Lian Youming's physique had undergone a tremendous transformation; his sinews and bones grew stouter by the day, and his strength had swelled immensely. Clamping Bai Yuan by the ankle now, it was as if he were swinging a tattered burlap sack. With a single wrap of his arm, a furious, domineering force seized the man and slammed him savagely toward the ground.
Having lost the initiative, Bai Yuan was caught entirely off guard. Before he could even cry out in agony, his entire body was smashed heavily against the dirt, only to bounce back into the air with a dull thud.
As the muffled boom exploded through the woods, he gasped, vomiting a mouthful of blood into the air.
Lian Youming did not let up. Riding the rebound, he swept his arm horizontally, sending the short man crashing sideways waist-first into the trunks of several birch trees.
Crack!
With a sharp snap, Lian Youming suddenly felt a numbness in his wrist—a kick had grazed him. He saw the short man pull in his legs and tuck his head, wrenching himself free of the grip.
Bai Yuan tumbled several meters away and dropped to one knee. His eyes burned with shock and fury as he glared fixedly at Lian Youming, yet a faint glint of dread crept into the depths of his gaze.
Standing beneath the moonlight, Lian Youming was simply too imposing and burly. A single glance made him look almost like a black bear in human form. His oppressive presence was staggering; even Lei Hu back there would come up short in stature alone. Combined with that tremendous strength from just now, he was not a man to be underestimated, even if he possessed no skill in hand-to-hand combat.
Bai Yuan cursed inwardly. He had grown accustomed to living easy recently and never imagined he would fall for such a devilish trick. After roaming the jianghu for so many years, he had actually capsized in a ditch.
Lian Youming rolled the wrist that had been struck, circling with his steps. His expression remained calm, but his eyes were exceptionally focused—so sharp they seemed to gleam.
By his reckoning, this was likely the first time he had ever fought a true martial artist of the jianghu.
"From the Taiji School?" Thinking back to Lian Youming's moves, Bai Yuan's face turned dead serious.
In martial arts, skill had its levels, and fist styles had their ranks; the various sects and schools naturally had their pecking order as well.
In terms of renown alone, the internal martial arts put Taiji, Bagua, and Xingyi foremost.
Not only did they boast profound foundations, but they also had the largest number of disciples. Even unorthodox jianghu experts like him dared not provoke them lightly, lest killing a junior bring out some terrifying old monster.
Lian Youming seemed to read his thoughts and said calmly, "Don't worry. This is all unorthodox dabbling—no sect, no school, just fooling around on my own."
Lately, he practiced night and day, striking poses from the manual even while eating, sleeping, or working. Whether he had built a solid foundation was uncertain, but his physical strength had undeniably grown by leaps and bounds.
"Then you've lived long enough!"
Bai Yuan's eyes widened slightly. Bracing with his arms, both feet kicked against the ground as he leapt. Though he had been five or six meters away, that single pounce carried him within two paces of Lian Youming. His ape-like arms extended and hooked; his right hand darted viciously toward those gleaming eyes.
Lian Youming's eyes flickered. Seeing the man extend his reach to strike from afar, he prepared to parry, but the corner of his eye twitched—he caught sight of Bai Yuan's other hand quietly gathering power, clenching into a fist to coil force.
The moon was veiled and the wind blew hard through the dense woods. As the claw shadows closed in, Lian Youming's vision went dark, mostly obstructed. Behind it, a deadly intent flicked like a viper's tongue straight from his blind spot toward his heart.
Good heavens—blinding with a reaching claw to set up a lethal strike. Was this how martial artists truly fought to the death?
Yan Lingyun had told him before that in internal martial arts, the training methods were one thing, but combat methods were another. Training was static, but combat was alive; while hands and feet clashed, what was truly being tested was each fighter's mind.
Someone might spend years toiling to master a deadly specialty, yet once blows were exchanged, the victor might be decided in just one or two exchanges.
These crucial combat techniques were the closely guarded secrets of martial lineages—the trump cards and lethal finishers tucked away by great masters and old experts, never taught to anyone but true disciples.
Though Lian Youming had obtained several training methods, he was still lacking in combat application, possessing no lethal trump card of his own.
"Heh!"
