed lightly, his body motionless, while Monk Yimu staggered back seven or eight steps until he crashed into the railing of the arena.

"Wow!" A chorus of cheers erupted from the audience. Everyone could see that the monk was no match for the "little guy."

"This...this is so illogical!"

"What's so unscientific about it? Shorter people are more skilled in martial arts!"

"The short guy is the real master!"

Among them, Chen Siya and her friends were the happiest: "Brother, you're the best! Hehehe..."

……

"Uncle-Master!" Jiang Suoshen's expression changed drastically.

Monk Yimu waved his hand, his expression solemn, and resumed his starting stance, but this time changed his fist to a palm.

"The Great Monument-Smashing Hand?" Zhou Fengchen nodded, still extending one palm.

"Take this!" Monk Yimu moved swiftly, but his burly body swayed like duckweed.

"So this is your specialty. Not bad!"

Zhou Fengchen smiled and charged forward, even faster. When he reached Monk Yimu, he stretched out his right arm to block two palm strikes, then leaned in and rammed his hand, wrist, and elbow into Monk Yimu's chest three times.

boom! boom! boom!

Monk Yimu could clearly see his opponent's pattern, but he couldn't dodge it. He was struck dumb, his face turned pale, and he staggered backward, crashing into the arena railing again, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

boom!

The entire venue erupted in cheers!

"That's incredible! He's made me cough up blood!"

"What's that short guy's name? Wow, awesome!"

"They're not even in the same league!"

Qi Qi and the other girls' eyes lit up. "Wow! He's so handsome—I can't take it—"

Chen Siya, feeling proud, said with a grin, "Look who his brother is! This monk is no match for him at all! Humph!"

On the other side, Jiang Suoshen's face was ashen. "Master...Master Uncle, are you...are you alright?"

Monk Yimu wiped his mouth, leaned on the railing, glared at Zhou Fengchen, and remained silent.

"Are you alright?" Zhou Fengchen asked with a smile.

Monk Yimu shook his head and asked, "May I ask, how many levels of power did you use?"

Zhou Fengchen said, "Do you want to hear the truth?"

"Of course!" Monk Yimu gritted his teeth.

Zhou Fengchen held up one finger: "First level! So, let's end it here, okay?"

"I don't believe it!"

Suddenly, Monk Yimu roared and pounced forward, his hand forming a claw, his momentum fierce, as if he were fighting to the death.

"The Seventy-Two Shaolin Arts?! You bastard, are you trying to kill me?"

Zhou Fengchen cursed loudly, took two steps back, and assumed a starting stance: "Martial Six, Nine Yin White Bone Claw!"

As he spoke, he also formed a claw with one hand and lunged fiercely. His hand changed seven times in the middle of the attack. The first time, he broke through the monk Yimu's attack. The next six times, he grabbed the monk's arm and chest. In an instant, the monk's robe was torn and his body was covered in blood. He screamed and fell to the ground with a "thud".

The audience was completely silent, stunned. It was exciting, but... wouldn't someone die?

"It's over! I'm done!" Zhou Fengchen said impatiently, waving his hand and turning to leave. He glanced casually at the window below and exclaimed "Huh?" Then, when he looked again, his eyes widened in surprise.

"You...you...you..." Monk Yimu staggered to his feet, pointing at Zhou Fengchen's back, his face full of disbelief: "Your moves are different from those of us who practice martial arts. You must be a Taoist priest, right? The Nine Yin White Bone Claw is a lost secret technique of Shaolin. Where did you steal it from?"

Zhou Fengchen remained silent, staring intently downstairs through the glass window.

Monk Yimu gritted his teeth, pulled a small box from his pocket, and forcefully pressed the button on Zhou Fengchen's head: "Die!"

Whoosh!

A tiny embroidery needle pierced straight into Zhou Fengchen's heart.

Hearing the sound of wind breaking, Zhou Fengchen trembled slightly, the embroidery needle already tightly held between his two fingers.

Monk Yimu's eyes widened. In that instant, he clearly saw Zhou Fengchen's body change position three times. His reaction was so fast that it was almost instinctive. This person... is too terrifying!

"Idiot! You can't beat them, so you resort to underhanded tactics!" Zhou Fengchen cursed, then flung the embroidery needle into the calf of Monk Yimu, before opening the glass window amidst his screams and jumping from the third floor.

"Ah! He jumped off a building! He's gone mad!"

"Someone has died!"

Chaos erupted in the audience; the roar of discussion drowned out the screams of Monk Yimu.

"Brother!" Chen Siya shouted and climbed onto the arena. When she got to the window, she looked down and saw Zhou Fengchen chasing a bald man downstairs, completely unharmed.