Top Grade Immortal Emperor in the Flower City

The sudden appearance of the young monk brought a sense of profound shame and insult to the warriors of the Island Nation.

"I came here to challenge, and your so-called eighteen bronze men couldn't last more than a few rounds against me, and now you've actually called upon a delicate-looking young monk."

It was definitely an insult, the ultimate insult. Could it be they intended to send a youngster to make me show mercy?

"Benefactor, please make your move," said the monk.

The young monk smiled slightly, still with his hands pressed together in a prayerful gesture, showing not the slightest ripple of emotion, as if he were an old tree taking root and sprouting anew.

"Such strong composure, or rather, such confidence. Otherwise, there wouldn't be such tranquility," admired Ye Ling, the young monk was no ordinary fellow. It seemed that the samurai from the Island Nation was in for a hard time and might even suffer defeat.

With a ferocious smile, the Island Nation's warrior said, "Well then, don't accuse me of bullying the young. Remember, my name is Yamada Fifty-Six. When you're in hell, don't forget to call my name."

"Amitabha, after death, this humble monk will enter the Pure Land of the West. As for you, benefactor, destined for hell, we walk different paths and have different aims. Let's cease the idle talk," the young monk said with a light smile, leaving the crowd taken aback. Ha, that amusing little monk, with just one sentence, he left Yamada Fifty-Six red-faced and grinding his teeth in anger.

"Hmph, I'll see whether it's your mouth or my Dongyang Knife that's sharper!" retorted Yamada Fifty-Six.

As he spoke, Yamada Fifty-Six suddenly charged forward like a bolt of thunder, gripping the Dongyang Knife in both hands and slashing wildly at the young monk.

Whoosh, as if the blade had cut through running water, the knife fell and even the air seemed to stand still for a moment.

Spectators around, nervously watching, stared as the young monk faced this ferocious strike, wondering how he would defuse such a fierce attack.

Against Yamada Fifty-Six's violent strike, the young monk gave a faint chuckle, took a step, and moved like a butterfly, floating gently and gracefully, easily sidestepping the vicious slice.

The Dongyang Knife, following the trail of the young monk's face, came down with terrifying intent but ended up chopping through nothing but air.

"Well done!"

"That's right, thrash that son of a bitch. He dared to challenge us at Shaolin Temple. He doesn't know who his parents are!" exclaimed the onlookers, bursting into cheers. But at that moment, Yamada Fifty-Six's face suddenly contorted, and he twisted his wrist, using his shoulder to power through.

Whoosh, the Dongyang Knife suddenly swept sideways towards the young monk in a strike that terrified everyone—the knife moved too fast, both in speed and force.

Ye Ling smiled faintly, the strike might look powerful but was full of flaws; the young monk should have no trouble dealing with it.

Just as expected, the young monk still smiled like a blooming flower, and his palm shot out fiercely, like lightning, and in an instant it was upon Yamada Fifty-Six's palm.

With a smack, Yamada Fifty-Six took a powerful blow from the young monk, the force knocking the Dongyang Knife right out of his hand.

With a clang, the Dongyang Knife fell to the ground, ringing with a crisp sound. Yamada Fifty-Six stood frozen in silence; meanwhile, the young monk pressed his advantage.

Pop, with a tap of his foot, the young monk leapt into the air, light as a swallow taking flight.

Wow, everyone gasped in amazement. Now that's real kung fu, not like the reality TV shows, which are nothing but fancy moves without substance.

Bang, the first kick landed squarely on Yamada Fifty-Six's chest, sending shockwaves through his body and leaving his eyes wide with disbelief.

Immediately following, the little monk's legs became like phantoms, his tiptoes tapping repeatedly, and his body unexpectedly stayed horizontal in mid-air.

Thud thud thud, the dull sounds exploded against Yamada Fifty-Six's chest; with each tap of the monk's toes, Yamada Fifty-Six stepped back repeatedly.

Everyone was stunned by the scene before them, one they would find hard to forget—this was the legendary Shadowless Kick of Foshan, yet it was far more thrilling than any movie!

Finally, after unleashing over a dozen kicks, the little monk ceased his attack, steadying himself firmly on the ground. Then he brought his hands together in prayer and gave a slight bow towards the standing Yamada Fifty-Six.

With a thud, Yamada Fifty-Six collapsed heavily to the ground, spewing out a mouthful of blood, his eyes rolling back as he fainted.

"Bravo! Beautiful, haha, the little monk is mighty! I'm your fan from now on, a fan!"

"Mom asks me why I kneel when coming to Shaolin Temple—I freaking admire, admire this little master!"

"Little monk, I love you, I want you to... you know... on me—who's so fierce, who's so powerful, finish off all those beasts from the Island Nation!"

Instantly, everyone was boiling with excitement, laughing out loud, many recording the scene with their phones and sharing the video right away, the caption already written.

Shaolin little master, furiously thrashing the shameless man from the Island Nation, the legendary serial kicks really exist—sweeping a whopping 666 in one go!

"Xiao Xing, he's so cool!"

Li Ke's eyes sparkled with stars; this little monk was simply too handsome, even more beautiful than a woman, with skin so fine and a smile as refreshing as a spring breeze.

On the side, Mo Xing was grinding his teeth in anger, "Dammit, just a monk, and yet he could compete in reproducing monkeys?!"

On the stage, Master Shiren smiled slightly, "A monk harbors compassion. Since this devoted guest has been defeated, could someone please call an ambulance? Shaolin Temple is willing to cover all medical costs."

"Master, just leave him hanging, why pay for medical expenses? He came here to provoke us, by our legal rules, if someone comes to provoke, even if their legs are broken, or their manhood is destroyed, it's not against the law!"

"Manhood? You can pull the other one; it's like a toothpick. Who has the eyesight and effort to break his... you know what."

"That's true, the pitifully arrogant people from the Island Nation, are you still going to act tough? Act in front of your grandpa, you're simply not up to par!"

The tourists around were all impassioned, their blood boiling, and across from them, the little monk smiled slightly towards the several Samurai from the Island Nation, "That plaque does not belong to our Huaxia. Take it back from whence it came."

Click, look at that, another monk acting tough in such a stylish way, his words double-edged.

The meaning was clear: this plaque of cowards should be taken back. You're not up to the task—haven't you noticed your leader lying there on the ground, completely paralyzed?

Look at you guys; I bet the end will be no different. Goodbye, stop the nonsense.

Just then, a middle-aged man walked in, wooden clogs on his feet, a kimono on his body, and a Dongyang Knife at his waist.

His expression was commanding; a breeze blew by, lifting a loose sleeve—an empty sleeve. He was missing an arm, a disabled person.

"Twenty years have passed, and I have returned!"

The man walked up to Yamada Fifty-Six, looked at the pathetic fellow on the ground, and gave a cold smile.

"Was it you who did this?"