Zhao Wuji was embedded in the wall, staring at Jikong in disbelief, watching as the movements were light, utterly lacking in force, and completely ordinary—easily breakable—yet so bizarrely effective that he couldn't even fathom how he had been struck.

"Aargh—!" He let out a fierce roar, burst free with a "bang," and charged toward Jikong again.

Jikong strode forward to meet him, throwing a punch straight down. With a "bang," Zhao Wuji was sent flying back to his original position, now embedded even deeper, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Jikong slowly retracted his fist, snorting, "Zhao Wuji, this isn't the place for you to show off. Get lost now!"

Zhao Wuji’s eyes widened. "Your boxing style?"

"Arhat Fist!" Jikong replied proudly.

His heart was both shocked and delighted. His feeling from before was indeed correct; in the span of one hour, he had practiced the fist technique tens of thousands of times, and now, in reality, he could execute it effortlessly, purely by instinct, without needing his brain to process it, and the power was astonishing.

Zhao Wuji’s martial arts skill was far superior to his own, so he never imagined defeating him so easily. It was truly inconceivable, almost divine.

If this story got out, others wouldn't believe it; it was truly too miraculous.

"Arhat Fist?" Zhao Wuji slowly struggled free and sneered, "I underestimated you!"

Jikong frowned at him. Zhao Wuji twisted his neck, rotated his torso, and a sound like popping beans erupted as his joints cracked loudly.

Inside the Donglai Tower, Old Hu’s hand paused in stroking his beard. He frowned, "This local Zhao Wuji is quite formidable!"

Steward Zheng nodded. "Although Jikong has mastered an exquisite fist technique, his cultivation is still a level below. The punches hitting Zhao Wuji are like mere tickles."

Old Hu furrowed his brow. "What is to be done? If this continues, Jikong will eventually suffer."

"This Arhat Fist was taught by Master Zhanran; perhaps there are other methods," Steward Zheng offered.

"Let’s hope so," Old Hu murmured, tugging his long beard while staring intently outside the tower.

Zhao Wuji advanced slowly, step by deliberate step, closing the distance. Jikong stood still, neither rushing nor retreating, his eyes narrowed, fixed on his opponent with an unmoving expression.

Zhao Wuji grinned widely. "Kid, you have guts. Take this palm strike next! Hah!"

The sharp shout boomed like a clap of thunder, momentarily blacking out the vision of everyone nearby. When their sight returned, Zhao Wuji’s palm was already inches from Jikong’s chest.

Jikong stepped sideways quickly, his fist shooting out like a meteor. Though it seemed slow, it struck Zhao Wuji squarely on the heart.

"Bang!" Zhao Wuji was sent flying backward again, slamming into the wall, landing a foot away from his previous spot.

Jikong shot out like an arrow released from a bowstring. Before Zhao Wuji could react, his fist descended again, hitting the heart once more. "Bang!"—a sound like a drum being struck—Zhao Wuji’s body felt hollow.

Old Hu stroked his beard in admiration. "What incredible fist force! When did Jikong achieve such mastery?"

This was due to the fist force achieving the 'striking through the mountain' technique; the force penetrated the first layer of resistance and impacted the second, creating that peculiar sound.

"It must be the achievement of Master Zhanran!" Steward Zheng exclaimed. "I must ask Little Four to become his disciple too!"

"Master Zhanran might not even deign to accept Little Four!" Old Hu chuckled, stroking his beard.

Zhao Wuji spat out a stream of bloody mist; he was clearly injured. Old Hu relaxed, stroking his beard with a smile.

Steward Zheng commented, "With such a profound master before him, it would be a great pity to miss this opportunity. Let’s see what fortune he meets!"

As the two were speaking, Jikong drove out another punch, again aimed at Zhao Wuji’s heart. Zhao Wuji coughed up another spurt of blood and closed his eyes.

"Jikong, stop hitting him!" Zheng Xiao Si rushed over and hugged him. "If you kill him, you’ll break your vows!"

Jikong instantly snapped back to awareness and stopped struggling, glaring hatefully at Zhao Wuji. "Damn it, I’ll spare this bastard today!"

"Watch your mouth! Watch your mouth!" Zheng Xiao Si hurriedly cried. "Mind your words; you are now a disciple of Master Zhanran!"

Jikong slapped his own mouth, then glared at Zhao Wuji. "Xiao Si, help me find a doctor to look at him and save his wretched life!"

"Consider it done!" Zheng Xiao Si nodded eagerly. "I absolutely won't let him die!"

Jikong turned and scanned the crowd, snorting, "This Zhao Wuji is a notorious bandit. Everyone be careful tonight and lock your doors tight!"

The crowd broke into applause, with someone shouting, "Qi Er, you’ve truly gained skill!"

