Wu Tong, known across the martial world as the "Desert Falcon," was the twelfth leader of the Hall of Loyalty. Having roamed the jianghu for many years, he now found himself in rare peril. A single moment of carelessness had led him to consume food and wine laced with drugs by the lamas. His head swam, his vision blurred, and his limbs were weak—he was utterly unable to resist. The cunning behind the poisoning was beyond imagination.
Yet when he saw the young man before him step forward with righteous courage, Wu Tong immediately recognized him as a youth of true spirit and valor. Though uncertain of the boy's martial ability, and though he himself could scarcely protect his own life, his chivalrous heart had not diminished in the slightest. Instead, he was deeply worried for the youth's safety. For this young man, seeing others in distress, dared to stand alone against danger, risking his life to uphold justice—such character was exceedingly rare.
The tall lama, named Ciren Nima, flew into a rage upon hearing Li Jian's words and barked, "Boy, mind your own business!"The slightly plump Zhaxi Duoji sneered darkly, "This brat must have taken a liking to that girl—trying to play the hero and save the beauty!"The short Zhaxi Dele burst into laughter. "If he wants to save a beauty, he should first check if she's even beautiful!"The other lamas joined in with roaring laughter. "Has this fool lost his mind? Take a good look at that girl!"
Li Jian glanced at the girl. Her figure was graceful and slender, yet her face was strikingly ugly. Blushing slightly, he said, "Whether she is beautiful or not, I do not know. I only know that drugging others is despicable and vile!"
Suddenly, Ciren Wangdui struck without warning, his fist shooting toward Li Jian's face. Li Jian dodged swiftly and countered in one fluid motion—his right leg swept out while his left hand pushed forward. The lama lost his footing and fell heavily. Seeing this, the others rushed forward to surround him.
"Jianghu rules—one at a time!" Li Jian called out.
The leading lama grew furious. "This brat must be insane! Not only playing hero, but lecturing us on jianghu rules? We'll teach him a lesson!"
The fallen lama, Ciren Wangdui, rose in a fury, face flushed with rage. "Stand back, senior brothers—let me handle him!" he shouted. He lunged forward, throwing a left punch. Li Jian evaded and kicked out in return. Wangdui dodged and pressed in again, unleashing a flurry of palm strikes.
Li Jian employed grappling techniques—deflecting the first two strikes, then slipping aside on the third to seize Wangdui's right wrist at its vital pulse point. When Wangdui countered with a left punch, Li Jian captured that wrist as well. With both pulse points controlled, Wangdui was shocked and enraged. Struggling in vain, he shouted, "Are you courting death?"
He lashed out with a kick toward Li Jian's groin. In that instant of danger, Li Jian had no choice but to release his grip and shove him away. Wangdui fell to the ground once more.
Humiliated by repeated defeats and the mocking laughter of his fellow lamas, Wangdui's fury burned hotter than ever. Straightening his clothes, he shouted, "You brat, tired of living? Come, let's truly settle this!"
Li Jian, new to the jianghu and lacking experience, failed to grasp the danger. "Very well—but release those two first!" he replied. Little did he know, misfortune had already chosen him.
Wangdui laughed scornfully. "With your pitiful skills, you think you can play the hero? Defeat me first!"
Without hesitation, Li Jian leapt forward, shouting, "Take this!" He unleashed the Five-Animal Fist—Dragon, Tiger, Leopard, Snake, and Crane. With the move "Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain," his claw-like strikes raked toward Wangdui's face.
Wangdui ducked and countered with Prajna Palm, their arms clashing as internal forces met. Li Jian had superior strength; Wangdui possessed deeper inner power. For a time, they were evenly matched.
As the battle continued, Li Jian shifted fluidly between styles—Tiger, then Monkey, then Dragon—his attacks swift and unpredictable. Even Wu Tong, watching despite his weakened state, couldn't help but call out in admiration.
Yet though Li Jian's techniques were ordinary village boxing, he managed to contend with the formidable Prajna Palm. After dozens of exchanges, neither gained the upper hand.
Then, in an instant, the fight erupted into chaos.
Zhaxi Dele, Zhaxi Duoji, and Danba Duozi joined the fray, attacking together. Six iron fists rained down like a storm. Though Li Jian fought fiercely, he could not withstand their numbers.
A sudden blow struck his chest—then another."Bang! Bang!"
Pain exploded through his body like crushing hammers. He staggered, barely maintaining his footing. The lamas pressed forward relentlessly. Forced into desperation, Li Jian dropped low and unleashed a series of sweeping kicks—right, left, again and again—fast as a gale. Several lamas were caught off guard and sent tumbling.
But Zhaxi Dele anticipated the move. With a shout, he leapt into the air and struck down with both palms. Li Jian, not yet steady, took the hit on his shoulder. Pain surged like fire.
Moments later, fists and palms struck him from all sides—his abdomen, his back, his ribs. His organs churned; his vision blurred. Before he could recover, two lamas seized his arms, pinning him in place. The rest descended upon him, beating him mercilessly.
Bruised and bloodied, Li Jian could barely stand. Blood trickled from his lips.
Just as the senior disciple Ciren Nima stepped forward with a cold smile to deliver the final blow, Li Jian's heart trembled. Knowing death was imminent, he acted on instinct and shouted:
"Wait! I have something to say!"
The sudden cry caused the lamas to hesitate.
Gasping for breath, Li Jian said loudly, "A few days ago, I found a prayer wheel on the road. Could it belong to you masters? If so, I will return it with both hands and offer my apology!"
As he spoke, he fixed his gaze on them, secretly gathering his inner strength, ready to seize any chance to escape.
The unexpected words caused the lamas to exchange glances. Their brows furrowed slightly. For a brief moment, the violence paused—and the battlefield fell into a tense silence.