Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 115 Father and Son Clash, Techniques Suppress Evil
The moment Jiang Liang said this, the atmosphere in the room froze.

Jiang Yi was slightly taken aback at first, then a smile slowly spread across his eyes. He gave a soft hum, his tone indifferent yet undeniably smug:
"You're quite something, kid. You've got some of your father's skills."

Liu Xiulian, however, could no longer contain her anger. She moved swiftly, stepping forward in a flash.

He firmly held Li Wenya's arm with one hand, and words kept flowing from his mouth:
“You’ve only been sitting still for a short while, how come you’re already… Oh dear, you’d better be careful this time! Walk carefully when going uphill or downhill, especially on those village roads, the slopes are steep and the bends are sharp, one slip and it’ll be terrible…”

As she spoke, her hands and feet were constantly moving; she even circled Wenya halfway around, as if worshipping a magic lamp, her expression very solemn.

She had only spoken halfway when she suddenly glanced at Jiang Ming out of the corner of her eye.

That gaze was neither too intense nor too weak, yet it was like a feather, sweeping with perfect precision, clearly conveying a message.

“Look at your brother, and then look at yourself.”

Jiang Ming was engrossed in stirring his tea with fruit pits when this commotion startled him. He paused, coughed, as if tea leaves had choked him.

The people inside burst into laughter.

Even Jiang Feng was giggling in his childish voice, making the whole room feel warm and cozy.

After chatting for a while, Liu Xiulian rolled up her sleeves and went to tidy up the house.

The old house has been uninhabited for the past two years; the interior is covered in dust, and cobwebs have grown on the windowsills.

Li Wenya and Jiang Feng were both still breathless and couldn't stay at the foot of the mountain, so they naturally had to settle down here first.

Seeing this, Jiang Liang also got up to lend a hand.

But before he could take a step, a voice called out from behind:

"Second brother."

The voice was neither loud nor soft, like a gust of wind in a bamboo forest after the rain, which stopped him in his tracks.

He turned around and saw Jiang Ming standing in the courtyard, his expression normal, but his eyes held a hint of seriousness.

With one hand behind his back, he didn't say much, only:

"Practice that set of staff techniques again so I can see."

They said it casually, but there was absolutely no room for negotiation.

Jiang Liang was taken aback.

In previous years, the two brothers had sparred and exchanged techniques, but it was mostly after meals and tea. They would talk about seven or eight parts of the topic before they would actually demonstrate their moves.

Unlike today, they're eager to see what you've done as soon as they set foot on the ground.

Jiang Yi leaned against the threshold, holding a teapot in his hand. He glanced at his eldest son and immediately understood what was going on.

This eldest son, he really can't let go of his worries.

The bloody and violent approach used by children may be fast and effective.

It can be so deadly that it can penetrate to the bone and be so bloodthirsty that it can easily cause one to lose control of one's temper and fall into madness.

This kid has come back from the battlefield, licking blood from the blade, his ferocity seeping into his bones.

It's not visible from the outside, but you never know which meridian has quietly gone astray.

Jiang Yi thought for a moment, then raised his hand and waved, saying:
"I'd like to see how much of that martial arts-based qi-boosting method that your mother sent you back then has you mastered."

Jiang Liang always listened to his father and elder brother, so he nodded in agreement and smiled politely.

The father and his two sons got up, walked through the newly cultivated orchard and medicinal herb field, and strolled slowly down the soft dirt path toward their new house at the foot of the mountain.

The air was filled with the fragrance of herbs and the spiritual energy of the air. Even the wind carried a moist scent, which made my ears feel clearer.

As soon as Jiang Liang stepped into the courtyard, he paused slightly, his nose twitched, and his expression brightened.

"Father, this place is really something else these days."

He chuckled and shook his head: "If it were any denser, it might even condense into mist. If Feng'er cultivates in this room in the future, who knows, he might end up riding roughshod over us."

As he spoke, he strolled forward, glancing around before casually pulling an old wooden stick from the corner of the wall.

Without even taking a stance, he simply put his feet down slightly and began to fight in the center of the courtyard.

The moment the staff technique was unleashed, the wind howled, the grass and leaves in the yard flew everywhere, and even the roof tiles trembled slightly.

Each move, though not particularly flashy, is deadly.

The sweeping, slashing, entangling, and turning techniques all exude a fierce and ruthless power, without employing any feints or empty moves.

This approach is clearly something forged on the battlefield, not something put on for outsiders.

