The Black Wind Three Fiends had long harbored resentment over the matter, and now, goaded by Zhao Rou's words, their anger flared like a sudden blaze. Zhu Xie's eyes narrowed, a glint of malice flashing within. He knew Wu Tong's martial skills were formidable, and that he himself might not prevail in a head-on clash. But the slender, fair-skinned young "man" before him—whose delicate features seemed almost too refined—made him suspect this was a woman in disguise. Schemes flickered through his mind, and he gave a cold laugh.
"Well, young master," he sneered, "with skin so fair and soft, you must be of the gentler sex. You've insulted us more than once today. Let's not say we bully the weak—why don't we settle this one-on-one?"
Wu Tong stepped forward at once, voice righteous and firm. "This began because of me. The duel should be with me!"
But Zhao Rou only smiled faintly, her clear voice ringing with a note of pride. "What? You think you can insult me just because I'm a woman? Very well—this bout is mine to take."
Zhu Xie's lip curled in a cold smirk, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't bully women. I'll let you have the first move."
Zhao Rou's brow arched, the corners of her mouth curving into a calm, cool smile. "That won't do. Men and women are born equal. You strike first."
Zhu Xie gave a snort, his voice low and grim. "Fine! But don't blame me for showing no mercy when beauty meets steel!"
The words had barely left his mouth when his body shot forward like a tiger pouncing on prey. A sudden gust of palm-wind swept forth, sharp as a blade. Both hands lashed out, aiming directly for Zhao Rou's shoulders, every ounce of force driven toward a vital point.
Yet Zhao Rou showed no trace of panic. As the palms descended, her hands swept in arcs as if to meet them head-on—but at the last instant, her body pivoted lightly, steps shifting like a darting swallow. With a swift whirl, she slid half a step to the side, letting his strike fall into emptiness.
Zhu Xie's reactions were quick; he changed stance at once, drawing his palm back into a counter. But Zhao Rou's movement was faster still. Her "Fist Within the Palm" shot forward, sealing off his opening in a flash. Alarm prickled through him, and he tried to retreat, but his footwork had faltered. She used deft, borrowing force to pull him slightly off balance, his guard splitting open for a heartbeat.
In that instant, Zhao Rou struck with "Palm Within the Fist." His reflex brought both palms up to block, yet she turned her wrists, flowing into another change—hooking, drawing, and pulling in one seamless chain. Palm followed palm in rapid succession, the speed blinding.
Thud! A muffled impact—his right arm was caught and bound by her technique. Zhao Rou's palm surged forward like lightning, slamming into his chest.
Zhu Xie had no time for another change. He could only force a single palm up to meet hers. Their inner forces collided with a booming shockwave.
Boom! Dust exploded beneath their feet as both staggered back several steps.
Regaining his stance, Zhu Xie's face darkened. "Not bad! Your inner force truly is formidable. So you did eat the Bee Propolis Pills—and still dare to meet me palm for palm without yielding ground!"
Zhao Rou's smile was light, her tone cool. "I told you—we're not fools. If we hadn't taken the pills, should we have just waited for you to snatch them?"
Rage surged in Zhu Xie's chest, nearly choking out his breath. It was these two—these two!—who had robbed him and his brothers of the pills, leaving their own strength stagnant while theirs grew. The shame burned hotter than fire.
"Return the pills!" he snarled.
"They're long gone into my stomach," Zhao Rou replied, a cold curl to her lips. "What will you do to get them back?"
Zhu Xie's fists clenched, face flushing red. "Then I'll beat you until you learn your place!"
He launched himself forward, a storm of fists and palms. The assault came in waves—blows fierce and unrelenting, the rhythm unbroken. Each strike sought to crush her defense. Zhao Rou, seeing the ferocity in his approach, dared not take him lightly. Her toes touched the ground in quick, nimble steps; she yielded and slid away, her stance steady, her face calm.
Zhu Xie's experience showed in every move—precise, merciless, swift. Yet Zhao Rou, though less seasoned, held the edge in agility and caution. She let him press, reading his rhythm, waiting for the moment. Then, in a flash, her eyes lit with decision.
Her palms unfurled into the technique "Truth Is Illusion"—at once, the air was filled with a storm of phantom strikes. Seven were real, three were feints—or was it the other way around? The changes came too fast to tell. The shifting images made every opening uncertain, every shadow a possible killing blow.
Zhu Xie's pupils contracted. The phantom palms dazzled the eye, yet the killing intent hidden within them was real. Just as he tried to steady himself, Zhao Rou's second change came—"Illusion Is Truth."
Seven feints, three real strikes, the deadly ones hidden within a storm of shadows. The real palms struck like lightning from behind the veil of false ones.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Three heavy impacts crashed into his chest in rapid succession. The force ripped through him like a wave; his eyes went wide, his breath caught in his throat. Blood surged upward and burst from his mouth in a scarlet spray.
Reeling, he stumbled back, swaying—then crumpled to the ground. His breathing was ragged, his gaze fixed on Zhao Rou with venom, yet he had no strength left to rise. Defeat was complete and final.
Zhao Rou lowered her hands, exhaled softly, and looked down at him with cool detachment. "The three of you still want to 'borrow' something?"
Silence fell, broken only by a breeze that stirred the crimson drops on the dirt.
Zeng Xie and Hou Xie's faces changed sharply. They leapt forward, palms lashing out to protect their fallen brother. But a blur of movement sliced between them—Wu Tong. In the blink of an eye, several moves clashed, inner force booming in the air before the three broke apart, dust swirling around them.
As it cleared, Wu Tong stood with folding fan in hand, shaking it lightly, his expression calm as if the fierce exchange were nothing at all. With a lazy flick, the fan snapped open. His voice was laced with mockery. "We agreed on one-on-one. What's this? Losing and then breaking the rules?"
Zeng Xie's face flushed with anger. "I refuse to accept this!"
Wu Tong's smile deepened, fan swaying idly. "Then two-on-one it is. I don't mind."
Hou Xie bent to help Zhu Xie, seeing his pallor and shallow breath. "Let's go. We can't win this."
Zeng Xie's teeth ground together, resentment boiling, but the truth was plain. He cast a venomous glare at Wu Tong and Zhao Rou. "Next time we meet, you'll regret it!"
Wu Tong chuckled. "I'll be honored to witness your unrivaled martial arts."
The Black Wind Three Fiends turned and left, supporting their fallen brother, their figures soon swallowed by the forest path.
Zhao Rou stepped up beside Wu Tong, frowning as she watched them go. "Next time, they'll likely bring reinforcements."
Wu Tong only shrugged, twirling his fan. "With Zhao the Heroine in such fine form today, they'll think twice before coming near."
Color touched her cheeks, and she gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. "Brother Tong, don't tease. Let's be on our way."
They exchanged a smile, swung into the saddle, and rode off down the forest road toward Sanqing Mountain, their figures vanishing into the distance like the wind.