Chapter Sixty-Four: A Body Like Flowing Water, Fists of Steel, and Invisible Gale

Chapter Sixty-Four: A Body Like Flowing Water, Fists of Steel, and Invisible Gale Force

“Mannan, that’s enough. Mind your manners. Call him Brother Hong,” the burly man admonished as he watched Mannan slap Wu Hong’s shoulder with a familiarity that surprised everyone. Wu Hong remained utterly unmoved; even the chair beneath him didn’t make a sound. The burly man was inwardly shocked, but he still spoke up.

At the same time, a trace of doubt flickered in his heart. This Mannan was his father’s illegitimate son, only recently acknowledged as family. How did Wu Hong know Mannan’s former name?

“Hey! Quite impressive, aren’t you? Usually, when I smack cats or dogs, they’re done for, but you’re just fine,” Mannan exclaimed, staring at Wu Hong in astonishment, scrutinizing him from left to right after his palm landed harmlessly on Wu Hong’s shoulder, who even smiled in response.

Suddenly, Mannan shouted, “Ah! Brother, this guy is Wu Hong!” His voice boomed like thunder, echoing through the inn so that every wandering martial artist heard it clearly.

The burly man’s face darkened. “Mannan, don’t be rude. How could he possibly be Wu Hong? You’re mistaken—this is Hong Wu!”

Some of the martial artists’ expressions shifted at these words, but then relaxed. There was no way Wu Hong and Hong Wu were the same person.

Back in the Tianshu Microcosm, the two of them had fought a fierce battle over a secret manual, proving they were enemies. While they did bear some resemblance, they were undoubtedly two different people.

What none of the martial artists knew was that the man who looked more like Wu Hong than Wu Hong himself was a fake. The real Wu Hong, whose appearance had changed, was sitting before them now.

“Brother, you don’t know. Back when I was at the Huang estate, this Wu Hong was going by the name Hong Wu, working as a butcher. He even sparred with me. Later, when Hong Wu’s real identity was exposed, everyone knew, and he was taken away! I never heard what happened to him after that,” Mannan recounted slowly. Though he had been born with a mental deficiency, it seemed some renowned physician had managed to restore some of his wits. As he recalled the past, his brother’s face grew increasingly grim.

Yet many of the martial artists remained unconvinced by Mannan’s story.

After all, they had witnessed the battle between Wu Hong and the imposter in the Tianshu World with their own eyes.

No matter how earnest Mannan sounded, it was simply unbelievable.

Mannan’s brother, hearing this nonsense, glared furiously. “Mannan, if you keep talking nonsense, I’ll have to teach you a lesson!”

Mannan’s face flushed, and tears welled in his eyes. “Brother! I’m telling the truth! Why do you always hit me? My foster father always punished me by making me stand, my real father just sighed and shook his head, and you—you're always beating me! I don’t want to live anymore—wah!” After this litany of grievances, Mannan’s massive frame toppled onto the floor of the upstairs private room. He rolled about like a child, crying and making a terrible racket, a far cry from the menacing figure he’d been moments ago.

The martial artists were petrified. How could this man, built like a black tower, act like such a child—crying and shouting at a moment’s notice?

Mannan flailed his arms and legs, kicking over tables and chairs, plunging the private room into chaos.

His brother, clutching his head with one hand, could only shake it helplessly. “Brother Hong, don’t mind him—Mannan’s not right in the head.”

Yet Yang Yu, as he was called, kept Mannan’s mention of Wu Hong at heart, though he simply couldn’t reconcile the Wu Hong before him with the one he’d fought.

Wu Hong, meanwhile, broke into a cold sweat. Though he did intend to reveal his true identity to save Li Ruolan, now was certainly not the time.

“Heh, your brother’s innocence is rare indeed. By the way, I still don’t know your name, brother?” Wu Hong changed the subject calmly.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself—I'm not much for wandering the martial world, so I’ve forgotten its customs! My name is Yang Zhen, and this is my brother, Yang Yu.”

“A fine name—shaking the heavens and the universe itself!” Wu Hong laughed, finally relaxing. He’d made it through this ordeal.

“Haha! Meeting a hero like you today is my good fortune. I’m itching for a bout—shall we spar outside?” Yang Zhen looked at Wu Hong expectantly.

Wu Hong mused that the brothers were indeed alike. Mannan had always been quick to resort to violence—he remembered how their first exchange of words had brought Mannan’s challenge. Yang Zhen was even more direct.

“Very well, brother! We hit it off at first sight—it’s only right to spar. But I must warn you, my skills are meager; please go easy on me.”