Although Jiang Liang's attack was ruthless, he fought with remarkable composure. His steps were as steady as a rock, his breath as deep as an ancient well, and his eyes were clear and bright, showing no sign of any rising killing intent.

It was as if he had long ago refined that bloodthirsty aura into his very bones and swallowed it into his blood and qi, remaining calm and collected while licking blood from the blade.

In this way, the originally fierce moves became more refined and composed, with a sense of "refined through countless trials and tribulations, returning to simplicity".

Jiang Mingchu watched with delight, arms crossed, his eyes showing a mixture of brotherly comfort and pride, thinking that the boy had finally gotten the hang of things.

After watching a dozen or so moves, his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

It's not that I practiced it incorrectly.

On the contrary, he was so steady in his training that he was in such good form that he showed no signs of aggression whatsoever.

He lowered his gaze, no longer looking closely. He swayed slightly, picked up a wooden stick, and without making a sound, stepped straight into the arena.

Upon seeing this, Jiang Liang's eyes lit up, and he immediately assumed a stance with his staff to meet the attack.

Jiang Ming's stick fighting style has always followed a steady and traditional approach, without any fancy moves, each move is grounded and as stable as an old tree stump.

But Jiang Liang took it seriously this time.

The ordinary wooden stick in his hand seemed to have been pulled out of the battlefield, and every move he made was filled with a bloodthirsty and murderous aura.

The two brothers exchanged blows, but after only a dozen or so moves, Jiang Ming felt his breath being suppressed step by step, and he had to retreat slightly, with even the tip of his staff making a sound of wind breaking.

This wasn't a test; they were genuinely beaten down.

For the first time, Jiang Liang actually gained a solid advantage when sparring with his brother.

Jiang Yili stood to the side, his eyes barely narrowed, but he already knew what was going on.

The child's stick contains energy, and within that energy lies spirit. The visualization is complete, and the form and intent are beginning to merge. Although he has not yet reached the pinnacle, he has already firmly trod the path.

Ultimately, a distance had grown between her and Jiang Ming.

Looking at Jiang Ming again, there was no panic on his face, but his hands were already showing signs of strain.

This battle may not reveal the true strength of the child.

Jiang Yi watched for a while and felt a slight itch in his bones.

He reached out and grabbed a long stick from the wall, then with a flick of his wrist and a step, he entered the arena.

He hasn't been idle these past two years, practicing diligently every day. Now, when he swings his stick, the wind howls.

The energy surged within his body, flowing out along the momentum of the staff, creating a powerful gust of wind that possessed an overwhelming and unstoppable force.

It forcefully shattered the blood energy that Jiang Liang had been clinging to the stick, which was neither loose nor loose.

Seeing his father do it himself, the little boy's excitement only intensified.

With a flick of the wrist, the staff was propelled forward, and blood energy surged forth like a spring, condensing into a red light at the tip of the staff. It was faint as mist, yet it concealed a deadly intent.

Each blow came crashing down, chilling and icy, as if trying to hammer the person opposite, soul and spirit, into the ground.

Jiang Yi, however, was also very strong. He remained calm and composed, each move steady and powerful. His staff technique was swift and fluid, and his rhythm was impenetrable. He did not fall behind in the slightest.

The father and son fought fiercely, their sticks flashing back and forth, creating a flurry of stick shadows and the sound of wind whistling through the air.

The branches and leaves of several fruit trees over there trembled wildly, chickens flew and dogs barked, and the curtains hanging at the door were all rolled up into twisted pretzel shapes.

After a stick of incense had burned, the two had not yet become truly angry, but they had already exchanged over a hundred moves.

Fortunately, he was adept at controlling the flow and had a very tight grasp of the situation.

In the end, they all took a step back, straightened their staffs, and withdrew their breath, simultaneously ending their moves.

Although Jiang Liang's staff was fierce and his killing intent was overwhelming.

Yet his eyes remained steady, his breathing long and even, and despite the surging of his blood and qi, there was no sign of him losing his composure.

Jiang Yi and Jiang Ming exchanged a glance before finally letting out their anger.

Jiang Ming lost early, but he wasn't angry. Instead, he stepped forward, patted Jiang Ming on the shoulder, and grinned.

"You're really something. You've truly honed your composure amidst piles of dead bodies."

Jiang Liang chuckled, retracted his stick, and swayed his shoulder, conveying a sense of ease.
"It's still the magic technique that Father passed down that's effective. Relying solely on the theory of sitting in oblivion is really not enough to suppress this bloodthirsty energy."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Yi immediately frowned and lowered his voice:

"What kind of magic formula?"

(End of this chapter)