"Beast-driving technique?"
Seeing that mountain cat, Lian Youming’s heart sank instantly.
This was a lynx.
Though it lacked the intimidating presence of large beasts, it was far more troublesome—able to scale walls and rooftops, astonishingly fast and exceptionally fierce, one of the top predators in this part of the Northeast.
"Go!"
Xie Laosan seemed unwilling to waste more effort, deciding on a quick finish. He stood in the snow and pointed a finger toward the boy’s back; the mountain cat beside him leapt into the air, all four paws off the ground, and pounced.
In an instant, Lian Youming felt a chill on the back of his neck, the hairs on the back of his hand standing on end.
The thing was truly fast as lightning—one pounce, one swipe, one claw, and it was already a meter behind Lian Youming. Then came a sharp screech, and it opened its jaws to bite at the boy’s neck.
Lian Youming felt a burst of hot air splash against his skin, and goosebumps rose visibly on the back of his neck. But at this moment, he made a startling move: twisting his upper body, without hesitation, he actually thrust one of his arms forward, sending it straight into the beast’s gaping maw.
At the same time, the instant his left arm was bitten, Lian Youming’s right hand gave a quiet shake, and a glint of cold steel slid from his sleeve, viciously driven into the mountain cat’s chest and belly.
Everything happened in a flash. Lian Youming in front, the lynx behind, with snow and wind filling the sky and flying frost blinding the eyes, Xie Laosan only saw one person and one beast tumbling head over heels down the snow-filled mountain gully, a pool of bright red blood spilling rapidly across the snow, seeping into the woods.
Xie Laosan’s eyes were cold. Watching the blood spread quickly, a cold smile touched his face. But as he smiled, watching the lynx struggling to rise in the snow, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he walked over quickly. Yet when his gaze fell downward, the smile vanished—he saw that the blood was actually flowing from beneath the lynx.
The next second, frost and snow on the ground heaved upward, a cold, sharp gleam suddenly darted out like a poisonous snake, stabbing and hooking, winding toward Xie Laosan’s ankle.
In the white wind and snow, Lian Youming’s eyes flickered, his breath coming in quick gasps, and in his hand he actually held a short dagger.
The dagger had a black body and white blade, triangular in cross-section, with cold light flaring at the tip—it was a trihedral military dagger.
Fast, accurate, ruthless, and fierce.
"Lethal combat techniques from the military?"
Xie Laosan’s eyelid twitched. He suddenly felt his ankle turn cold—his cotton trousers had been torn open.
But just as the military dagger was about to pierce flesh and sever the tendon, the man balanced on one foot, his leg shifting with the knee, his fierce footwork flipping back and forth, his left foot now left, now right. Not only did he evade the dagger’s edge, he also tapped Lian Youming’s right wrist.
With a "pa," feeling the sharp pain in his wrist, Lian Youming jerked his right hand back as if shocked by electricity.
Seeing this, Xie Laosan would not show mercy. As one foot landed, the other rose simultaneously, his long leg whipping out like a whip, striking squarely at Lian Youming’s chest.
"Ugh!"
Wind and snow struck his face, frost like knives. Lian Youming grunted, flipped backward, and in a daze felt his five viscera and six bowels seem to have shifted out of place.
His nostril grew warm, and a trickle of hot blood flowed out.
As for the lynx, it lay motionless on the ground—its chest and belly had been pierced by the military dagger, which had torn a ragged hole.
"Good kid, hiding skill beneath clumsiness. You’ve got some tricks after all—I underestimated you."
Glancing at his drafty trousers, then at the boy kneeling on the ground yet still meeting his gaze, Xie Laosan couldn’t help but marvel inwardly.
The boy was only sixteen or seventeen, and already had such scheming, and such skill, and had received the true transmission of the Taiji School. More importantly, he was firm and decisive; once his killing intent stirred, he acted without dragging his feet.
Xie Laosan was certain that if he had had the chance just now, Lian Youming would have unhesitatingly taken his life.
Indeed, a fine seedling.
"Kid, I am one of the thirty-six stewards of the White Lotus Sect, one of the nine great protectors under the Revered One, with one hundred and eight true-transmission disciples of the sect kneeling below me. Follow me, and it will not be a disgrace to you."
Lian Youming wiped the blood from his face. It had been warm just now, but had already turned to ice chips.
Cold.
Bone-piercing cold.
Lian Youming felt his whole face go numb, his hands and feet growing sluggish. Cold air seeped into his collar, even freezing his sweat into ice.
Xie Laosan smiled with narrowed eyes, but his gaze was icy. "This is your last chance. Rest assured, this place is on the border. Once we succeed, we can flee abroad immediately. I guarantee you’ll live free and easy."
