Chapter Fifty-One: Xiao Li’s Talent (Part One)

“No, that’s not a Tailed Beast. It’s an apparition formed entirely from sheer aura. If anything, it’s akin to the Daytime Tiger…” As a master of taijutsu, Guy understood Feng Xue’s current condition better than anyone. That phantom wasn’t an energy construct, but a hallucination conjured purely from killing intent—much like in Gourmet Hunter, where unless one has achieved the level of a fully manifested Gourmet Demon, all that appears is a mere mirage, just as Sasuke once seemed to see a giant serpent when faced with Orochimaru’s murderous intent.

It was similar to how, after opening the Seventh Gate, Guy’s single strike would manifest as a blue tiger-shaped aura, and in the Eighth Gate state, even the act of running would trail a dragon of red energy. These manifestations weren’t deliberately conjured or tied to the technique itself—after all, the Eight Gates technique is already a life-or-death gamble, with no reason to waste effort making the energy look more impressive. Instead, it was the overwhelming spirit of someone staking everything in that moment, naturally taking on the forms of dragons and tigers in the eyes of onlookers.

“Daytime Tiger?!” Kakashi, Guy’s closest friend, widened his eyes and instinctively revealed his Sharingan, fixing his gaze on Feng Xue as he advanced step by step toward Lee.

By now, the soul particles swirling around Feng Xue’s hands had nearly become tangible, their rapid vibrations resonating with a sound like a mournful, sacred hymn. This was the very melody that seemed to accompany the arrival of an Apostle—not intentionally produced, but the high-frequency vibration that occurs when the AT Field’s density reaches a certain threshold. Vibration is, after all, sound. Feng Xue’s AT Field hadn’t yet reached even a rudimentary level; only by compressing all his soul particles to their utmost around his hands could he achieve the density that an ordinary Apostle would have across their entire body at normal output.

Though Feng Xue’s mastery of taijutsu was a last-minute endeavor, the curriculum at the Academy for Transcendent Travelers had been refined over countless years, each discipline revised hundreds if not thousands of times. Even just a few months of focused study allowed Feng Xue, in single-minded pursuit of one art, to reach a level of internal mastery that countless martial artists in his previous world could only dream of—though admittedly, his was a “pseudo” mastery at best. (It’s worth noting that, in real-world martial arts, there’s no inherent superiority between internal and hidden force, regardless of what novels like Dragon Snake Record might suggest. This is a superhuman martial world, so don’t mind the differences from reality—after all, no one actually shatters the void through martial arts in real life, right? Here, every art has been honed for millennia, fused with myriad body-tempering disciplines. The forms remain, but the subtleties have evolved.)

Feng Xue had made a clever choice, opting not for the oft-glorified, almost mythical, Traveler’s staple of Taiji Fist, but instead selecting Bajiquan as his focus. As the saying goes, “In literature, Taiji brings peace to the world; in martial arts, Baji secures the realm.” Another adage claims, “Taiji takes ten years to master, Xingyi can kill in a year”—a testament to Taiji’s reliance on insight and time, which made it unsuitable for Feng Xue’s impending graduation exam.

Ordinarily, even with accelerated training, Feng Xue shouldn’t have reached internal mastery so quickly. But his physical constitution was simply too robust! In orthodox Bajiquan, stance work is essential, mainly to build resistance to impact. Without it, one’s own bones would shatter with a single Iron Mountain Lean, even if the opponent is sent flying. Yet, thanks to his Gourmet Cells, Feng Xue had skipped this hurdle entirely; channeling hidden force to the head was child’s play (especially with the Academy’s medical pods guarding his soul—he could regenerate even if his skull was blown apart).

Now, as Feng Xue stepped before Lee, he stomped his left foot, and his aura surged to a new peak. Power flowed from his foot through his waist, transmitted by subtle vectors, gathering into his right fist. This was one of Bajiquan’s eight major moves—the Earth-Piercing Cannon!

But at that moment, Lee, who had opened the Initial Gate, was in a completely different state. As a taijutsu specialist of the Leaf, Konoha-style didn’t dwell on intricate force transmission or secret methods. It championed simplicity and practicality. Sensing that he couldn’t match Feng Xue’s power head-on, this instinct flashed through Lee’s mind, only to be instantly suppressed. In a hair’s breadth, he dropped his stance, bracing with both hands on the ground. Dodging Feng Xue’s full-force strike, he swung a kick toward Feng Xue’s chin—this was the Leaf Rising Wind!

Yet, even with all his might, Lee’s kick didn’t have the expected effect. Feng Xue’s left hand, guarding his jaw, was shielded by a tiny, iridescent, interlocking polygon that deftly intercepted the attack.

It wasn’t that Feng Xue was showing off; rather, his soul particle reserves were so scant that even with all his strength, his AT Field barrier was no larger than a pair of palms. Using his hands to block was a matter of necessity, not bravado.

Missing his mark, Lee pushed off with both hands and leapt backward. The aftereffects of the Eight Gates were already intense, and the fierce recoil from the AT Field made his right leg nearly numb.

How could Feng Xue let him retreat so easily? He lunged forward, hands pressing down in succession. Though the movements seemed as simple as a windmill, each downward chop whipped up a gale. Missing twice, Feng Xue’s aura peaked; he stomped hard, and with that surge of momentum and power, launched a fierce strike!

Stomping was the essence of Bajiquan—rooting oneself, bolstering momentum, and amplifying force. This unremarkable downward blow made Lee feel as if a mountain was crashing down upon him.

Don’t underestimate this seemingly plain, inelegant move. It embodied the profound essence of Bajiquan, and the three downward chops comprised one of its eight killing techniques—Tiger Ascends the Mountain!

At that hair-raising instant, Lee seemed divinely inspired. In a flash of insight, he punched the ground. Amid flying debris and a burst of wind, he used the opening created by his fist to narrowly evade Feng Xue’s momentum-laden strike.

With a few agile flips, Lee withdrew from Feng Xue’s range. Feng Xue did not pursue immediately; that sudden burst had strained even his Gourmet Cell–reinforced muscles and bones, not to mention his still-healing ribs.

As they both caught their breath, it was Lee whose aura suddenly exploded with wild intensity!