Internal martial arts have never been the kind of boxing you can perform or demonstrate. There are no fancy stances or routines—the real power only shows up in actual combat.
The women fell silent again, glancing at each other, unsure what to do. Night Lily got a bit fired up and nodded, saying, “Alright, let me give it a try!” She walked slowly toward The Fool, not using any internal energy, but planning to teach this fool a lesson. She gathered her strength and slapped out with her palm. It looked straightforward, but actually contained over a dozen subtle variations. With her experience and skill, even top martial artists would have to take her seriously.
But The Fool just casually raised his hand and tapped Night Lily’s wrist.
Night Lily had plenty of backup moves—she could have twisted her wrist and retreated, or countered with a hold. But after that block, she stepped back two paces, staring at The Fool in shock and confusion. Suddenly, it felt like all her follow-up tricks were completely shut down, totally unusable.
“What the...” Night Lily was genuinely shocked now, but she gritted her teeth and threw everything she had into her next attack.
But The Fool didn’t even look at her—he didn’t seem to notice her at all. He was spaced out, like he was lost in some memory.
No one knew that when The Fool blocked Night Lily’s first strike, a fragment of memory suddenly bubbled up in his mind, dragging him back to a scene from long ago. Lately, he’d been falling into these sudden flashbacks—a few blurry, half-forgotten things would pop up when something triggered them.
This was a sign he was getting close to the seventh level of the Insight Technique—Dreamsea Memory Recovery.
In this memory, he saw himself standing by a tournament ring, watching a bunch of martial artists sparring. It was a competition called the World’s Number One Martial Arts Tournament, and it looked like it had just started.
He saw himself grab a middle-aged man in the crowd, shouting anxiously, “Uncle Tang, I finally found you! You just dumped me here and left? That’s so irresponsible!”
The middle-aged man shrugged. "You just watch, what am I supposed to do?"
"I mean, c'mon, you're supposed to be some legendary kung fu teacher now! Shouldn't you be all serious at a tournament like this—explaining, commentating, giving your expert opinions, maybe flexing a little?" He pointed at the two fighters on stage. "Like, 'That punch is deep and mysterious, that punch is just embarrassing,' stuff like that."
The middle-aged man looked up at the sky, sighed helplessly, and turned to leave.
He rushed over and grabbed him tightly, wailing in a melodramatic tone—think Shakespeare meets slapstick: "Don't go, Uncle! Just say a few words, please! I'm totally lost here, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be watching! I only know a bit of watered-down Bagua Palm, and I don't get any other styles. Which guy should I watch on stage? Which move should I learn?"
The middle-aged man was completely exasperated, but finally nodded. "Alright, I'll say something: You can watch their boxing, you can learn their moves, but honestly, that's not the best choice in my opinion. There's something else you should pay attention to."
The young man raised an eyebrow, looking like he'd just had an epiphany. "Oh, you mean I should watch—I should watch—" He dragged out the word, then finally gave up and shook his head. "Forget it, I just don't get it. Could you spell it out for me? You know I'm just a teacher of Western studies, I really don't know much about this kung fu stuff."
"Alright, let me make it simple. When martial artists fight, moves and routines matter—a move gives you options. When you're testing skills hand-to-hand, things change in a split second and victory can hang by a thread. There's no time to think, you just react. If you memorize a routine and practice it until it's second nature, so you can use it efficiently and accurately, you're basically a competent martial artist."
"Oh." He nodded, then frowned. "But that's only if you don't have time to think. What if you do? Is having moves better, or having no moves?"
The middle-aged man nodded. "If your intent leads your body, that's a whole different level—look over there."
He followed the direction of the pointing finger and saw a student from Eagle Claw School facing off against a Muay Thai fighter. "See, both Eagle Claw and Muay Thai have elbow and knee strikes. But are the Eagle Claw elbow and the Muay Thai elbow the same?"
The young man tilted his head and studied for a moment, then decisively shook his head. "No clue, but it looks awesome. Can't explain it, but it's definitely different."
"That difference is the boxing path. If I want to teach you internal martial arts, it's about letting your intent lead your body. What you should be watching isn’t just moves, but the whole continuous flow of a martial artist’s style. Moves matter, but they’re not everything—basic techniques are the same: you need them, but they’re not magic. If you’ve seen a hundred styles, and use one as your foundation, absorbing the best from all, blending them into your own—then at that point, does it matter if you have moves or not? You’re not fighting with anyone else's style, you’re fighting with your own."
The middle-aged man finally patted the young guy’s shoulder. "Once you find your own boxing style, then you can spar with me. Got it, 'Teacher Yang' from Western Studies?"
The memory cut off abruptly. In the middle of the bout, The Fool shook his head and snapped back to reality. "Teacher Yang?" he muttered, and a few more memory fragments flashed through his mind—the deepest memories tied to the name 'Teacher Yang.' In the end, he frowned and wondered, "Teacher Yang should be my dad—so who am I?"
A moment in his mind was just an instant in reality. The Fool zoned out, remembered, and snapped back—all in the time it took to exchange two or three moves. In those moves, Night Lily was already having a rough time. Suddenly, she understood The Fool’s words—her palm techniques really did feel pointless and silly against him. No matter how many counter-moves she prepared, he could always find her weak spot instantly.
Her mood was like a eunuch standing before a gorgeous beauty. Not only powerless, but even her heart felt awkward—neither advancing nor retreating, just stuck and frustrated.
