Chaotic Times Chapter Sixteen: The Four Symbols Fist

At this moment in the courtyard, Yang Ruiyun and Meng Yanyu were locked in an intense duel. Meng Yanyu wielded a broadsword, constantly dodging Yang Ruiyun’s spear attacks that poured down like a torrential rain. As for Deng Zhanxuan, who was still injured, he sat quietly to the side, observing the match.

“Big Brother, you’re finally awake. You’ve been asleep for almost a whole day,” Deng Zhanxuan remarked upon seeing Li Qiutong.

Li Qiutong rubbed his head and sat down beside Deng Zhanxuan, sighing, “I think I’d better give up drinking. It really isn’t a good thing. By the way, how long have they been at it?”

“More than two hours now. Ah Yan’s strength is on par with Second Brother’s. It’s hard to get a clear winner, and unless one of them exhausts their martial energy, they’re not likely to stop anytime soon.”

“Is that so? I’ll give it a try later myself.” Li Qiutong’s excitement flared up again at the prospect, the hangover from last night’s drinking nearly gone.

“But Big Brother, you’re a Grandmaster. Wouldn’t that be bullying Ah Yan?”

Li Qiutong watched Meng Yanyu’s swordplay with a serious expression. “That’s not certain. My current strength is hard to judge; I need to find someone to test it against.”

Ever since breaking through to Grandmaster with Eight Trigram Fist, Li Qiutong had noticed a transformation in his martial energy. This had gradually helped him understand the words Wújí had said in his dream. Now, Li Qiutong was eager for a bout to test his new skills.

In the field, the two combatants remained locked in their stalemate, neither able to gain the upper hand. Meng Yanyu’s style came from the southern barbarians, a method lacking finesse but relying on overwhelming physical power to suppress his opponent. Thus, Yang Ruiyun’s swift spear thrusts were constantly knocked off course by sheer force, forcing him to slow his attacks to maintain form and rhythm.

As for Meng Yanyu, his reactions barely kept up with Yang Ruiyun’s speed, leaving him unable to seize an opportunity for a direct clash. All his strength was wasted, forcing him to fall back on passive defense.

They had been deadlocked for some time, each waiting to see whether Meng Yanyu’s strength would falter first or Yang Ruiyun’s speed would drop. Though the fight was fierce, Li Qiutong, watching from the sidelines, was growing impatient. If they were truly to decide a winner, neither would have the strength left to face him afterward. Realizing this, Li Qiutong made a swift decision. He brandished his battle staff and charged forward to break up the fight.

In an instant, violet lightning danced across the Yin-Yang Dragon Staff, and a lifelike thunder dragon followed in Li Qiutong’s wake. As he swung the staff, the lightning dragon shot between the two combatants, and a domineering surge of purple martial energy exploded with a thunderous crash, sending the unprepared pair flying several meters back.

“Hey, Big Brother, what are you doing?” Yang Ruiyun protested as he steadied himself, clearly unhappy that their match had been interrupted.

Meng Yanyu, however, was stunned by Li Qiutong’s display of power, thinking to himself, “So he’s a martial Grandmaster. Good thing we didn’t fight yesterday—ten of me couldn’t have matched either of these two.”

Li Qiutong realized his abrupt intervention was less than courteous and clasped his hands in apology. “Second Brother, this isn’t a life-or-death duel. There’s no need to fight until you’re both completely spent. If you keep going, I’ll end up having to carry you both back home.”

Both men understood his point. Their competitive spirits had prevented either from calling a halt, but Li Qiutong’s interruption offered them a graceful exit.

Yang Ruiyun, catching on, clasped his hands and smiled at Meng Yanyu. “Thanks, Ah Yan. I learned a lot from our fight today—next time, I’ll be the one to beat you.”

“The feeling’s mutual—I gained much as well.”

“All right, now it’s my turn. Ah Yan, do you need some rest?” Li Qiutong walked up to Meng Yanyu and asked.

Hearing this, Yang Ruiyun shook his head with a wry smile. “So this was your real intention, Big Brother.”

Li Qiutong could only offer an awkward chuckle.

“Qiu, I’m only a martial master. Go easy on me,” Meng Yanyu said with a grin. Though his opponent was strong, opportunities to spar with a Grandmaster were rare, and he trusted Li Qiutong not to intentionally overwhelm him. Thus, he readily agreed.

“Of course. But give it your all.” With that, the two prepared for their match. Since neither style relied heavily on weapons, they decided to fight barehanded.

Meng Yanyu cloaked himself in bronze-hued martial energy, then sprang forward, launching a punch at Li Qiutong’s face. Li Qiutong, however, did not gather energy outside his body. Instead, he simply raised his arms and used his forearms to block the heavy blow.

As expected, Li Qiutong was sent flying back. Even Meng Yanyu was surprised—he’d been prepared to dodge Li Qiutong’s attack, not to send him reeling with a punch. For a moment, he was so taken aback he forgot to press his advantage.

Li Qiutong, unscathed, simply shook out his arm. “Again,” he said, smiling.

