Chapter 3792 — Unable to Speak
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 3
You have to understand: for a cultivator who had only just succeeded in establishing his Foundation and was still in the early Foundation stage, being struck head-on by the Thousand-Leg Art, Twenty-One Forms was almost certainly fatal. In other words, Qiao Hongcai's strategy of wounding himself first to wound the enemy meant there was a very good chance he would be beaten to death before he ever got a chance to counterattack.
And that possibility was not small at all!
Moreover, even setting all that aside, supposing Qiao Hongcai truly could withstand Meng Zhou's Thousand-Leg Art, Twenty-One Forms, he still might not be able to find an opening for a desperate counterattack.
Because taking the full damage of the Thousand-Leg Art head-on would inevitably leave him gravely injured. Once his meridians were damaged and the true qi within his body could no longer circulate, then no matter how long he had been gathering power for the Iron Cold Palm, it would be useless. He would not even be able to unleash it, let alone counterattack.
And yet, knowing full well how slim his chances of winning were, Qiao Hongcai had gambled without the slightest hesitation. Any normal person, unless driven to utter desperation, who the hell would gamble like some suicidal madman? Was his head full of holes?
Ruthless to others, and even more ruthless to himself—this good-for-nothing Qiao might have looked like he would collapse at a single blow, but unexpectedly he was a man ruthless through and through. Truly, you cannot judge a person by their appearance, nor measure the sea with a bucket!
At this moment on the stage, Meng Zhou had taken the full ten-tenths force of the Iron Cold Palm, Twenty-One Forms. His face was as gold as paper and he was coughing up blood without pause. Though he did not look about to breathe his last just yet, he did not even have the strength to speak a single word, and expecting him to stand up and fight again was sheer fantasy.
By contrast, Qiao Hongcai, with one desperate counterattack born of supreme forbearance, had not only reversed the situation in an instant but had nearly finished Meng Zhou outright with a single move. Such a feat truly blinded the eyes of everyone in the arena.
It was no exaggeration to say that with today's battle, Qiao Hongcai would absolutely make his name. As for the nickname "Good-for-nothing Qiao," it would be severed from him forever.
If he was a good-for-nothing, then what did that make Meng Zhou, the man Meng Jueming had championed with all his heart? A spineless fool who could not even beat a mere good-for-nothing?
Wei Zhao and the others exchanged glances, all of them wearing expressions of deep satisfaction. Qiao Hongcai's earlier move—that reserve held to the very end—had truly been a breath of fresh air!
"What did I say before? I said Junior Brother Qiao was no creature of the ordinary pond, just like the rest of you. See, I called it, didn't I!" the Long-Suffering Senior Brother exclaimed, so overjoyed he could barely string his words together.
The years of his long-suffering life had taught him one lesson in blood: without strength, you are long-suffering wherever you go. Whatever good thing comes along, you get pushed to the side; whatever bad thing comes along, you get shoved forward to take the blame. In the end, it all came down to the old saying—fall behind, and you get beaten.
In the world of cultivation, the sole measure of one's right to speak was strength. With great strength, everything could be discussed; without it, you could only shut up and stand aside.
The Long-Suffering Senior Brother knew this from bitter experience. Before, the rise of Wei Zhao alone had been enough to stand on equal footing with Meng Jueming. Now Qiao Hongcai was showing signs of rising to become another powerhouse. And if Xiao Che was counted in as well, then in the days to come they could speak and act with full confidence, no longer living in fear.