My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

In the corridor, the crackling of the burning torches couldn't drown out the heavy breathing.

Twenty or thirty gray-robed monks surrounded Ye Qingfeng and Shen Zhaoyue, holding clubs and knives, their eyes gleaming with excitement in the firelight.

The grease from the torches dripped onto the ground, sizzling and echoing in the narrow corridor along with the monks' heavy breathing.

Shen Zhaoyue gripped the hilt of her knife tightly, her gaze quickly sweeping over her surroundings.

Twenty-three.

There were seven in the east corridor, nine in the west, and seven more behind Huiming.

Their positions were not loose; they subtly formed an encirclement.

These were no ordinary monks; each of them was burly and strong, with a steady stance and solid foundation, clearly indicating that they had practiced martial arts for many years.

She licked her dry lips and tightened her grip on the knife.

The area where my thumb and forefinger had been cracked was still bleeding and sticky, making it difficult to hold the knife steadily.

She switched the knife to her left hand, wiped her right hand on her clothes, and then gripped it tightly again.

Ye Qingfeng stood half a step behind her, with his hands behind his back.

The torchlight shone on his face, and his expression was as calm as if he were strolling through a temple fair.

Huiming stood at the front of the crowd, wearing a gold-embroidered kasaya, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and a smile on his face.

That smile was neither sinister nor ambiguous, like a cat looking at a mouse that had been cornered against a wall.

His gaze swept back and forth between the two of them, lingering on Shen Zhaoyue for a moment before landing on Ye Qingfeng, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice not loud, but clear enough to reach everyone's ears.

"You broke into the sacred Buddhist sanctuary at night and killed my disciple. How are we going to settle this score?"

Shen Zhaoyue remained silent.

She stared at Huiming, but out of the corner of her eye, she was watching the movements of the monks.

The ones on the east side have already moved forward half a step, and those on the west side are also quietly moving. These people are tightening the encirclement.

Seeing that she didn't answer, Huiming smiled and turned his gaze to Ye Qingfeng.

"This Taoist priest looks unfamiliar. May I ask where he practices?"

Ye Qingfeng looked at him, but still didn't say anything.

Huiming waited a few moments, but received no response. His smile froze for a moment, then returned to normal.

"Fine," he waved his hand, "whoever you are, since you're here tonight, you're not leaving."

He took a step back and waved his hand:

"Take it down."

As soon as he finished speaking, the monks moved!

The seven from the east were the first to rush up.

They coordinated perfectly, with three wielding sticks in front and four holding knives behind. The sticks swept down the lower body, while the knives slashed up the upper body, attacking simultaneously from different angles.

The staff whistled through the air, the blade flashed, and it aimed straight for Shen Zhaoyue's vitals!

Shen Zhaoyue took a step forward and slashed horizontally with her goose feather blade!

As the blade flashed, the two monks at the front, wielding staffs, hurriedly withdrew their staffs to block.

The clash of knives and clubs produced a loud clang that made the two men's hands go numb, forcing them to stagger back two steps.

Before they could even regain their footing, Shen Zhaoyue slashed at the third man's throat with her blade!

The monk hurriedly leaned back, and the blade grazed his Adam's apple, cutting through his skin and drawing out beads of blood.

He was so frightened that his face turned pale, and he took three or four steps back, bumping into his accomplice behind him.

"Go! All of you, go!" someone shouted.

Four more monks rushed at them.

Shen Zhaoyue dodged the blow by the side and slashed at the opponent's shoulder with her backhand.

The blade pierced the flesh, and the monk screamed in agony as the staff slipped from his grasp.

She kicked him in the chest, sending him flying and knocking over the two people behind him.

The swords flashed again.

She fought and retreated, her sword strikes growing ever faster.

Although these monks had practiced martial arts, they were not true masters of the martial arts world. They could handle being attacked by three or five people, but they would show their weaknesses when attacked by a large number of people.