“Qiu, aren’t you going to gather your martial energy?” Meng Yanyu asked.

“No need. Right now, I’m just a formal martial artist and can’t yet manifest energy outside my body,” Li Qiutong explained.

Meng Yanyu was puzzled, but his attacks didn’t slow. His next punch came immediately, but this time Li Qiutong didn’t defend—he countered with a straight punch of his own.

Again, Meng Yanyu had the upper hand and quickly followed up with a flurry of punches and kicks, forcing Li Qiutong to defend as best he could.

“Second Brother, is Big Brother about to lose?” Deng Zhanxuan wondered aloud.

Yang Ruiyun shook his head. “It’s not that simple. For one, Meng Yanyu’s offensive rhythm is a bit off. And as for Big Brother, I just don’t see him losing on purpose.”

Indeed, Yang Ruiyun sensed something unusual, and Meng Yanyu felt it even more keenly. While his attacks landed, they didn’t seem to have the effect he expected.

None of them realized that Li Qiutong was using a new technique learned after breaking through to Eight Trigram Grandmaster. On the day he achieved Grandmaster, he’d been too exhausted to notice the change, but as his strength returned, his martial energy underwent a dramatic transformation. The eight forms of martial energy from Eight Trigram Fist had fused into four new kinds, two by two. Coupled with Wújí’s explanation of the Infinite Fist, Li Qiutong now understood that the so-called Infinite Fist was, in fact, the ultimate form of this art.

Only after reaching Grandmaster with Eight Trigram Fist could one comprehend the Four Images Fist. Upon reaching Grandmaster with Four Images, one could then learn new techniques. The fusion from eight fists to one might well be the true essence of the Infinite Fist.

Through this sparring, Li Qiutong also clarified the differences among the various fist forms. Previously, when he fought Yang Ruiyun to a draw with Eight Trigram Fist, it was due to leveraging the different effects of each form; any single style alone couldn’t match the Yang Family Spear. Now, with the strength of the Four Images Fist, a single form could rival Yang Ruiyun’s spear art—a testament to the gulf between martial levels.

At this moment, Li Qiutong was using Azure Dragon Fist, one of the Four Images. Though his martial energy remained within, Azure Dragon Fist’s hallmark was its inexhaustible vitality. This technique caused Meng Yanyu to expend extra martial energy and stamina with every blow, while Li Qiutong borrowed that force to replenish his own energy. The disparity between their stamina grew ever wider, and just as Meng Yanyu realized something was wrong, it was already too late—Li Qiutong was poised to strike back.

A faint white martial energy shimmered on Li Qiutong’s fist—evidence of surplus energy overflowing. He unleashed the White Tiger Fist, an attack focused on destruction. Meng Yanyu, unable to dodge, braced himself for the blow.

In the next instant, just as Li Qiutong had been earlier, Meng Yanyu was sent flying by a single punch. Unlike Li Qiutong, who shrugged it off, Meng Yanyu’s arms hurt so badly he could barely lift them.

“I concede. As expected of you, Qiu—defeating me with just your internal martial energy,” Meng Yanyu admitted, chagrined.

“But you’re impressive too. I only managed to win after using three different forms.”

“Hey, Big Brother, what’s going on? When did you learn a new technique?” Yang Ruiyun and Deng Zhanxuan hurried over, puzzled.

Li Qiutong didn’t hide anything from his brothers, sharing all he knew about the Infinite Fist and his own theories, though he kept the matter of Wújí to himself.

“Big Brother, your martial art is truly extraordinary. If you master that final form, you might be able to challenge the very pinnacle of the martial world,” Yang Ruiyun mused thoughtfully.

“It’s not that simple. I still have a long way to go.”

“You three are monsters,” Meng Yanyu could only mutter helplessly from the side. His own strength was nothing to scoff at—he was a top-level martial master—but up against Li Qiutong and Yang Ruiyun, he didn’t stand a chance.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the four of them chatted about their experiences as they made their way back to the bamboo house to replenish their energy.

After a day of sparring, their bonds had grown even stronger. Now, gathered around a table, they ate and talked together.

“So, you’re heading to Zhou? That’s quite a distance—three days on foot. I doubt Ah Xuan’s body could take it. Better wait until he’s recovered, and I’ll guide you myself,” Meng Yanyu offered.

Li Qiutong considered it and nodded. “That works for us. We’re in no rush.”

“Big Brother, Second Brother, sorry to hold you back,” Deng Zhanxuan said apologetically.

Li Qiutong clapped his large hand on Deng Zhanxuan’s shoulder. “We’re brothers—no need to talk of holding anyone back. Don’t you remember our oath?”

Yang Ruiyun smiled, and Deng Zhanxuan grinned sheepishly. “Yes, Big Brother.”

Hearing the three brothers, Meng Yanyu gazed up at the night sky, thinking of his own elder brother—who had once played, laughed, and trained with him. Where was he now?

“Oh, that reminds me—an old friend of mine is coming by tomorrow to bring me something. She’s a healer and can properly tend to Ah Xuan’s wounds,” Meng Yanyu suddenly announced.