Lian Youming spat, glanced at his left arm bitten by the lynx, and said in a light, carefree tone: "You have one last chance too. Get lost now, and I’ll let you go."
"Good kid, with death at your door, you still like to run your mouth."
Xie Laosan smiled cruelly. As he spoke, he prepared to take the boy’s life. But just as he was about to move, he saw Lian Youming’s eyes flicker as he looked over, glancing behind Xie Laosan as if signaling someone.
What was the kid up to?
Someone behind him?
But just as he was distracted, Lian Youming shouted again, "Attack!"
Xie Laosan’s old face tightened. Without thinking, he quickly sidestepped several meters.
Only after protecting his vital points did he narrow his eyes to look.
But behind him, wind blew and snow flew, a vast white emptiness—no sign of any person.
Meanwhile, Lian Youming had scrambled and crawled farther away, and without looking back, he crooked a finger at Xie Laosan.
Xie Laosan took a deep breath. Veins bulged on his forehead, the sinews on his face strained, his mouth flew open, and he shrieked, "Die!"
Feeling the towering killing intent behind him, Lian Youming swallowed back the fishy-sweet taste of blood in his mouth. His eyes remained clear, his face showed no panic. On the contrary, he was calm and composed.
The more dangerous the situation, the more he had to keep his wits. Otherwise, he’d throw himself into disorder—how could there be any chance of victory?
And facing this situation, Lian Youming was not unprepared.
Know this: in this world, killing wasn’t limited to fists and feet, and the ways to defeat someone were countless.
As the eldest son of the family, and the son of a military family—especially under the education of his father, a coarse man who knew nothing but war—Lian Youming could be said to have endured all kinds of hardship.
And learned not a few things.
Though the martial path was mysterious and wondrous, in Lian Youming’s heart he would never deify it.
In the end, it was still flesh and blood. Saber cleaves and sword cuts still drew blood; a shot would still blast a hole.
Lately, he had been running over hill and dale every day, all to deal with Xie Laosan.
The snow grew heavier.
Thick snow almost buried him to the knees.
Lian Youming didn’t care whether the "Toad-Hooking Force" was good or bad. He took a breath, swelled his chest and belly, and struggled against wind and snow toward the bottom of the mountain.
At this moment, he no longer cared what Xie Laosan and the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain were fighting over.
He only knew these men were not good people—not only cruel and vicious, but a great calamity.
Reduced to this point, Lian Youming had no retreat at all. He could only hope the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain would win this battle, save him, and save the people on the forest farm.
And what he had to do now was to share the Old Man’s pressure—kill if he could, delay if he could, use every possible means to buy the other side a chance to win.
However, Lian Youming fled quickly, but Xie Laosan pursued even more urgently. The man now had a determination to kill, holding nothing back. He raised his arms and leapt into the air, like a great eagle swooping for prey, his hands turning into claws in an eagle-catching posture, rising in a long cry and diving straight down.
Fast, unbelievably fast.
Closer, closer.
Then Xie Laosan fell into a hole.
Beneath the white snow, a pit of indeterminate depth collapsed under his foot, and he dropped in.
Xie Laosan’s breath stopped. He spread his legs, braced both feet against the edges of the pit, and stared at the sharpened wooden spikes at the bottom, his old eyes nearly popping out.
There was more than one trap on this mountain.
Xie Laosan suddenly realized: Lian Youming had been wandering over hill and dale these days—had he been setting these traps?
Watching Lian Youming’s fleeing back, Xie Laosan’s heart trembled for no reason. He looked at the white expanse of sky and earth, at the thick snow, and actually felt a long-missed killing intent.
Such weather, such environment—who knew what was buried in the snow? Added to Lian Youming’s endless tricks and cunning, there might truly be something deadly waiting for him.
Lian Youming suddenly stopped, gasping for breath, then grinned widely, as if silently mocking.
But the boy was still laughing, waiting for Xie Laosan to hunt him down.
Xie Laosan drew his breath and leapt, emerging from the pit more than a meter deep in a moment.
Now Xie Laosan’s eyes held a hint of wariness, and he squarely faced Lian Youming, who on one side was gritting his teeth from chest pain and on the other side was grinning weirdly.
No words spoken.
Xie Laosan stepped out, this time following Lian Youming’s footprints to catch up.
But just as if he had long guessed the man would do this, while Lian Youming turned to keep fleeing, he also didn’t forget to deliberately confuse Xie Laosan—his steps were strange, and the spacing between his two feet alternated long and short.
