Chapter Thirty-Three: What Does It Mean to Not Understand the Difference Between Sets?

"If I go with you, can you do me the favor of letting the others go?" Qiao Feng proposed as his condition.

Zhang Chengyi laughed heartily and said, "I have no interest in anyone from your Beggar Sect; they are free to leave whenever they wish. My only targets are Monk Shenshan, Master Guanxin, Master Juexian, Tan Gong and Tan Po, as well as Master Xuannan and yourself."

*Are we all... masters of martial arts?*

Qiao Feng quickly deduced their commonality, but then felt something was off. While Tan Gong and Tan Po were skilled, it would be impolite to say they were far inferior to him, and even less comparable to Monk Shenshan or Master Xuannan. He was puzzled, but now was not the time to dwell on it. In the end, as people of the martial world, it always came down to fists.

"If it weren't for this business, I would truly enjoy sharing a drink with you, brother." He smiled; alcohol was his greatest joy in this life.

"That's simple. I'll be heading to the South of the Yangtze soon, and we can drink to our hearts' content then," Zhang Chengyi agreed cheerfully. He had to bring the others back to Leigu Mountain, and carrying them along was a burden, but Qiao Feng was different. Even if he were just treated like a Pokémon to be shown off to build his own reputation, it would be worth it.

Qiao Feng's smile became somewhat strained. He cupped his hands and said, "Forgive me." With that, he flashed forward, taking the initiative. Given the speed he had observed earlier, he feared that if he didn't strike first, he might never get the chance.

"Don't misunderstand." Zhang Chengyi held up a finger, smiling. "I only used about one percent of my strength just now." As he spoke, his other hand struck out forcefully.

*Thud!*

*So fast! And such immense internal energy...*

Before the thought could fully form, Qiao Feng felt the irresistible force of the airflow toss him back like a ragdoll. He flew into the main hall, and after the back of his head made intimate contact with a Buddha statue, he lost consciousness.

Zhang Chengyi’s attack was simple, lacking any fancy techniques. He had observed his opponent's position, opened his hand, gathered his internal energy, and struck. The compressed air hit with the force of an avalanche—fast and inescapable. He called this move "using a cannon to kill a mosquito." With his internal energy maxed out, even without any specific techniques or styles, he was untouchable. When he used his energy and got serious, while others were playing by the standard rules of *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*, he was playing by the rules of the finale of *Kung Fu Hustle*. It was like he had wandered onto the wrong set.

*Boom!* The gate and walls of the main hall were grazed, leaving a palm-print-shaped hole.

***

Master Xuannan, who had been observing from the side, put his palms together and couldn't help but chant, "Amitabha." Aside from Qiao Feng, he was the strongest present, and with his Shaolin background, his eye for talent was impeccable. Yet, such an incredible display of martial arts was something he had never seen or heard of. And his juniors in the temple had insisted this man was a layman who knew nothing of internal energy until recently? He must have met the Buddha himself.

"Giddy up!" Commander Wu, who had gone to fetch the carriage, pulled up outside the temple gate. Shi Qinglu had already gathered the other targets, shoving them into the carriage, while Xue Muhua treated the disciples who had been struck by the *North Divine Art*.

"Master Xuannan, please," Kang Guangling said courteously.

"I shall obey," Master Xuannan replied, wisely choosing not to resist and walking toward the carriage on his own.

Zhang Chengyi took a swig from the flask at his waist and said, "Little Master Xuqing, Master Huifang, please convey my regards to Abbot Xuanci: I will pay him a visit on the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival."

Huifang pressed his palms together, looking at the man before him—familiar yet strange—with complex eyes. He bowed his head and said, "This humble monk will certainly convey the message."

"Oh, and please let Shaolin announce to the world that Xiao Yuanshan and Murong Bo should wait for me at Shaolin." Zhang Chengyi wore a mischievous grin. "By then, I will bring Qiao Feng and Murong Fu to see them both."

"Understood." Huifang agreed, though he frowned, finding the request very strange.

Su Xinghe walked out of the main hall, dragging the unconscious Qiao Feng. Zhang Chengyi looked around. Shan Zheng, leaning on his cane, was surrounded by a dozen disciples, looking on with fear and resentment. The four elders stood with the disciples of the Dayi branch who had just emerged from the rear hall. Quan Guanqing and Kang Min, who had been in the center of the stage when the Hero's Assembly began, were long gone. Others who had been feigning death or unconscious peeked over.

*Clop, clop, clop.* The sound of horse hooves grew distant.

"Heh." Zhang Chengyi tapped his foot, drifting lightly onto the courtyard wall. He raised a palm toward a distant bell and struck.

*Gong!* The massive bell rose, a deep palm print embedded in its metal, as a resonant, heavy chime echoed through Jingfu Temple. He called out loudly, "This matter is concluded; until we meet again, everyone."

With that, he departed in style. The entanglements of the martial world were no concern of his. He had finished the "Hero's Assembly" quest, made a grand entrance, and enjoyed mowing down hundreds of experts—it was time to get to business. Su Xinghe and his six disciples quickly followed, dragging Qiao Feng along.

Jingfu Temple remained silent. Elder Wu sighed, "This martial world... I fear it is about to fall into chaos." The other three elders remained silent.

***

The martial artists lying on the ground feigning death, seeing the devil had departed, stood up one by one and silently checked on the others.

"Ugh..."

Qiao Feng’s eyelids flickered as he regained consciousness. Feeling the jolting motion, he opened his eyes to see Zhang Chengyi sitting by the carriage window, reading a book by the fading sunset. As Qiao Feng sat up, he felt a tightness in his chest.

"Cough, cough." He cleared his throat, circulated his internal energy through his body, and slowly exhaled. It was nothing serious; as he had guessed, this "Knight of Jinshan" had pulled his punches and harbored no intent to kill.

He felt something tossed his way and caught it—a flask of wine. His mouth watered instantly, and without hesitation, he pulled the stopper and gulped down half the contents. After wiping his lips, he asked, "Now can I know why you captured us?"

"I've invited you all to study how to push the path of martial arts further," Zhang Chengyi said, closing his book bluntly. Golden sunlight spilled into the carriage. After his wild outburst, he appeared remarkably quiet; having spent over a decade of his previous life studying, he still retained a scholarly air.

"Push it further?" Qiao Feng repeated, then smiled helplessly. "With your strength, why would you need our help?"

"It's hard to explain in a few words." Zhang Chengyi reached out and grabbed him. "Bear with me."

Before Qiao Feng could react, he felt his twenty-plus years of exquisite internal energy vanish in the blink of an eye. His expression changed drastically. *The Art of Dissolving Energy?!* But having lost his power, his limbs went weak and his vision blurred. With no room to resist, he could only watch helplessly as the man’s internal energy poured into his own body like a rushing river. *Transmitting energy?* Even though he had never received such a technique, he had heard of it, and he couldn't help but be stunned.

After a long while, Zhang Chengyi released him and praised, "Not bad. Your aptitude is among the best of those I have transmitted power to."

It was just over eight hundred points—nearly the same as Wu Yazi. It seemed that for one of the protagonists of the *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils* world, eight hundred was the true human limit. After all, his own internal organs could only hold about eight hundred and seventy points; the rest dissipated through his meridians and acupoints, much like Goku in *Dragon Ball* after being resurrected and using Super Saiyan 3. Only he could maintain the data constant; no one else could do it.

It was an interesting discovery.