Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Eunuch with the Cotton Palm

Kou Li studied the newcomer: tiny feet, barely five feet tall, a complexion dark and blue, knees slightly bent, arms at his sides like hammers, no beard on his chin, no Adam’s apple on his throat, smiling softly and feebly.

This was an old eunuch.

“Well, it makes sense. After all, three months have passed—it’s about time to act.” As Kou Li spoke, he inwardly wondered what status this Miss Huang possessed to command a eunuch.

“Before she arrived, the young lady instructed me: if you can capture him alive, do so. So, Master Kou, you’d best come quietly with me. Perhaps the young lady will show mercy and spare your wretched life.”

Kou Li’s eyes grew cold. He took a deep breath; from throat to joints and fascia, a guttural roar sounded, swelling louder and louder, as if ten fierce tigers circled him, howling in unison.

“I’m a timid fellow, don’t frighten me.” Despite his words, the eunuch’s tiny feet moved swiftly, his gait dragon-like and serpentine, his whole body seemingly without force, yet within a few heartbeats he stood before Kou Li.

The old eunuch’s soft hand reached for Kou Li’s chest.

Kou Li responded instantly: his figure blurred into a shadow, spinning with tiger-like agility, evading the lunge. His knuckles protruded, fingertips flicked out, clawing for the opponent’s eyes—bow stance, tiger’s paw.

The eunuch twisted back, his hand snapped out with a crisp slap, striking Kou Li’s shoulder, sending a violent trembling force through his body, using the momentum to spin and chase like a phantom.

Had Kou Li not trained his bones and sinews to withstand northern boxing energy, just this blow would have flayed him to ribbons and shattered his bones.

Such a vicious whip-hand!

He sank into a tiger stance—raising his knee, tightening his pelvis, drawing his abdomen inward. His blood and energy plunged downward at tenfold speed, stabilizing his base before the eunuch could close in. Little tiger covers his head, elbow raised and jabbed, summoning a spiral force from nowhere, striking toward the opponent’s forehead.

“Such ferocity!” The old eunuch feigned a smile, fingers arching, rocking backward like a tumbler, skillfully dodging the elbow.

But Kou Li, a veteran of dozens of bouts, was well versed in technique. His qi and blood surged noisily within, shoulders sunk, elbows weighted, following through without the slightest pause.

This strike was as a blacksmith’s hammer upon iron, the tip of his elbow glowing red-hot, smashing down and splitting the air with a whistling sound.

A solid hit would crush ribs and spine alike.

The eunuch clasped both hands, lightly hooking and wrapping Kou Li’s shoulder, conjuring a wrapping force out of thin air, borrowing the power of that elbow to coil upward.

Like mud stuck to one’s shoe—impossible to shake off.

This move, among the Cotton Palm techniques, was called “Gathering All Bones and Sinews.” In gathering, not only did he collect his own energy, but also absorbed the opponent’s force; when released, it became a killing strike to decapitate and dismember.

Kou Li’s ear twitched, his hair bristled, and his figure shot two yards away in a bow-and-arrow leap, seeking life at the brink of death.

“Hm?” The old eunuch was genuinely surprised; his opponent had evaded almost as if foreseeing the attack, otherwise he would have followed up with a short-punch to cripple or kill.

Moreover, the opponent’s qi and blood recovered at a truly abnormal rate. Some boxing prodigies could shine in improvisation, but at his level, with such profound palm force, even if the opponent sensed it, he shouldn’t react in time.

“Mastered boxing!” Kou Li now regarded his adversary with utmost vigilance. Once a style reaches mastery, every move can unleash unique internal force, the form concealed within, with no sign before the strike.

Beyond that, he could scarcely imagine how the eunuch’s movement and palm techniques could be so uncanny.

“Don’t think that just because you know some boxing in this place of exile, you’re special. I’ve seen countless prodigies—you’re not even worth their little finger!” The old eunuch sneered, his steps forming a seamless line. Where he passed, not only were there no footprints, but the grass beneath remained untouched—old force not yet spent, new force already born, leaving no trace on snow.

This footwork surpassed the Cold Chicken Step; it was already the pinnacle of the Ghost Shadow style.

