33. Learning by Observing on the Spot

“Hiss…” The man with the goatee trembled, involuntarily retreating a step. He felt a powerful rebound from kicking the opponent’s right leg—so strong that his own leg went numb. His shoulder, struck by the other man, felt as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer; he could barely lift his arm.

Yet, the goateed man, well into his fifties and experienced in martial arts for decades, was no ordinary fighter. He had underestimated Chen Fengyun, not knowing about the Golden Bell Shield, and was caught off guard by Chen’s brute strength, suffering a minor setback because of it.

“What sort of martial art are you practicing, boy? It’s so peculiar.” The goateed man frowned, questioning him.

But his hands didn’t stop; he fought with agile movements, probing for chances to attack Chen Fengyun’s body, avoiding any head-on collision, suspecting the young man had trained in iron-body techniques.

Chen Fengyun paid him no heed, relentlessly charging forward, utterly indifferent to the goateed man’s attacks. His manner was that of a street brawler—brazen and unruly—as he pressed the offensive.

“Who is this kid? His skills seem profound, I can’t make sense of it.”

“Profound, my foot. He doesn’t really know martial arts, just relies on brute force. Look at his style—it’s like those hooligans fighting on the street.”

“Yes, it’s just like that. But why has Elder Yang not subdued him after all this time?”

The men around Han Dequan whispered among themselves. Some were martial artists—not masters of ancient arts, but knowledgeable enough. In their eyes, Chen Fengyun used no proper martial forms, only reckless aggression.

“One Yue, who is your colleague? He doesn’t seem to know any martial arts,” Zhao Jianguo asked Zeng Yiyue, frowning. Though Chen Fengyun was helping him, Zhao worried the young man might get hurt.

“Chen Fengyun is a qigong master, I think. He said qigong practitioners learn martial arts quickly, but I’m not sure if he knows any real moves. I just know his qigong is impressive,” Zeng Yiyue replied, blinking.

“But Chen doesn’t seem to know martial arts at all. He doesn’t use any forms,” Geng Chunming remarked nearby.

“Maybe he’s a hidden master, deliberately concealing his lineage by not showing any formal technique,” Xu Dalin said, puzzled.

If other cultivators saw Chen Fengyun fighting like this, they’d surely laugh him out of the room. Cultivators usually battle with flying swords and magical artifacts, not with their bare hands like this.

Yet Chen Fengyun had no intention of using flying swords or the Mysterious Yin Mirror. Relying solely on his spiritual sense, he could anticipate the enemy’s moves and remain undefeated.

He could activate the Golden Bell Shield at will, unafraid of any attack. The recoil always struck the attacker; after a few tries, they’d surely understand.

“Although I don’t know martial arts, I can learn. This goateed man seems highly accomplished in ancient martial arts—he’s the perfect study subject.”

No one knew what Chen Fengyun was plotting. While forcing the goateed man to keep attacking, he used his spiritual sense to memorize every move, replaying the techniques in his mind and analyzing the martial forms.

The goateed man grew frustrated, though he couldn’t voice it. His reputation was formidable; to lose to a youngster would be humiliating, and news of it would tarnish the prestige of the Four Lords of the Southern School.

So he kept up the duel, displaying his most prized Bagua palm techniques. He stepped in Bagua patterns, landing blows on Chen Fengyun, but every time he struck, he suffered a fierce rebound, unable to inflict any real harm.

Chen Fengyun noticed that, as the goateed man tired, faint waves of spiritual energy flickered across his body, after which he would attack with renewed vigor.

“This man must have tried cultivating Daoist arts, but lacking my shortcuts, he couldn’t become a true cultivator. Still, his body has traces of spiritual energy, which he uses to recover strength at critical moments.”

Having understood the goateed man’s situation, Chen Fengyun did nothing but continue his wild attacks, forcing him to display more of his martial arts.

To the spectators, the goateed man’s steps encircled Chen Fengyun like a shadow, creating illusions that dazzled their eyes, making it impossible to follow their movements.

No matter how fast the goateed man moved or how skillfully he attacked, whenever he managed to hit Chen Fengyun, the recoil left his limbs aching.

Chen Fengyun ignored him, recording the man’s steps and martial arts with his spiritual sense, analyzing and simulating them in his mind—even using ancestral teachings as a reference, searching for patterns in the ancient martial arts.

“This boy is truly odd. He seems to know nothing, yet his body is abnormally tough. I’ve trained for over thirty years and possess internal force, but striking him produces unbelievable recoil. What’s going on?”

The goateed man was no ordinary figure; legendary in both the ancient martial arts and tomb-raiding circles of China. Yet here he was, being thwarted by a young man who forced him into a stalemate—what a disgrace.

Among the crowd, Zhao Jianguo and Han Dequan watched calmly, waiting for the outcome. Zeng Yiyue was worried but also had blind faith in Chen Fengyun’s formidable qigong.

Others watched with excitement; such a spectacular duel was rare, especially with the goateed man’s movements so swift that he seemed to blur before their eyes. Everyone awaited the final result.

Bang!

At last, after five or six minutes, the two exchanged a direct punch. The violent impact forced both to step back several paces; the goateed man clenched his fist in secret, while Chen Fengyun smiled.

After those minutes of observation, Chen Fengyun had finally mastered the goateed man’s steps and ancient martial arts, successfully deducing them with his spiritual sense—he had learned the man’s skills.

“Boy, who are you? Which family are you from?” the goateed man asked, frowning, suspecting Chen Fengyun belonged to some powerful martial lineage, trained in iron-body techniques.

“You’ve been spinning around for so long—aren’t you dizzy?” Chen Fengyun asked curiously, nearly causing the goateed man to spit blood in exasperation.

“Hmph! Boy, I was holding back just now. If you know what’s good for you, step down yourself. Otherwise, if you get hurt, your elders will accuse me of bullying the young!” the goateed man snorted.