Chapter Sixty-Two: Fatty Xia, with a Mortal Body, Forces the Century-Old Shadow Fiend to Retreat by a Step

A single leaf drifts on the river’s current, curling and unfurling at the whim of the wind.

Grandfather Xiaoshan appeared suddenly behind Xia Yu. Although Tang Yi’s warning had been swift, Song Mo still found himself quietly worrying for Xia Yu.

“Well struck!” Xia Yu shouted, his steps nimble as he swung his fist backwards. His reaction was nothing short of quick, but he was clearly not in the same league as Grandfather Xiaoshan. After unleashing a flurry of punches, he failed even to brush the hem of the elder’s dark robe.

“Ha! Do you dare face me head-on?” Xia Yu roared in frustration, his fists slicing through empty air once more. Fury flared within him as he retreated several paces, fixing Grandfather Xiaoshan with a fiery glare.

“Mere mantis trying to stop a chariot, an egg striking stone,” Grandfather Xiaoshan sneered, his form solidifying as he stood before Xia Yu.

“Very well! Today I shall be the ant shaking the great tree, the termite gnawing through the stone bridge!” Xia Yu clenched his fists, his aura surging, his entire figure straightening. What had seemed a flabby, overweight frame now appeared forged and robust, like a small mountain.

“A body-forging technique? Interesting,” Grandfather Xiaoshan’s eyes lit up, and his estimation of Xia Yu rose visibly.

“What is a body-forging technique?” Song Mo whispered to Tang Yi.

Tang Yi’s gaze remained fixed on Grandfather Xiaoshan as he replied in a low tone, “Body-forging techniques are advanced martial arts, mastered only by those of great resolve. The path requires training the breath from childhood, tempering the body with special herbal baths. The martial forms themselves are grand and open, demanding broad-mindedness and an unorthodox spirit. They are the most difficult to cultivate, but if one succeeds, their flesh and bones become as steel—invincible.”

From Tang Yi’s explanation, Song Mo gleaned two main points:
First, body-forging techniques are extremely arduous to master.
Second, Xia Yu, bold and forthright, was no petty or narrow-minded man—a friend worth having.

As Tang Yi finished his explanation, Xia Yu was already on the move. With each step, the bones within his body grated together, ringing out with a metallic resonance. When he was five steps from Grandfather Xiaoshan, Xia Yu gathered his strength and threw a punch.

“Supreme Mystical Eight Extremities Fist—Shattering the Earth!” he roared, his fist crashing toward Grandfather Xiaoshan’s chest like a stone boulder.

“Petty tricks,” Grandfather Xiaoshan scoffed, flicking his wrist.

Shadows of countless exotic flowers and herbs from the garden surged forth, weaving together to form a multitude of protective hands before his chest. Softness countered strength, easily catching Xia Yu’s fierce blow.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Grandfather Xiaoshan cast a contemptuous glance at Xia Yu, whose fist was now trapped.

“Is it?” Xia Yu’s expression hardened, and he shouted, “Supreme Mystical Eight Extremities Fist—Collapsing the Mountain!”

It turned out the Supreme Mystical Eight Extremities Fist consisted of four interconnected forms—the first being Shattering the Earth. Should the initial punch strike its mark, the second form, Collapsing the Mountain, could be unleashed with undiminished force. The Collapsing the Mountain punch fused the power of the first strike, delivering a devastating blow far stronger than the initial attack.

Xia Yu’s punch came swift and unexpected. Grandfather Xiaoshan was caught off guard, and the protective shadows before his chest were shattered by the force. Yet the gap in their abilities was too vast. After breaking through the shadows, Xia Yu’s strength was spent.

With a cold expression, Grandfather Xiaoshan waved his sleeve, sending a massive shadow from the garden pavilion hurtling toward Xia Yu. Exhausted and his steps slowed, Xia Yu struggled to dodge, but his bulk made him an easy target—he was sent flying. This time, Grandfather Xiaoshan had clearly used a more forceful hand. Xia Yu’s immense body, no longer buoyed by luck, was hurled through the air like a kite with a severed string, smashing the stone tiles of the garden upon impact.

Song Mo heard Xia Yu’s muffled groan of pain, followed by a mouthful of blood.

“Fatty Xia, are you alright?” Song Mo called anxiously.

“I’m... fine,” Xia Yu’s voice wavered, the blow from Grandfather Xiaoshan clearly overwhelming him.

“I’ll fight you,” Song Mo said gravely. Since Xia Yu had fallen, he would step forward. Tang Yi was the strongest among them, but only if he and Xia Yu could exhaust Grandfather Xiaoshan and test his full strength would Tang Yi’s chances of victory increase.

Song Mo cast a discreet glance toward Zhao Yueshu and Shu Mingli. Though the two were mere spectators, they were family. Should they join forces, they could very well turn on him and his companions.

With this in mind, Song Mo wasted no time in striding forward and pulling from the ground Xia Yu’s plain saber. Forged from refined steel, it bore no ornamental patterns—only three parallel blood grooves carved into the blade. The iron-smelting techniques of the Great Zhou dynasty had reached a high level, far surpassing those of the historical era of warring feudal lords.

Song Mo was about to raise the blade when, to his surprise, Xia Yu struggled to his feet once more.

“I haven’t lost yet!” Xia Yu spat out a mouthful of blood, wiping his lips with his sleeve. He pressed his fists together before his chest, producing a deep, booming sound like a bronze bell.

“What?” A hint of astonishment flickered in Tang Yi’s eyes.

Clap, clap, clap. Grandfather Xiaoshan applauded with a wicked grin. “Interesting, very interesting. You’ve truly broken through.”

Standing tall, Xia Yu declared in a deep voice, “A Ninth Rank Mystic Martial Artist. I challenge you again!”

“Ninth Rank Mystic? Still just an ant,” Grandfather Xiaoshan replied with the same disdain.

Xia Yu drew a deep breath, channeling all his strength into his fists. “I have a punch that can anchor the seas like a bronze bell!”

His eyes shone with determination. With a mighty shout, he leapt more than eight feet into the air, his iron fists launching a barrage of blows. Countless fist-shadows compressed the air with a piercing hiss. These shadows merged, forming a bronze bell half a man high and five feet wide.

“Are body-forging techniques truly this powerful?” Even the well-traveled Tang Yi could not fully grasp the Supreme Mystical Eight Extremities Fist.

“Supreme Mystical Eight Extremities Fist—Anchoring the Sea!” Xia Yu bellowed, his fists descending upon the bell like twin dragons surging from the sea.

A deep clang rang out as the bell, carrying the force of ten thousand pounds, crashed down on Grandfather Xiaoshan.

For the first time, Grandfather Xiaoshan’s gaze grew serious. He formed a hand seal, and a black wall sprang up to block the bell.

“Break for me!” Xia Yu cursed explosively, driving his fist into the bell once more.

The bell finally toppled the black wall, but shattered itself in the process, dissolving into a violent gale. The storm lashed out at both Grandfather Xiaoshan and Xia Yu. With a mere flick of his sleeve, Grandfather Xiaoshan’s demonic aura fended off the wind, though it forced him to take a step back.

Xia Yu, drained of strength, was struck by the gale. He spat another mouthful of blood as he fell.

“Fatty Xia, are you alright?” Song Mo asked anxiously.

Struggling to his feet, Xia Yu looked at the grim-faced Grandfather Xiaoshan and laughed heartily, “Today, I—Fatty Xia—have forced a hundred-year shadow demon to retreat a step with nothing but a mortal’s body!”