A long, piercing whistle split the air. Wind roared; the robes of both fighters billowed wildly. Liu Yun's footwork flowed with effortless grace, her palms rising and falling like drifting clouds. Chen Jinfeng, cold-eyed and resolute, fought with a composure worthy of a sect master. Though a woman, her moves were sharp, decisive, and refined—without true mastery, how could she have led an entire cult? At this moment her form flickered like a wandering spirit, yet light as a bird ready to take flight.
With a thunderous shout, the two crashed together in midair, four palms colliding as one!In that instant, it felt as if a bolt of heavenly thunder exploded overhead—earth shook, wind howled, clouds churned. Both women were blasted apart, tumbling three zhang backward before landing. Their figures swayed, chests heaving. Chen Jinfeng pressed her palms together; her garments bulged outward as inner energy surged, and her hands gradually turned crimson. Seeing this, Liu Yun likewise brought her palms together, channeling the Boundless Art of the Nine-Mystic Sutra.
They circled, stepping in intricate patterns. The footwork Liu Yun displayed—known as Da Yu's Seven-Star Steps—moved in accord with her breath, palms opening and closing as qi flowed through her meridians. Chen Jinfeng gave a sudden roar and launched forward, her palms sweeping with thunderous speed. One chopping strike descended; Liu Yun met it head-on, only to feel that Chen Jinfeng's palm force had grown even fiercer. She was shaken back a step. Instantly she shifted into the technique "The Square Has No Corners", pivoting left and right, borrowing force upon turning footwork to dissolve the impact.
At that very moment, Liu Yun tapped her toes and shot backward several zhang, unleashing "Return to the Primordial". Her twin palms rose with cutting wind; in a flash, a fierce sequence of palm strikes poured forth, relentless and unbroken. Chen Jinfeng uttered not a word—she inhaled deeply, suddenly thrusting her palms forward in rapid succession.
Wind howled. Liu Yun spun lightly aside, her right palm carving down like a blade toward Chen Jinfeng's left chest. Chen countered with a block, her five fingers spreading like talons, aiming straight for the vital meridians of Liu Yun's neck—a move so vicious that even onlookers felt a chill seize their hearts.
Chen Jinfeng burst into wild laughter, her arms whipping through the air like wings, fingers and palms stabbing toward every vital point on Liu Yun's body. Her speed was astounding—almost beyond mortal sight. Yet Liu Yun's Boundless Palm surged like a raging tempest, strikes falling like a storm, dazzling all eyes.
Around them, every spectator held their breath, frozen in tense silence, afraid even to blink.
The two traded lethal moves in rapid succession, neither gaining the upper hand. Chen Jinfeng missed a palm but did not falter; she lunged like lightning, sending ten consecutive palms flying forward! Amid the violent gusts, Liu Yun twisted and darted, slipping through danger by a hair's breadth, and likewise unleashed ten palms in return. At this height of battle, their techniques reached utter extremity—speed, ferocity, and mastery blended into a single blur.
Liu Yun felt her inner energy rising and circulating. She again invoked the Nine-Mystic Sutra's Boundless Art, choosing a frontal exchange. Chen Jinfeng gathered her strength and executed the inner power of the Nine-Heavens Heavenly-Gang Palm, sending three crushing palms forward in succession.
Liu Yun did not retreat.
Three palms met three palms—BANG! BANG! BANG!
A sudden scream tore through the air. Chen Jinfeng staggered, blood seeping from the corner of her lips. Liu Yun said coldly:
"Your evil is beyond forgiveness—death is too light a price."
Terror flashed across Chen Jinfeng's face. Liu Yun's figure shot forward like lightning; her toe touched the ground and she sprang ahead, a fierce shout erupting from her throat. Her palm flipped, striking downward with devastating force.
Chen Jinfeng let out a muffled groan as she was blasted ten zhang away, crashing lifeless to the ground.
At that moment, every follower of the Western Sect turned deathly pale. Their leader was dead—fear clenched their hearts. Liu Yun's voice thundered:
"Who else? Whoever wishes to die—step forth!"
Ling Xian'er added sharply, "Any who wish to abandon the darkness and return to the light—stand on my left. This is your final chance. Delay, and you will have none."
Compared with persuasion, Liu Yun's palm strike that felled the Western Holy Mother carried far greater weight. The Western Sect's followers dared not utter a sound. As the saying went, "A storm is coming, and clouds gather heavily." They now understood their fate well enough. One by one, they moved toward Ling Xian'er's left side—including all who had accompanied the Western Holy Mother here.
Just then, the Holy Mother's four personal attendants—Peach Blossom, Plum Blossom, Peony, and Orchid—fell to their knees, tears streaming.
Peony sobbed, "Honored heroines… now that the Holy Mother has passed, we four cannot bear for her body to lie exposed in the wild. We beg you—allow us to bring her remains back to the main altar for burial."
Liu Yun glanced at Ling Xian'er. Both women hesitated, then looked toward Wu Tong.Wu Tong let out a quiet sigh. These followers were not truly wicked; there was no need for needless slaughter. He spoke:
"For the loyalty you bear your mistress, I will grant this request. Take her body home. And… since you brought musicians with you, have them play a final tune and send your Holy Mother on her way."
This was already more mercy than anyone could expect.
The four attendants kowtowed deeply."Thank you, Hall Master of the Righteous Brotherhood, for sparing our lives. Your grace will never be forgotten."
Liu Yun said sternly, "See that you forsake evil and do no more harm."
The four women answered in unison, "We shall obey."
Soon, they lifted the Holy Mother's body onto a carriage. The suona horn let out its mournful cry; the funeral procession began to move, fading slowly into the distance as the attendants wept bitterly.
Truly:
"A thousand-year pipa, a ten-thousand-year zither;one erhu plays through a lifetime—but once the suona sounds, the tale ends."
And:
"At first you do not know what the suona means;listen again—and you are already the one inside the coffin."