49 Defeating Dalba Once Again

Huo Du had just cleansed himself of the Scarlet Serpent Palm’s poison and cast a venomous glare at Tang Xuan before retreating into his ranks. Raising his voice, he declared, “In the second match, my second senior brother, Dalba, will fight!”

Dalba was the gaunt-faced, thin-bodied Mongolian monk. Though his frame was slight, he wielded an enormous and hefty Vajra Demon-Subduing Pestle. The assembly of heroes, upon seeing his weapon, could not help but feel a chill in their hearts.

The Vajra Pestle was a weapon traditionally reserved for the Dharma Protectors of the Esoteric Sect. Both Tibetan and Mongolian monks often used it. But Dalba’s pestle was four feet long, with a head as thick as a rice bowl and a shaft that gleamed with the luster of gold, as if forged from a mixture of gold and steel. At a mere glance, one could tell it was staggeringly heavy—well over a hundred catties!

Dalba entered the center of the great hall, pressed his palms together in greeting to the gathered heroes, and, with a casual motion, tossed the pestle high into the air. When it crashed down, it landed with a thunderous “bang,” shattering two large blue-and-white tiles and driving itself more than a foot deep into the earth. This display instantly seized the initiative, leaving all present in no doubt as to the weight of the pestle. That such a lean monk could wield it so effortlessly spoke volumes of his extraordinary martial prowess and innate strength.

The heroes knew that Tang Xuan’s Dog-Beating Staff Technique had reached a level of near-divine mastery, allowing him to easily defeat Huo Du. Yet, faced with Dalba’s fearsome strength, a trace of worry crept into their hearts. Could the subtlety of the Dog-Beating Staff overcome this wild monk’s brute force?

“Please,” Tang Xuan said, holding his Violet Phosphorus Staff as he stepped forward to meet Dalba. This opponent was no Huo Du; his martial arts were far superior, his frame slight but his strength superhuman. Among the premier masters of the age, Dalba was counted among the very best. Even if his own master, the venerable Master Xuan Zhi, came forth employing Shaolin’s ultimate skills, he would be evenly matched at best.

Tang Xuan, though confident in his perfected Dog-Beating Staff, dared not be arrogant. His first strike was as swift and straight as a sword, thrusting directly at Dalba’s chest—the “Thrust” technique, one of the eight core formulas of the Dog-Beating Staff.

Dalba, well aware of his young opponent’s prodigious skill and supernatural staff technique, was already alert and prepared. Instantly, he raised his demon-subduing pestle to parry.

Staff and pestle clashed with a resounding clang, causing everyone’s ears to ring from the impact. Tang Xuan, having mastered the “Arhat Thousand-Catty Strength” to perfection, possessed the strength of a thousand catties. This internal art granted him formidable offensive power, sturdy defense, and remarkable speed, in that order.

Even so, with this probing strike, he immediately sensed that his own strength was no match for Dalba’s. Dalba was a boss of the fourth or fifth tier, his attributes higher, his internal force at least as strong, and he was born with supernatural might. In a contest of sheer power, Tang Xuan knew he would be defeated within a few rounds.

After the exchange, Tang Xuan retreated several steps, while Dalba stood unmoved, a clear measure of their disparity in raw force. Dalba advanced, pestle descending toward Tang Xuan’s head with a fierce gust of wind, making many in the hall clench their fists in anxiety.

Tang Xuan immediately shifted tactics, employing the “Flick” formula of the Dog-Beating Staff, his Violet Phosphorus Staff rising at an angle to divert the pestle’s force. The “Flick” technique specialized in using minimal force to redirect massive strength, skillfully neutralizing brute force—a perfect counter to Dalba.

Even so, Tang Xuan felt his tiger’s mouth tingle, a testament to Dalba’s immense power; even the “Flick” could not fully dissipate it.

Each had launched an attack, yet neither gained the upper hand.

Thus began a fierce battle: Dalba’s pestle, weighing over a hundred catties, moved lightly in his hands, as agile as any ordinary martial artist wielding a sword of a mere fifteen catties. His techniques, inherited from the Golden Wheel Monk, might not have matched the sheer profundity of the Dog-Beating Staff, but were nonetheless exquisite.

Tang Xuan responded with the full array of the Dog-Beating Staff’s eight formulas: Trip, Chop, Entwine, Thrust, Flick, Lead, Block, and Spin—displaying them all.

Staff and pestle clashed repeatedly; often, Tang Xuan would use subtle force to neutralize Dalba’s overwhelming strength or block his moves ahead of time. The resulting scattered force sent gales sweeping through the hall, forcing lesser martial artists to stagger back, unable to withstand the tempest.

Such a spectacle was rare indeed! This brutal contest was nothing like the graceful duel between Zhu Ziliu and Huo Du, nor like Tang Xuan’s effortless defeat of Huo Du. The myriad wonders of the Dog-Beating Staff entranced all who watched. Guo Jing and Huang Rong exchanged glances, both puzzled as to where this young man had learned such mastery of the technique.

Huang Rong, peerlessly intelligent, had spent years of hard training to reach her current level with the staff. When she was Tang Xuan’s age, her proficiency was far from this transcendent. Did this young man possess even greater talent than she had in her youth?

Guo Jing and Huang Rong, both supreme in martial arts and perception, felt a sense of relief in their exchanged glance. They had already discerned that this contest would end in Tang Xuan’s victory. Though the two combatants still appeared evenly matched, Tang Xuan’s use of the Dog-Beating Staff was clever and economical, expending little energy. Dalba, in contrast, relied on brute force with every swing of his pestle; each move drained him, and even with his prodigious strength, he could not endure for long.

Thus, the outcome was already decided.

Indeed, after two to three hundred exchanges, Dalba’s strength began to wane, his movements slowing noticeably, while Tang Xuan remained vigorous as ever. The heroes of the Song Dynasty’s side, seeing this, knew Dalba would not last much longer. The Golden Wheel Monk and Huo Du, watching in secret alarm, had never imagined Dalba would fight himself to exhaustion without subduing the youth. That the martial world of the Song Dynasty could produce such an outstanding youngster was astonishing.

After dozens more exchanges, Dalba, now thoroughly spent, had his demon-subduing pestle knocked flying by Tang Xuan’s deft maneuver. Yet Tang Xuan did not press his advantage to strike Dalba as he had Huo Du earlier.

Dalba pressed his palms together and said, “Thank you for your mercy.”

Tang Xuan nodded with a smile.

The Song heroes erupted in thunderous cheers, their cries shaking the rafters.