Chapter 47: Seeing Clearly

“I’m teaching you, aren’t I? Showing you what it truly means to stand at the summit.”
Li Miao glanced coolly at Zuo Lishan, and beckoned with his hand. “Come again, Master Zuo.”
“Tired already? The day’s still young.”

There’s a kind of spider that ambushes its prey, weaving a lid of silk and leaves at the entrance to its nest, then dragging victims inside when they pass.
Zuo Lishan’s body had long been overtaken by the parasite worms; the holes in his face that Gao Ling saw were the passageways for the insects. The patchwork of skin and flesh was their “lid.”

Now, his vital energy surged, rage boiling over, unable to maintain his disguise. Several strips of flesh fell from his face, exposing raw muscle and jawbone beneath. They landed with a wet slap, pus and blood oozing.
Zuo Lishan threw his head back and laughed wildly. “Hahaha—Excellent!”
“With such an opponent, only after defeating you can my swordsmanship reach its peak!”
“Your martial realm is indeed above mine, but, alas, your arrogance is your downfall!”

His gaze swept over the branch in Li Miao’s hand, thoughts whirling. The claws of his blackened right hand suddenly lengthened, locking the sword hilt tight in his palm.
He raised his sword, pointing it skyward.

Boom!
Dust billowed beneath his feet.
In a blink, he appeared before Li Miao!
The sword swept from upper right to lower left, slashing diagonally down, aiming straight for Li Miao’s shoulder!
This move was the “Lofty Ridge Across the Sky” from the Mount Tai Sword Technique—like the overwhelming might of Mount Tai, meant to shatter the opponent’s weapon and crush their skull.

Li Miao raised his hand to meet it, employing the same method as before. The branch, infused with his vital energy, struck the sword at its weakest point.

Clang—
Zuo Lishan’s force scattered, the sword lifted slightly.
He immediately swung down again—still “Lofty Ridge Across the Sky!”
Zuo Lishan’s right hand, reshaped, was no longer human; now he locked the hilt so tightly in his palm there was no gap, impossible to dislodge.
And, thanks to the modifications of the parasite worms, his flesh was tough—unlike ordinary experts, he didn’t need to adjust his stance or breathing after his force was broken.
This move pressed down with sheer power, sweeping across the body, not easily evaded.

The branch in Li Miao’s hand only matched Zuo Lishan’s sword because it was filled with his vital energy. But it was still just wood; after a few clashes, it would inevitably break.
Zuo Lishan intended to rely on his grotesquely transformed body to smash both branch and man in one stroke!

“Lofty Ridge Across the Sky!”
“Lofty Ridge Across the Sky!”
“Lofty Ridge Across the Sky!”

Strike after strike descended. Li Miao continued to dissolve the attacks, but the branch began to splinter, spraying chips into the air.
The sword drew closer and closer to Li Miao’s shoulder.
A vicious grin spread across Zuo Lishan’s face. He thought to himself, “If you wielded a fitting weapon, my body, not yet saturated with worms, would still have weaknesses. The outcome would remain uncertain.”
“You accuse me of arrogance, yet today you too will fall to your own pride!”
“Die!”

At last, the branch snapped, and the sword descended onto Li Miao’s shoulder!

Clang!—
Splurt.

Two sounds overlapped.
Zuo Lishan’s sword was suddenly knocked aside. He looked down at his chest.
Half a branch was lodged there.

Li Miao stepped back, shaking his left hand. “Fine sword, great strength—quite tough.”
In that instant, Li Miao’s left fist had struck directly at Zuo Lishan’s blade, scattering his posture, while his right hand drove the branch straight through Zuo Lishan’s heart.

Li Miao looked at him, smiled, and raised his left hand. “Iron Sand Palm, combined with Shaolin’s Mindful Grasp—you’ve never seen that, have you?”

Zuo Lishan tore the branch from his chest, blood flowing for only a moment before stopping, with the faint outline of worm limbs writhing at the wound.
“What martial arts have you learned?” he asked, expressionless.
A single technique encompasses force, vital energy, and sequence—all essential.
But Li Miao’s move: his vital energy was Iron Sand Palm, letting him clash fist against blade; his force and sequence were Shaolin’s Mindful Grasp, breaking Zuo Lishan’s fierce stance.
Ordinary people attempting this would have their internal energies at war, lucky to escape madness. Yet Li Miao wielded it seamlessly, his mastery no less than those who specialize in the arts.

And those five distinct moves from the Five Mountains Sword Technique… It utterly defied the fundamentals of martial arts!

Li Miao smiled. “Didn’t I say? You take the shortcut up the mountain, and when you find no one at the summit, you assume it belongs to you.”
“The last time we met, I said among the supreme masters, some are unworthy of their names, relying only on years of cultivation and overwhelming vital energy to intimidate others.”

“Now, you’re the same.”
“Come, let’s continue.”

He barely finished speaking before Li Miao closed the gap in an instant—fingers, claws, fists, palms, his hands traced shadowy arcs through the air, attacking Zuo Lishan.
Zuo Lishan raised his sword to defend, eyes locked on Li Miao, exchanging over a dozen moves in a flash, growing more alarmed with each bout.

“Taiji, Bajie, Iron Eagle Spear, Blood-Cleaving Blade, Iron Punishment Combat Manual, Four Symbols Palm…”
“Five Mountains, Shaolin, Wudang, Emei, Embroidered Guards, Blood Garment Tower, Canal Gang…”
“Turning fingers into swords, fists into spears, palms into blades…”

Li Miao’s every move was endlessly shifting, at will, force and energy inverted, sequences chaotic and unclear.
In just this brief exchange, Zuo Lishan glimpsed traces of dozens of sects’ martial arts. The moves transformed in an instant—force, energy, and sequence were elusive, like an antelope’s horn, leaving no mark.

Suddenly, Li Miao’s right hand formed a palm, striking toward Zuo Lishan’s face—by sequence, it was Emei’s “Four Symbols Palm.”
Zuo Lishan countered with a sword move, “Crane Returns to Clear Spring,” but his blade slashed empty air. Looking down, Li Miao’s right hand had curled into a claw, digging for his chest—the fundamental art of Wang Hai, “Shedding Leaves.”

Zuo Lishan tried to block, but the blade was struck by immense force, hammering it into his own body!

Thud!—

Zuo Lishan retreated with the momentum, spitting blood, backing a yard before barely steadying himself.
Raising his head again, Li Miao’s right hand remained poised, now clenched into a fist.
It was the “Advance, Block, Strike” from Wudang Taiji Fist, breaking through his defense by sheer force!
Within that single move, three supreme arts were woven together in rapid succession!

Li Miao drew back his fist, making no move to press his advantage, instead watching Zuo Lishan, who was still coughing blood, with leisurely composure. “Well, Master Zuo, did you see clearly?”
“If you still can’t see, I won’t bother teaching such a slow student.”

Zuo Lishan planted his sword in the ground, tapping his chest several times with both hands. Black mist coiled around his face.
He looked up again, his face drained of color, his blackened right hand stretching out, twisting into a grotesque angle.
He rasped, “So that’s it.”
“This is… above the summit…”