Jikong laughed. "Just a small demonstration. Master taught me a fist technique on the spot; dealing with Zhao Wuji was child’s play!"

"Master Zhanran knows martial arts?" someone asked.

Jikong beamed proudly. "Master's Buddhist teachings are profound, his divine abilities vast, and his martial arts are equally deep!"

"Master Zhanran is truly remarkable..." The crowd murmured in admiration.

Jikong was overjoyed listening to their praise of his master. He entered the tavern, bid farewell to Old Hu and Steward Zheng, and then returned to Yuanxin Temple, leaving everything in Zheng Xiao Si’s care.

Jikong walked back feeling light, replaying the recent events. He felt bewildered and somewhat unable to believe it.

Was the person who defeated Zhao Wuji just now really himself? It felt like a dream, a dream where he possessed divine power and vanquished Zhao Wuji.

But Zhao Wuji had deep cultivation and formidable martial arts; how could he have won?

Reflecting on every move and stance now, he felt he couldn't have countered any of them. Yet, back then, he had executed the fist technique naturally, purely on subconscious reaction, without thinking.

If he had paused to think, he feared he wouldn't have managed Zhao Wuji. He had unconsciously mastered an exquisite fist technique—it was truly miraculous.

Had he really defeated Zhao Wuji? Did he truly defeat him by executing that boxing form?!

He kept turning this question over and over in his mind, and without realizing it, he arrived back at Yuanxin Temple. He saw his Master, standing before the main hall, slowly demonstrating a set of movements—it was the very Arhat Fist he had just used.

He stopped moving and quietly observed his Master’s form, trying to grasp the profound subtleties within.

Li Muzhan slowly concluded his movements, calmly regarding him for a moment, and spoke gently, "Jikong, did you win?"

"Yes, Master," Jikong nodded respectfully.

Li Muzhan flicked his monk’s robe. "Did you kill him?"

Jikong shook his head. "Your disciple dared not break the vows; I spared his life."

Li Muzhan paused momentarily, musing before nodding. "Mmm, you understand the precepts and know when to stop. Rare indeed! Then, you injured him?"

Jikong nodded. "Your disciple wounded him, but Zheng Xiao Si will find a doctor to treat him; it’s not serious."

Li Muzhan shook his head. "When will he recover?"

"Although he lost consciousness, the injury isn't too severe; it shouldn't take too long," Jikong replied.

Li Muzhan shook his head. "You are mistaken."

"I am mistaken, Master?" Jikong was momentarily stunned. "Does Master mean I should have killed him?"

Li Muzhan stated, "It is not worth breaking the killing precept for such a man. You should have crippled him, preventing him from causing further harm later—that would have been a meritorious deed."

Jikong considered this, slowly nodded, and turned to leave. Li Muzhan waved a hand. "Forget it. Time waits for no man. The opportunity has passed; perhaps next time."

"I fear he might escape," Jikong worried.

Li Muzhan shook his head. "Have someone watch him. Act when he tries to flee."

"...Yes." Jikong hesitated, then slowly nodded, glancing back at Li Muzhan.

Li Muzhan smiled. "Surprised?"

"I never expected Master to be so open-minded," Jikong laughed.

Li Muzhan explained, "Punishing evil and promoting good, subduing demons and monsters, is the work of Buddhist disciples. However, the killing precept must not be broken lightly, as it impedes your future cultivation. Breaking the vow for someone you could have merely disabled is foolish; crippling his martial arts so he cannot do evil is sufficient."

"Master, some people are inherently wicked; they can still cause harm even without martial arts," Jikong countered.

Li Muzhan smiled. "Then cripple his hands and feet."

"Your disciple understands!" Jikong said cheerfully.

It seemed this Master was not just a pedantic benevolent man; dispensing both thunderous authority and gentle rain—this was a truly enlightened figure, unlike the previous old monks who only preached kindness and could not discipline the wicked when they met them.

Li Muzhan continued, "You have practiced the Arhat Fist, but your inner strength cultivation is still too weak. This fist technique is also an internal force cultivation method. Practice it diligently."

"Yes, Master," Jikong affirmed. "This Arhat Fist is truly a formidable technique. I will certainly practice it well, Master can rest assured!"

Li Muzhan gave a slight nod. "I will not be here every night. If there is an emergency, crush this to summon me."

He took out a piece of white jade pendant from his robes and handed it to Jikong. "I will stay in the town for two months, and after two months, I will leave for Fenghua City."

"Yes," Jikong accepted the jade pendant with both hands.

Li Muzhan stated, "If you cannot reach the Grandmaster level in these two months, our master-disciple fate will be concluded."

"Ah—!?" Jikong was greatly alarmed.

Li Muzhan smiled gently. "Work hard now."

"Master?" Jikong scratched his head, troubled. "Becoming a Grandmaster in two months, this... this..."