Xie Laosan followed behind, unable for a moment to tell which foot had landed solidly and which had stepped on empty air. In his wary hesitation, the two strangely maintained a certain distance.
But this situation did not last long.
Lian Youming grew more tired the more he ran, colder the more he ran. The warmth beneath his overcoat and sweater kept slipping away, as if congealing into ice. Even his cotton shoes grew cold, the cold seeping in, as if frozen into two lumps of iron.
And in the course of pursuit and flight, the now-calmed Xie Laosan, without any surprise, successively broke through eleven traps. There were lassos, pits, spikes, and large nets woven from dried vines.
Xie Laosan truly hadn’t expected Lian Youming to have this hidden trick—he had almost fallen for it. At the same time, he noticed the boy’s steps growing sluggish, but he didn’t hurry to chase; he simply followed.
After being toyed with and humiliated several times, Xie Laosan truly hated this backside that kept swaying before his eyes. Especially now, his hatred for Lian Youming was even stronger than his hatred for the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain.
A thing like an ant.
Sure enough, Lian Youming gradually slowed his steps, and finally stopped altogether, refusing to go on.
"Come on, chase me then!"
Lian Youming’s face was bloodless, his lips pale. The fine hair on his face, the messy hair on his forehead, and his eyebrows and eyelashes were all coated with ice chips.
Xie Laosan’s head was also covered in frost, but with each breath he exhaled clouds of hot air.
"Rest assured, I won’t kill you. I’ll cut out your tongue first, then sever your hand and foot tendons, and leave you lying here."
Lian Youming forced out a smile uglier than crying. "Say, is it too late for me to follow you now?"
Xie Laosan would not be fooled again and had run out of patience. He pressed forward step by step, smiling grimly. "Die!"
But just as the man walked up to Lian Youming, with only half a step between them, a lasso suddenly shot out from the snow and snared his right foot.
Another trap.
But Xie Laosan seemed to have had enough, to have been humiliated enough. His face twisted hideously. His right hand reached out and seized the fist Lian Youming was swinging at him.
The boy’s face was full of savagery, like a cornered wolf pup. Even with his wrist caught, he couldn’t hide the killing intent in his eyes.
"I know you’re trying to save those people on the forest farm. Hmph, a thing like an ant dares to contend with me." Xie Laosan’s brows and eyes were gloomy, filled with both hatred and glee. He quietly exerted force through his fingers, and Lian Youming’s wrist emitted the sound of cracking bone. "In a little while I’ll slaughter them all, to vent the hatred in my heart."
But just then, at this critical moment of life and death, Lian Youming’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if finding new life in a desperate situation. He looked straight at Xie Laosan’s back.
Xie Laosan had been fooled once already; he wouldn’t fall for it again. Mockingly, he said, "Heh, playing ghosts and tricks. You think the same trick will work on me..."
But he hadn’t finished speaking when, in the swirling, agitated frost and snow, a slight figure leapt through the forest like a hare and a falcon, striking out with a fist like a hammer—dead on target, straight into Xie Laosan’s back.
Xie Laosan had actually sensed it, but he had lost the initiative and couldn’t react in time. In a hurry, he drew in a breath, and his great coat suddenly billowed, as if stuffed with cotton, trying to dissipate the force behind him.
"Ugh!"
Only a pained grunt was heard. Xie Laosan gritted his teeth and turned to look.
"Yang Shuang!"
The newcomer was covered in blood, evidently having gone through a fierce battle. It was none other than that Shuang’er.
But what made Xie Laosan even more terrified was this: he suddenly realized that Lian Youming’s right hand—the wrist he was gripping—was at that moment twisting and breaking free. As the wrist turned, it generated a spiral-like strange force, weak as drawing silk, pitifully faint, yet quite effective.
"Coiling Silk Hand!"
And at the instant Lian Youming broke free from the grip, a military dagger viciously stabbed into Xie Laosan’s chest, twisting and churning.
Xie Laosan turned back again. Before him were the boy’s eyes, trembling wildly, as if showing the helplessness of killing for the first time, yet revealing an indescribable resoluteness.
But all this settled into calm within a moment, with a hint of slyness after succeeding.
Xie Laosan’s eyes were bloodshot, as if blood could seep out. He lifted his leg and kicked. Shocked and furious, he even snapped the lasso.
"Get lost!"
This cry was both a roar and a shriek.
Lian Youming was struck by the kick and seized the opportunity to draw out the military dagger.
As the weapon left his body, in just an instant, a thick, surging arrow of hot blood spurted out, splashing onto the boy’s face, which was like condensed frost and ice. Blood filled his eyes.
Chapter 13