Chapter Thirty: You Don't Even Have the Strength to Throw a Punch, Yet You Claim to Be a Martial Arts Master?

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Jingfu Temple, Main Hall, on the roof.

"A good show is about to begin."

Seeing the key figures arrive, Zhang Chengyi felt a sudden spark of interest. Listening to Quan Guanqing’s silver-tongued rhetoric earlier, constantly inciting the small-fry who had gathered to watch the excitement, had honestly been quite dull.

Since they had arrived early, and he had suspected there might be a spectacle similar to the events at Apricot Grove, he hadn't revealed himself immediately but had instead chosen to wait atop the main hall.

As expected, the star-studded lineup of the Beggar Sect’s four elders made their entrance. First came Xu Chongxiao, spinning his tale, followed by Kang Min, who bared her face to stir up sympathy, and finally, Quan Guanqing, who rallied the majority.

Quite well orchestrated.

In the original story, Xu Chongxiao’s group arrived one after another, giving Qiao Feng the opportunity to seize Quan Guanqing and use a mix of soft and hard tactics to persuade the four elders, which is how he managed to secure half the support later on.

But now, the prerequisites for the crusade against Qiao Feng had all been fulfilled. Waiting only for the man himself to be caught, even if he possessed a silver tongue, he would likely be unable to persuade the four elders to defect again.

With the Shaolin Temple, Qingliang Temple, and various other famous monasteries present, and a massive crowd of martial arts heroes serving as witnesses to pin down his Khitan lineage, once this filth was splashed upon him, it would be impossible for him to resign and leave as peacefully as he did in the Apricot Grove.

However, Xu Chongxiao seemed to have forgotten one very important thing...

Zhang Chengyi watched quietly as Zhiguang, Zhao Qiansun, Shan Zheng, and Kang Min took turns speaking, provoking the composed and calm Qiao Feng until he loudly denied the accusations again and again.

After all, this was a truth that completely overturned Qiao Feng’s worldview. It was only natural that the person involved could not, given his era and social climate, easily accept that there was no difference between a Khitan and a Han.

Especially when he received the handwritten letter from his late mentor, Wang Jiantong, which clearly stated that he could be killed, he remained silent for a long time. Then, he reached back, drew his Dog-Beating Staff from its long bag, and thrust it into the ground. He immediately resigned from his position as Sect Leader, declaring he would find the true murderer of Ma Dayuan. He openly admitted to harboring and seeing Zhang Chengyi privately, before preparing to depart.

"Disciples, obey! Form the Dog-Beating Formation!"

Seeing him about to leave, at Elder Chen’s command, dozens of Beggar Sect disciples brandished their weapons and tightly surrounded him.

"Hahahaha!"

Zhang Chengyi sat on the edge of the roof and burst into laughter.

"Who goes there!"

"On the roof!"

"The Khitan dog, Zhang Chengyi!" Xu Chongxiao spat, immediately slapping a label on him before adding, "What schemes are you plotting now, you villain? Did you come to throw yourself into the net for your accomplice, Qiao Feng?"

"Incongruous, a monkey in a cap! That dog surnamed Zhang—"

The discussions and insults from the crowd rose sharply.

"Slap your own mouths," Zhang Chengyi said with a smile. His voice did not sound particularly loud, yet it seemed to echo around everyone present.

What profound internal energy.

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Master Shenshan, whose eyes had been half-closed, suddenly opened them wide, his expression turning grave.

"Smack! Smack! Smack!"

The very individuals whose mouths had been filthy a moment before were sent flying the instant the words left his lips. Teeth, spit, and blood tumbled through the air as they crashed into the arena, falling to the ground unconscious.

Su Xinghe and the Eight Friends of Hangu, who had been disguised among the martial arts travelers, tore off their disguises, parted the crowd, and entered the center of the field.

"Long time no see, little Master Xuqing, and Master Huifang." Zhang Chengyi drifted down to the ground, smiling as he raised a hand to greet his acquaintances.

The two monks he had encountered before were indeed here, accompanying the head of the Shaolin Temple’s Bodhidharma Hall. The intentions of the Shaolin Temple needed no further explanation.