“Fight, fight! This is great! Hong, since I can’t beat you, I’ll let my brother teach you a lesson!” Mannan, still sprawled on the floor, leaped up at the mention of a duel, shaking the second floor with his bulk.

The three strode outside, followed by the martial artists who abandoned their food to watch.

Fortunately, under Blackwood Cliff there was only this one Penglai Inn; the rest of the area was open ground. The two men made their way to a clearing.

“Who do you think will win? I bet on Hong Wu—he even defeated the Demon King Wu!”

“Not so sure. Those brothers are no slouches. Yang Zhen is a master at the peak of the acquired realm, but I can't tell Hong Wu’s level. It’ll be a fierce contest.”

The crowd buzzed with speculation.

“Brother, go get him—flatten that Hong Wu!” Mannan cheered for Yang Zhen.

Wu Hong dared not be careless; he circulated protective energy throughout his body. Though his cultivation was low, he no longer feared ordinary peak acquired experts, yet Yang Zhen’s aura was formidable—not to be underestimated.

As they unleashed their protective energies, a fierce wind howled, making it hard for the onlookers to breathe.

Some of the martial artists who hadn’t ventured into the Tianshu World nearly popped their eyes out in shock.

Neither man struck first. Among masters, victory or defeat could be decided in an instant. Both carefully sought the other’s weaknesses.

Formless but potent inner energy crackled between them, snapping and popping like lightning.

With a sudden whoosh, Yang Zhen’s figure vanished. The crowd saw only a blur before he reappeared before Wu Hong, striking at his face with a palm.

Wu Hong was startled by the speed—he hadn't expected such agility.

His head snapped back, the back of his skull pressing flat against his spine, without so much as a crack from his bones.

Even the most accomplished martial artists, no matter how advanced their bone refinement, could never be this flexible.

The onlookers gasped. While there were body-softening arts in the martial world, none were as exaggerated as this.

Yang Zhen, missing his mark, swung a savage kick to Wu Hong’s waist. Yet Wu Hong’s next move was even more astonishing. Instead of blocking or dodging as anyone else would, his thick waist bent like a noodle, forming a perfect C-shape, so that Yang Zhen’s kick sliced harmlessly through the air.

With two moves, Wu Hong hadn’t struck back once, merely standing his ground while evading Yang Zhen’s attacks.

“My god! Is Hong Wu even human? He moves like he doesn’t have a bone in his body!” Mannan exclaimed in amazement.

The martial world was equally astounded. Wu Hong’s movements grew stranger with every move, standing motionless as he dodged two attacks from a peak acquired master—truly remarkable.

Yang Zhen grew irritated. He had only recently emerged from seclusion, having once been soundly defeated by the fake Wu Hong. After more than a decade of cultivation, he’d reached the pinnacle of the acquired realm, with only the legendary innate realm beyond—a realm no one in the world had attained.

He had thought his strength unmatched, but upon returning to the world, he suffered defeat at once.

Now, failing to land even a blow after two attacks, he felt even more frustrated.

This match with Wu Hong was infuriating. His opponent hadn’t moved a step, only dodged his attacks, and he was powerless to change it.

Yang Zhen’s inner energy surged, creating a field dozens of meters across that forced the crowd far back.

In the center of their duel, violent winds howled, and boulders weighing thousands of pounds were crushed to powder by the raging energy.

Sometimes Wu Hong would evade a punch by flattening his chest, sometimes parry with arms as soft as whips, deflecting Yang Zhen’s most cunning attacks.

Eyes closed, Wu Hong never retaliated. His body moved beyond human limits, leaving the onlookers dumbfounded.

Wu Hong had entered a strange state. The energy within him seethed, as if on the verge of transformation—a moment of enlightenment.

To advance to the marrow-refining realm required insight, something Wu Hong had never quite grasped. Yet now, in this duel with Yang Zhen, he found himself stepping into that wondrous state.

Yang Zhen grew angrier with every blow. His opponent never moved his feet, only dodged, making him more and more stifled.

His fists were known for their power and ferocity, but if he kept attacking without landing a hit, his own energy would turn turbulent and leave him uncomfortable, if not injured.

What truly enraged him was that Wu Hong had even closed his eyes mid-fight. Fury boiled in Yang Zhen’s chest, and he roared, “Brother Hong, do you look down on me? How dare you mock me so?” His voice rang out, charged with inner strength.

His movements became as fierce as a tiger, and if one listened closely, one could hear the roar of a tiger echo in his energy’s wake.