Li Muzhan clarified, "The internal method of the Arhat Fist is extremely profound. With strenuous effort, there is a slim chance. It depends on whether you can seize it."

"...Yes, Master!" Jikong slowly nodded.

Li Muzhan waved his hand. "Go attend to your duties."

That night, Li Muzhan vanished from Yuanxin Temple in a flicker, reappearing in the small courtyard on Hengbo Island. Inside, Feng Mingxue sat quietly, holding a teacup, gazing at the moonlight.

The bright moon hung like a silver platter, its light flowing like water.

"Senior Sister," Li Muzhan said cheerfully.

Feng Mingxue, clad in a snow-white silk robe, her face like white jade, turned her head. Her watery gaze swept over him briefly before she asked lightly, "What have you been busy with these past few days?"

Li Muzhan smiled. "I have found a new cultivation method and am currently testing it."

"How is the effect?" Feng Mingxue inquired.

Li Muzhan nodded. "It seems quite good for now."

He sat across from Feng Mingxue and chuckled. "Sister, your seclusion this time yielded great gains too; your power has greatly increased!"

"Still far from Great Grandmaster," Feng Mingxue demurred.

Li Muzhan insisted, "Great Grandmasters are met by chance, not sought out. Sister, you are too obsessed, which hinders your progress. You must strive for actionless action (Wu Wei)."

"I don't understand," Feng Mingxue shook her head.

Li Muzhan pondered for a moment. "Sister, seeing through the mortal world is your greatest obstacle. In truth, reaching Great Grandmaster requires seeing through all conditioned phenomena in the world. But Sister is currently halfway there, and this final half-step is incredibly difficult. The method I conceived is to enter the world first, then leave it. Sister has never truly entered the world, so she cannot truly leave it."

Feng Mingxue considered this, then shook her head. "Still unclear!"

Li Muzhan picked up his teacup and took a sip, thinking. "Let me explain more clearly. Sister needs to truly experience things first; you must roll around in the dust of the mortal world, genuinely experiencing the myriad forms of human life, only then can you truly see through and comprehend it, achieving the realm of Great Grandmaster."

"And you?" Feng Mingxue smiled. "At your young age, have you truly experienced all the world's ways, have you rolled in the dust of the mortal realm?"

Li Muzhan replied, "Sister, although I am young, my experiences are not small. I still remember everything from my previous life. I have never told anyone about this."

Feng Mingxue pursed her lips and smiled. "Nonsense."

Li Muzhan laughed. "In my last life, I lived in another world where the spiritual energy was insufficient, and the power of martial arts was inferior to this world. However, it placed greater emphasis on the finesse of technique. I had excellent talent and fortune, and eventually became the top expert in the world at a young age."

Feng Mingxue shook her head with a soft laugh, taking a small sip of her tea, too lazy to argue further.

Li Muzhan continued, "Sister doesn't believe me, but there's nothing to be done about it. However, to become a Great Grandmaster, one must grasp the principle governing the operation of the world—this is never wrong. Spending a lifetime in secluded cultivation will make breakthrough difficult."

"Mmm, I understand," Feng Mingxue nodded slightly. "After I finish this period of seclusion, I will travel the world and truly observe it."

Li Muzhan smiled. "That’s right. Sister's noble pride, untouched by the mundane, will never allow you to become a Great Grandmaster."

Feng Mingxue glanced at him sideways. "What are you trying to say?"

Li Muzhan grinned. "The affairs of men and women—Sister cannot avoid them entirely."

"Stop talking nonsense!" Feng Mingxue shot him a look, playfully chiding him. "You haven't visited Sister Hai these past few days, have you?"

"I have been going consistently," Li Muzhan confirmed.

Feng Mingxue waved her hand. "Alright, I know. I’m going back."

The next morning, Li Muzhan returned to his meditation room and was about to meditate when Jikong’s footsteps sounded outside, stopping at the door. "Master."

Li Muzhan said, "Come in."

Jikong pushed the door open, head bowed. "Master, Zheng Xiao Si also wishes to become a disciple."

Li Muzhan shook his head. "He is not of my lineage. Tell him not to waste his efforts; he should live contentedly as a wealthy man."

"Master, Zheng Xiao Si also possesses a heart full of chivalry," Jikong insisted.

Li Muzhan countered, "Having the heart is not enough. He has been wealthy since childhood and lacks true dedication; he will struggle to achieve anything. It would only be a waste of time. It’s better for him to be an ordinary person."

"Master..." Jikong was unwilling to concede.

Li Muzhan pondered. "Very well. Summon him here. I will transmit a set of Arhat Fist to him. If he can master it to the Grandmaster level, then he may enter my gate."

"Thank you, Master!" Jikong was overjoyed and rushed off to return shortly, bringing Zheng Xiao Si, who immediately bowed deeply.