Upon seeing him land, Xu Chongxiao’s expression shifted. He braced himself to avoid retreating, while Shan Zheng, who had been genuinely struck, retreated two steps with a face full of hatred, his eyes spewing fire.

If he was already crippled, continuing to charge forward would be nothing but suicide, wouldn't it?

The four elders of the Beggar Sect immediately entered the formation, expanding the perimeter to include Su Xinghe, the Eight Friends of Hangu, and Zhang Chengyi in the encirclement.

"Today, you won't escape even if you grow wings!" Xu Chongxiao said with a cold face.

"Is there no challenge to be had?" Zhang Chengyi swept his gaze over the Dog-Beating Formation and the "heroes" outside, who were eyeing them like tigers. The smile on his face grew even broader. "Then you win, Old Xu."

"Brother, did you come here for me?" Qiao Feng’s expression changed as he asked.

Zhang Chengyi replied, "You could say that."

Qiao Feng took a deep breath and asked, "Brother, are you a Khitan?"

"I am Chinese," Zhang Chengyi gave an answer that left everyone baffled.

"Does Qiao have any prior connection with you?" Qiao Feng asked again.

Zhang Chengyi continued, "None whatsoever."

"Then why..." Qiao Feng was deeply puzzled. What the other party had said about Xu Chongxiao plotting against him had come true, and now, the man was risking his life to save him.

At this moment, Elder Chen chanted, "Brothers of the South, come beg for food..." The Dog-Beating Formation moved in rhythm with the chant.

Qiao Feng knew this was not the time for idle talk, so he said, "Brother, please follow me." He was too familiar with the Dog-Beating Formation, and the disciples involved were ones he often drank and ate with; he was ten-tenths certain they could break through.

"Do you think I came to save you?" Zhang Chengyi asked in return.

Qiao Feng turned his head to look at him, somewhat stunned.

Zhang Chengyi unhooked the wine gourd from his waist. Watching the Dog-Beating Formation closing in like a chain, he took a sip, poured some into his palm, and flicked his wrist.

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"Clink! Clink! Clink!"

The wine, solidified into shards of ice and infused with his internal energy, shot out. It easily pierced through weapons and garments. Anyone struck by the ice shards fell to the ground immediately, cries of pain echoing endlessly.

A massive gap appeared in this so-called Dog-Beating Formation.

Falling to the ground was only the beginning. Some lay there shivering violently from the cold, while others had skin scorched red, frantically tearing at their clothes.

"What evil sorcery is this!"

The Beggar Sect disciples and the surrounding crowd were in an uproar.

"Northern Profound Internal Energy, impressive, isn't it?" Zhang Chengyi smiled as he answered a question someone had shouted in panic. Then, with composure, he looked at Xu Chongxiao and said, "Old Xu, oh Old Xu, while you were busy plotting your schemes, you seem to have forgotten one very important thing."

"In this world, in the world of martial arts, it is always the one with the biggest fist who has the final say."

"Even without me, did you really think you could hold Qiao Feng?"

If Juluxian Manor couldn't stop Qiao Feng even when he was burdened with A'Zhu, could a Hero’s Assembly manage it?

Don't make me laugh.

"Fist." Zhang Chengyi’s voice was infinitely elongated in that second, and then, a familiar, smiling voice rang in Xu Chongxiao’s ear.

"Is power!"

"The thief dares!"

"How bold!"

Nearby, Tan Gong, Tan Po, Zhao Qiansun, Master Shenshan, and the two invited high monks all attacked at once.

Zhang Chengyi also raised his hand, channeling his earth-shattering internal energy to its limit. In that briefest of moments, he returned the favor using the exact same method of attack.

"Bang!"

After the sound of the strikes merged into one, the multiple afterimages of his hand still lingered on everyone’s retinas. All those who had attacked were sent flying simultaneously—some smashing into a group of people, some crashing through the doors of the main hall, and some embedding themselves directly into the walls.

Zhang Chengyi remained in the position of having one hand resting on Xu Chongxiao’s shoulder, the same heartless smile still on his face. His voice was unhurried, dripping with provocation:

"If you don't even have the strength to hit someone, how can you call yourselves martial arts masters?"