Kou Li drew a deep breath. With the eunuch’s footwork, escape was impossible—and he did not plan to flee. In boxing, victory is five parts strength, three parts environment, two parts will.

He still had a two-part chance!

As his eyes narrowed, the eunuch’s face was suddenly pressed to his own.

Short-range punches are driven by the dantian, the tailbone trembling, killing with the root joints.

Within half a foot, none could withstand Kou Li’s inch-strike!

A fierce gleam flashed in his eyes. He advanced instead of retreating, dantian surging, ten fingers bent, knuckles raised, a pungent energy swirling, launching himself with no hesitation.

The old eunuch hadn’t expected such decisiveness; just as he seized the advantage, his opponent traded injury for injury, life for life. With a strange laugh, he lightly touched his palm to Kou Li, turtle-like, his figure suddenly vanishing beneath Kou Li, whereabouts unknown.

Kou Li, after leaping two yards forward, was about to gather strength for a retreat, when something felt amiss.

His lead leg felt as if weighed by a thousand pounds, utterly immovable.

Somehow, the eunuch had circled his legs and locked Kou Li’s front foot and knee, his energy sealed and unified.

This was called the “Great Yin Blocking Method” in boxing. Used expertly, it could even block the flow of qi and blood in the opponent’s lower limbs.

But the technique had a major flaw: if the hold slipped, and the opponent thrust from the groin, striking the vital gate, the outcome would be decided in an instant.

Yet for a eunuch, this weakness no longer mattered. Masters among eunuchs, having long sacrificed their essence, transformed the method—concealing the horse’s yin, guarding the elixir, so its power was not diminished but increased.

Even with full exertion of the Qi Conduit and Child’s Posture, Kou Li’s blood and energy could not escape the collapse.

This was absolute suppression by boxing prowess; no matter how many rounds Kou Li struggled with wit and effort, he was like the Monkey King beneath the Buddha’s palm, pinned firmly under the mountain.

He could not break through this heaven!

The old eunuch chuckled, his palm gently patting down. It seemed weak, yet the pale cadaverous palm was chilling, like a corpse.

Just then, Kou Li’s rear foot toes gripped the ground, his spine snapped like a serpent—retreating instead of advancing, almost in defiance of physics.

To the eunuch’s eyes, Kou Li’s bones and skin twisted and bulged, like a snake shedding its skin. With a muffled thud, his back slammed heavily into a tree.

Interesting!

Under the eunuch’s sealing qi and broken stance, this “snake shedding its skin” move should have been powerless, but the marvel was in this fortuitous collision with the tree. Borrowing external force, not only did he evade the palm, but also unleashed a rebound force.

Digging in with his toes, twisting sideways, he drove his inner knee to open a gap, riding the momentum of the snake’s shed skin—transmuting from tiger to man, straddling the tiger and grabbing its fur, compressing his blood and energy into his upper body, which exploded with a thunderous sound. In this life-or-death moment, his aura reached a new height.

Joint reversed, shoulder spun outward—fierce tiger climbs the mountain!

The shoulder, the vanguard of the body, drove the force as if it were a tiger’s head chopper, the butcher’s blade at the market, hanging horizontally, descending fiercely, slashing traitors above, wicked eunuchs below.

Slashing to kill the dead eunuch!

The old eunuch’s eyes narrowed, spirit heightened, gathering all his power; dantian whirled, rolling and surging, the vital gate drew on the dantian, which sucked upward along the spine—this was the “swallow.”

How do waves roll? The sea first draws backward and upward, amassing strength, brewing the ocean’s power to its peak, absorbing and engulfing everything.

Tiger bone as blade, a force unmatched in ferocity, slashed down upon the wave. But before the force could even be unleashed, it was absorbed by the swirling ocean.

The vital gate drove the dantian, which spun in a circle, transforming the torso into a surging wave, then crashed downward and forward, carrying the previous blade’s force—drowning land and mountains, unstoppable!

This was the “spit.”

While the chest drew back, the shoulder thrust forward—a unity of defense and attack, the ultimate Cotton Palm technique, with a resounding name in the fighting world: “Blade Returns to the Sheath.”

No matter your tricks, I return the blade to its sheath.

What a pity, Kou Li sighed in the moment of death, a single thought flashing through his mind: this punch, after all, did not bear the spirit of the dragon.