Chapter 1663 — A Hidden Loss

Wei Zhao cursed his rotten luck. He had never gotten the details about the Earth rank out of that Crystal girl beforehand, and now he had very nearly paid a heavy price for it.

Watching those pair of eagle talons, Wei Zhao did not dare meet them head-on, and could only dart backward as fast as he could. Had his lightness skill been any less, Blue Hair would have had him. Even so, the wind of those talons swept across his face, and his cheek stung at once as though slashed by a carving knife.

"Hoo..." Wei Zhao touched his cheek, and his fingers came away streaked with blood — so he had been cut after all. Still, he counted himself lucky: if those talons had landed, he would have been badly hurt.

The fight had barely begun, and already Wei Zhao had taken a heavy loss, leaving him in a sorry state.

Martial techniques — he had none, and that was the root of his disadvantage. Back at the Profound rank, he had always relied on raw, overpowering strength, meeting his opponents head-on in a contest with no room for finesse: whoever's cultivation was higher simply won. But now things were utterly different. His enemy no longer traded brute force with him, but sought to win by technique.

Yet even now that Wei Zhao understood where he fell short, there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he began learning martial techniques this very moment, it would be too late.

"Frenzied Eagle Thunderclap Claw, second form — Divine Eagle Swings Its Tail!" Blue Hair gave Wei Zhao no chance to catch his breath. Just as Wei Zhao barely slipped past the first strike, the second came at him. Blue Hair's body whipped sharply in midair, and like a black bolt of lightning he hurtled at Wei Zhao again, borne on a gale of true qi.

Wei Zhao cursed inwardly. This was simply unfair — a lone cultivator and a martial artist from a family or sect were never treated the same. He was taking a terrible beating.

But complain as he might, Wei Zhao still had to face the man. He could hardly just concede, could he? That would be humiliating, and beyond that — what would become of Tang Yun if he surrendered? Was he supposed to let Young Master You take her back?

So no matter what, Wei Zhao could not give in. Things had come this far; there was nothing for it but to grit his teeth and fight on.

"Ha ha, boy, you only just broke through to Earth rank — you haven't had time to learn any martial techniques yet, have you?" Blue Hair laughed heartily, yet his talons never slowed, stabbing straight for the crown of Wei Zhao's head.

"Martial techniques... of course I've learned some..." Wei Zhao certainly could not let Blue Hair know he had none at all. If he did, Blue Hair would grow all the more reckless, and Wei Zhao would be reduced to a one-sided punching bag.

So he could only bluff for now. Looking up at Blue Hair above him, Wei Zhao clenched his jaw, circulated the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art, gathered every ounce of strength into his right fist, and lunged upward with all his might, ignoring those eagle talons altogether.

What he was thinking was this: let the man claw him — so long as the talons did not land on a vital spot, it would not matter. He could heal himself slowly afterward; first he would deal Blue Hair a devastating blow. If Blue Hair would not trade strength with him, then he would force the trade himself.

After a few exchanges like this, he could heal himself, and Blue Hair could not. If they went on trading mutual destruction, it was Blue Hair who would come out the loser in the end.

"Rising Dragon Fist!" Wei Zhao knew nothing about forms or martial techniques, and in that instant he could not think of a name. But to fool Blue Hair, he suddenly recalled playing Street Fighter IV at home with Gu Mengyao and Shen Yushu — one of the moves in it was called the Rising Dragon Fist — and his current posture, right fist driving up at Blue Hair in the air, looked quite a bit like it. So he simply slapped that name on it.

When Wei Zhao shouted the name "Rising Dragon Fist," Blue Hair visibly froze. He had never heard of any martial technique by that name, yet the move looked terribly familiar — and then it struck him: a while ago, when he had accompanied Young Master You to the arcade, one of the game characters had used exactly that move.

Were there really people in the real world who used such a move?

Blue Hair's Frenzied Eagle Thunderclap Hand was ferocious to begin with; the second form, Divine Eagle Swings Its Tail, in particular, drove straight for the crown of Wei Zhao's head. But that single "Rising Dragon Fist" made him hesitate, unsure how to respond, and in the end his downward talons missed Wei Zhao's head and caught his shoulder instead.

In an instant, five bloody holes opened in Wei Zhao's shoulder, blood gushing out at once. But Wei Zhao's fist, pressed tight against Blue Hair's body, smashed into Blue Hair's face, and the tremendous force sent Blue Hair flying along with it, then dropping heavily to the ground not far away, where he spat out a mouthful of blood with a "pff."

Yet though Blue Hair looked badly battered, his face swelling up as though it were serious, in truth no great harm had been done. The blood he spat came only from his mouth being struck, not from internal injury.

And the swelling in his face was nothing but an external wound. Against an opponent of equal rank, a single forceful punch from Wei Zhao, one that had not even landed on a vital spot, naturally could not do Blue Hair any real harm.

So although both of them looked injured, in truth it was Wei Zhao who had come off the worse without anyone noticing.

"Frenzied Eagle Thunderclap Claw — quite a formidable martial technique..." Wei Zhao said lightly, feigning indifference, while in truth he was stalling for time, circulating the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art to heal the wound on his shoulder.

That claw had been severe: Blue Hair had cracked the very bone of Wei Zhao's shoulder blade. So even if he did not fully heal the wound, he had to mend the cracked bone; otherwise the flexibility of his arm would suffer, and he would pay dearly for it.

"Rising Dragon Fist? You call that a martial technique?" Having truly tasted the "might" of Wei Zhao's Rising Dragon Fist, Blue Hair was scornful. He had thought it must be some formidable move, but it was nothing more than an ordinary punch, with nothing special about it at all — utterly plain.

It merely resembled the Rising Dragon Fist from the game; in truth it was an empty flourish, pleasing to the eye but useless in practice.

And recalling Wei Zhao's earlier reaction to the mention of martial techniques, Blue Hair understood roughly: the boy surely knew no martial techniques at all, but refused to admit defeat, and so had improvised a move from a video game, conjuring up a "Rising Dragon Fist" to frighten him.

Otherwise — had he not hesitated over that unknown name, "Rising Dragon Fist" — Blue Hair believed his talons would already have closed on the crown of Wei Zhao's head and killed him outright.

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