Li Muzhan nodded, beckoning him closer. As Zheng Xiao Si approached, Li Muzhan pressed down with his left index finger. Zheng Xiao Si’s eyes immediately closed, as if he had fallen asleep.

Jikong knew his Master was transmitting power, so he stood guard outside the door, ensuring no one disturbed them.

About an hour later, Li Muzhan's voice called out, "Jikong, come in."

Jikong’s spirits lifted and he pushed the door open. Zheng Xiao Si was looking at him hazily, his expression vacant, as if he didn't recognize him.

Jikong knew this feeling; it was as if many years had passed, a sense of profound passage washing over his heart.

He smiled. "Zheng Xiao Si, wake up!"

Zheng Xiao Si hesitated. "Qi Er..., what is the time...?"

Jikong laughed. "Master transmitted the power to you, and it feels like a long time has passed, but it’s only been an hour. That was all a dream!"

"So that's how it is..." Zheng Xiao Si suddenly realized, his eyes clearing. He turned and bowed to the ground. "Thank you, Great Master."

Li Muzhan said, "If you can reach the Grandmaster level using this fist technique, then enter my school."

"Yes, I will cultivate diligently," Zheng Xiao Si nodded firmly. "I absolutely will not fail Master's expectations."

Li Muzhan smiled. "Don't push yourself too hard. Not everyone is suited for the martial way. Born into wealth, you never needed to endure such hardship."

Zheng Xiao Si declared, "Without formidable martial arts, I cannot protect my family or my wealth. I must master this skill!"

"Mmm, it is good that you understand this," Li Muzhan gave a slight nod. "Jikong, the two of you cultivating together will benefit each other. Go."

Jikong agreed and pulled Zheng Xiao Si away.

However, not long after leaving, he rushed back to the door. "Master."

Li Muzhan, who was observing his physical form, opened his eyes upon hearing this. "What is it?"

"Master, Madam Zhao has come," Jikong said from outside the door. "Madam Zhao has come to beg Master to save a life."

"Mmm—?" Li Muzhan frowned, vanished in a flash, and reappeared before Jikong. "What happened?"

He asked while walking out, Jikong following closely behind. "Madam Zhao has a daughter; the mother and daughter depend on each other. But this girl has been frail since childhood, sick all year round, needing medicine just to survive. She has lasted over a decade, but now it seems she won't make it."

"How old is she?" Li Muzhan asked.

"About fifteen or sixteen now," Jikong replied.

Li Muzhan quickly arrived before the main hall. On the bluestone ground, an old woman was kneeling, dressed in clean, neat grey cloth—she did not appear impoverished. Yet, she knelt there looking decrepit, her body swaying as if she might collapse at any moment.

Li Muzhan approached and offered a respectful salute. "Benefactor Zhao, there is no need for this. Let us go."

"Great Master..." Madam Zhao looked up, her gratitude immense. "Is the Master willing to treat my unfortunate girl?"

Li Muzhan saw her graying hair and deeply lined face, making her appear around sixty. He sighed inwardly and nodded with a smile. "I will do my utmost. Benefactor Zhao, please—!"

He extended a hand to support the old woman, instantly injecting a flow of vital inner energy to restore her life force. Madam Zhao felt warmth flood her body, and her frame suddenly felt lighter and refreshed, as if she had shed ten years.

Her confidence surged, and she clasped her hands in gratitude. "Thank you, Great Master."

Li Muzhan smiled, helping her walk out while inquiring about her daughter's condition. It turned out to be consumption; her body was weak, and this time she seemed unable to hold on any longer.

She had already despaired until someone recommended Li Muzhan, saying this Master Zhanran possessed vast divine power and could achieve the impossible, perhaps saving a life.

Madam Zhao clutched this hope like a drowning person grasping straw, so she arrived early, kneeling to beg for Li Muzhan's help.

Li Muzhan said little more. Supporting her with his inner force, his feet seemed to fly. They quickly descended the mountain and arrived at the small town, entering a household at the east end of the settlement.

Madam Zhao pushed the door and called out, "Jing'er, the Master is here!"

"Cough, cough, cough, cough..." A string of coughing sounds echoed from inside the house. Li Muzhan surveyed the small courtyard; it was neat and clean, possessing a certain refined elegance.

Madam Zhao hurried inside, lifting the curtain, and the coughing slowly subsided. Li Muzhan lifted the curtain and entered. The room was filled with bright, soft light. On the kang, a small, gaunt girl sat, her face pale as paper, looking at him curiously. Her eyes were bright, but her breath was faint, threatening to cease at any moment.

Li Muzhan nodded with a faint smile, approached the edge of the kang, took her wrist, and a fine thread of inner energy drilled inside, soon circling back.