This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page to keep reading the good stuff!
When The Fool snapped back to reality, things suddenly changed—Night Lily’s moves started flowing smoothly. Her Flourishing Blossom Palm techniques poured out in a steady stream, and her attacks surged like a tide, making the palace maids clap with excitement. But Night Lily herself knew the truth: just because things looked good didn’t mean she had the upper hand. The Fool had suddenly gotten serious, almost like he was guiding her to attack and switch moves so he could learn from her.
In the palace, Embroidered Jade slowly shook her head. "No need to test any more palm or fist techniques. His level is way above Night Lily’s—there’s nothing left to try."
"Seriously, where did this freak come from?" Flower Shifter said, frustrated. "We still can’t tell if he’s got the No-Dust Mind State or if he’s some martial arts master. If he’s got No-Dust, it’s iffy. If he’s a master, there’s no sign of any Central Plains style. He’s got no internal energy at all, but his level seems sky-high. Totally weird."
"The world is wide, nothing’s really that strange." Embroidered Jade said coolly. "Isn’t the Void Sword Saint the same way?"
"Void Sword Saint? You really rate that big fool highly," Flower Shifter said, stretching lazily. "Forget it, I’m done watching—this is giving me a headache. By the way, sis, what do you think about what Ling Ji said?"
"It’s a big deal. If word gets out, we won’t be able to stay out of it." Embroidered Jade said seriously. "We have to decide within ten days. We can’t keep dragging it out, or something bad will happen."
Flower Shifter nodded, about to say something when she suddenly frowned. "What’s that smell?"
Meanwhile, in the training hall, The Fool suddenly stopped and said, "There’s a weird smell."
Night Lily was confused, but stopped and sniffed—she didn’t smell anything. But just to be safe, she focused her energy on her nose and finally noticed a faint fragrance. She glanced at The Fool—his senses were honestly freakishly sharp.
Just as she was thinking that, the scent grew stronger. Soon, all the palace maids noticed it—even Ling Ji sniffed and muttered, "Lilac? Peony? Are there flowers blooming in the valley?"
"Nope," The Fool shook his head. "I know every flower and herb in the valley—this is from outside." He looked up, his eyes flashing as he scanned the sky, then pointed upward. "There’s a bird up there, with a bag tied to its leg, dropping some kind of powder."
"Not good, hold your breath!" Night Lily’s eyes widened as she shouted, "Cover your mouth and nose, don’t breathe in that scent! Gather everyone, watch out for an attack!" Then she called out with energy, "Who’s causing trouble? Do you know the penalty for offending the princess?"
Just as Night Lily finished, a sweet, sticky voice drifted in on the wind: "Why so tense, sister? The Purple Veil Mist isn’t harmful—it actually helps your energy flow, it’s a real treasure. If you’re so suspicious, you’ll make me sad." That voice was so soft it could melt bones—even the women couldn’t help but trust her. Some palace maids tried it and found their energy still worked fine, with no discomfort.
But the next moment, thick purple mist started to fill the air. It didn’t drift in—it just appeared, like some crazy chemical reaction. In seconds, it was so dense you couldn’t see ten meters ahead. The palace maids started panicking: "My—my energy! My energy’s fading!" They staggered, ready to collapse.
"Heh, you see, now the real fun begins."
Night Lily was sweating and barely standing—the poison was fierce and fast. In the martial world, poison smoke isn’t rare, but it’s hard to use and usually just gets blown away by a palm strike. Rarely does it work on experts. But today’s purple mist was different—she tried everything, but couldn’t blow it away, and her internal energy was draining like a flood.
A wave of weakness hit Night Lily hard, and she shouted angrily, "Who’s hiding out there playing tricks!"
"Oh, this isn’t a trick—it’s a very clever technique," the voice replied, calm and smug. "First, you spike the water supply with a colorless, odorless, harmless solution. Then, you release the slightly fragrant but still harmless Purple Veil Mist. These two steps are just setup—they’re the bait, meant to get deep into your system. The final step is the real killer—ever heard of the Ten-Evil Soul Scatter? Of course not, it’s a secret weapon. Ten-Evil Soul Scatter, first in the art of poison gas. Now that you’ve lost your internal energy, I wonder how your princesses are doing? Hehehe!"
The voice was getting excited, not noticing The Fool had walked over to a throwing-knife maid and snatched a slender leaf-blade. He flicked his wrist and sent it flying—like a flash of light. The laughter cut off, replaced by a furious scream: "You dare cut my clothes? You’ll pay for that!"
At that moment, a boom echoed from the direction of the princesses’ palace, thinning the purple mist. Everyone saw two moonlit figures burst through the roof and soar upward, but a shadow followed close behind, silver light flashing in its hand like a river of stars, slashing toward the two moonlit figures. Another figure in fancy silk spun upward, chasing both princesses.
Night Lily’s face turned pale. "It’s the Silverblade King—and Lady Simone! They’re both here!"
The sound of clothes slicing through mist echoed from the depths of the haze. The women had lost all their energy, and no one knew how many enemies had arrived.
But The Fool spoke up, clear as day: "There are 228 enemies—way tougher than those guys from Phantom Shade Tower."
The women stared at him in shock. Ling Ji looked at him like he was a lifeline, thrilled: "Fool, are you okay?"
"I don’t have any internal energy," The Fool said, stepping in front of the group, his silhouette suddenly towering. "Plus, I don’t drink water."