Shen Zhaoyue seized an opening and stabbed a monk in the abdomen with a knife, drawing out a spray of blood as she pulled it out.

The monk clutched his stomach and collapsed, his screams abruptly ceasing.

The monks who were besieging the monks were stunned for a moment.

In that instant, Shen Zhaoyue strode forward, her blade flashing, and two more monks fell beneath her blade.

......

At the same time, several other monks bypassed Shen Zhaoyue and rushed towards Ye Qingfeng.

In their eyes, the Taoist priest, standing with his hands behind his back and looking like a sage, was probably just a charlatan pretending to be a god.

That woman is really good at fighting. We need to take down this Taoist priest first, and then help the abbot deal with that woman.

The three monks were the first to rush in front of Ye Qingfeng, slashing down with their monk's knives from three directions.

The top, middle, and bottom lanes completely blocked all angles for dodging.

Ye Qingfeng raised his right hand.

With a gentle flick of his sleeve.

The movement was as casual as shooing away a fly.

An invisible, immense force surged from the sleeve. The three monks were sent flying backward as if struck by a charging bull, crashing into their comrades who were rushing towards them from behind.

The sound of bones breaking was crisp and loud, and screams rose and fell. Four or five people rolled around in a heap, unable to get up for a long time.

A monk's ribs were broken; the sharp bone pierced through his flesh, revealing its whiteness.

His other arm was bent at an odd angle, and he was writhing on the ground in pain.

Another person was clutching their chest, with large amounts of blood gushing from the corner of their mouth.

Shen Zhaoyue caught a glimpse of this scene out of the corner of her eye, and her pupils contracted slightly.

That force...

Before she could think any further, another monk rushed at her.

The swords flashed again.

She fought and retreated, unknowingly putting a few steps between herself and Ye Qingfeng.

......

Huiming stood at the back of the crowd, watching the Taoist priest make his move, his brows furrowing slightly.

Sending three people flying with a flick of the sleeve—that's no martial arts technique.

He stared at Ye Qingfeng, his gaze gradually changing.

The Taoist priest stood still, without moving an inch from beginning to end.

His sleeves hung down, and he still stood with his hands behind his back, his expression as calm as if nothing had happened.

The monks around him were stunned by his sleeve, and for a moment no one dared to step forward.

Huiming remained silent for a moment, then suddenly strode towards Shen Zhaoyue.

He walked slowly, but each step he took coincided with the gaps in Shen Zhaoyue's sword swings.

As if receiving a signal, the monks who were besieging Shen Zhaoyue quickly moved aside, making way for him.

Just as Shen Zhaoyue had repelled two monks, she suddenly felt a powerful force attacking from the side!

She instinctively raised her sword to block—

"Bang!"

A hand slapped the blade.

The force was astonishing; Shen Zhaoyue staggered back seven or eight steps, her back slamming against the corridor wall with a dull thud.

She groaned, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. The web between her thumb and forefinger, gripping the knife, was completely shattered, and blood trickled down the hilt.

Huiming withdrew her hand, stood where she had just been, and looked down at her palm.

The palm glowed with a faint golden light, and in the firelight, it even had a somewhat solemn and dignified appearance.

"The swords from the Six Doors are indeed quite good."

He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears, "It's a pity the person wielding the knife was a bit lacking."

Shen Zhaoyue leaned against the wall, panting heavily.

Her hand holding the knife was trembling.

It wasn't fear, but the uncontrollable spasms in the muscles after the tiger's mouth was shattered.

She switched to holding the knife in her left hand, while her right hand hung at her side, and drops of blood fell to the ground.

Huiming looked at her and smiled.

He raised his right hand.

The golden hand slowly turned in the firelight, palm facing outwards, fingers slightly bent.

"The Vajra Palm of Buddhism," he said, a hint of boasting in his voice, "when mastered, a single strike can travel seven or eight zhang (approximately 33-40 meters). Can you catch it?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he raised his hand and slapped Shen Zhaoyue from a distance!