荒墟牧神 - 第37章 一聲震醒沉聾魂 - 錦書坊

ther Chu. And beyond that, the man had attained a lofty mastery of combat skill besides. His palm technique was profound and deep, its momentum like a towering mountain; the instant the force of his palm was released, mountain veins would bloom forth from his palm. Yet by now victory and defeat upon the platform were already clear. Shen Mu was mighty in strength and savage in force, swift in footwork; the young man had suffered badly the very first time they matched palms, for Shen Mu's vast and vigorous vital essence crushed his own outright! What Shen Mu employed was the Nine Dragons Commanding Wind and Thunder; though only three of the nine layers of power burst forth, the young man's organs were already injured. For all the subtlety of his swordsmanship, the outcome was settled. Shen Mu ran with tangled, staggering steps, like a thousand snakes writhing through the grass, east one instant and west the next, forward, then back, so that the young man could not tell from where his attack would come; the next moment a pain struck him between the shoulder blades, and a single palm from Shen Mu sent him flying. The young man landed, stared blankly for a moment, then bowed to Shen Mu on the platform. "My thanks to the young brother for his mercy." That last palm had indeed been printed upon his back, and with great force—yet the force was not harsh, and had not injured heart or lungs; otherwise, with Shen Mu's strength, he could have smashed every one of his five organs to powder! "Does my junior brother wish to rest?" Mingyue had stood quietly waiting there all this while, and only once Shen Mu had defeated the young man did he speak. Shen Mu's gaze fell upon him. The monk was young in years, dressed in white robes of dyed cloth, untouched by a single speck of dust; even the shoes on his feet were white, and the man himself was fair and clean. Though his head was shaved bare, he was still strikingly handsome, and made men feel a liking for him without knowing why. He was about to answer that there was no need, when Granny Zhu's voice came suddenly: "Rest! You must rest!" Puzzled as to her meaning, Shen Mu nonetheless did as Granny Zhu said, sat down to rest, and regulated his breath. His Mystic Body Three-Cinnabar Art was suited to cultivation while in motion; though he had already fought more than ten martial artists, his vital essence was scarcely depleted, and he still stood at the peak of his state—only his body was somewhat weary. Granny Zhu brought a cup of water up onto the platform, put it into Shen Mu's hand, and said in a low voice, "Shen'er, whatever means you use, you must win this time—you must not lose! Your Grandpa Huo has taken a wager against that old bald thief; he has staked his own life upon it!" Shen Mu's heart lurched, and he hurriedly looked toward Huo Ye, whose face was calm; his voice came to him: "Shen'er, the peerless Overlord Body absolutely cannot lose! I believe in you." Though he spoke so, Shen Mu was still somewhat shaken. The people of the village were all his kin, but the ones dearest to him, after Granny Zhu, were Huo Ye. It was Huo Ye who in those years had shouldered the stone statue upon one arm and gone out of the village with Granny Zhu, and picked him up from the riverside, saving his life! If he were to lose, would he not have brought about Huo Ye's death? Master Dan, too, was frowning deeply. Huo Ye believed Shen Mu to be the peerless Overlord Body and had faith in him—but Shen Mu was not an Overlord Body after all. He now somewhat regretted having helped the village headman conceal that kindly lie. Had the truth been told them earlier, Huo Ye would never have staked his life. It was precisely out of his trust in Shen Mu that Huo Ye had wagered his life against the white-browed monk! Suddenly a murderous light flashed in Master Dan's eyes: "If Shen'er loses, then kill this old bald donkey and the little bald donkey too. Huo Ye must not be sent to his death!" Upon the platform, Shen Mu w