In a flash, Bai Yuan's sinister move arrived, and a sneer slipped from his lips. This reaching claw could gouge eyes, obscure his opponent's line of sight, or transform halfway into a strike to snatch the throat, while his other hand adapted on the fly to seize or strike, targeting vital points with every variation. Over his many years in the jianghu, countless fighters had perished beneath this very technique.
In a life-or-death battle, there was never any gentle give-and-take.
A chill flared at the nape of Lian Youming's neck; he too seemed to feel that terrifying, bone-clinging intent to kill. But... who was superior was never settled with words. You only knew once you traded blows.
If you cowed before the clash, it wasn't your kung fu that failed—it was your damned backbone.
A man lived by his breath and spirit; his mettle could not falter.
Let the fists reveal the truth!
"Hmph!"
His thick brows rose. Drawing in a breath, he did not yield a single step. He tilted his head aside to evade the oncoming claws, his left elbow snapping upward to strike the crook of the short man's arm, while his other hand quietly marshaled force, meeting the incoming fist dead-on.
Bang!
The two fists collided in midair like a bursting firecracker.
With a sharp rip, the entire sleeve on Lian Youming's right arm shredded open like a morning glory. His bared right arm swelled and bulged, its muscles quivering violently.
As for the short man named Bai Yuan, the sneer had long vanished from his eyes. His feet sank heavily, plowing two shallow ruts through the soil against the force of Lian Youming's fist, his expression an absolute spectacle.
"Brat, you actually had the guts to meet my fist head-on to test my punch."
The fists parted the instant they struck. Lian Youming shook his slightly numb right hand and mocked casually, "Yeah, too bad it wasn't much."
Having witnessed the prowess of Xue Hen and Xie Laosan, this man was undeniably leagues behind.
Even as he spoke, Lian Youming's face turned icy cold. Erupting into violence, he swept both arms wide to wrap around the short man's waist in the most primal, savage manner imaginable.
Since the man's power wasn't lethal, Lian Youming couldn't let the fight remain open. Bai Yuan was nimble, leaping and darting about; the moment distance opened between them, Lian Youming would surely be forced onto the defensive.
Furthermore, this bearhug was a gamble to trade injury for injury and seize the upper hand. Otherwise, fighting an old jianghu hand would only expose more flaws the longer it dragged out. Besides, his own style leaned heavily on defense, so he had to catch him unawares and defeat him with strategy.
"Ah!"
With a ferocious roar, Lian Youming pressed down with overwhelming presence, baleful aura surging as he lunged forward like an old bear hugging a tree.
The short man stood barely past one point six meters tall, skinny and small. His eyes flickered, feeling as though a mountain were toppling toward him. His scalp went numb, and a strange screech escaped his mouth, yet a vicious sneer broke across his face.
Dangerous though the bearhug was, it left Lian Youming completely open—the perfect opportunity to deal a fatal blow.
"Reckless fool, you're courting death!"
Bai Yuan neither dodged nor retreated. Bending his knees slightly, he drove power up from the earth and aimed a heavy punch straight at Lian Youming's chest.
It all unfolded in a heartbeat.
Yet the moment the short man's fist landed, all color drained from his face. As the punch struck home, it produced a bizarre muffled thud—like a quilt-wrapped oxhide drum being struck.
"Hard external conditioning?"
Even as the cry broke from his lips, Bai Yuan reacted with remarkable speed, kicking back to withdraw. But one of his legs had been seized and battered against the ground moments before; not yet fully recovered, he was half a beat too slow.
Lian Youming's expression turned savage and vicious. Marshaling full power in his hands, he ignored the fist at his chest and squeezed his arms tightly. Where his ten fingers dug in, they dragged ten bloody trails across Bai Yuan's shoulders, tearing the man's clothes to ribbons. Then, clamping his arms tight, he drove forward in a frighteningly domineering charge, barreling straight ahead.
Several bowl-thick white birch trees snapped one after another like dry twigs before the onslaught, as he charged headlong toward a jutting boulder.
Bai Yuan coughed up mouthfuls of blood. With his arms pinned and his body suspended in the air, he could not break free. Seeing the boulder rushing up behind him, he went mad with desperation. Opening his mouth, he spat a jet of blood straight into Lian Youming's eyes, then violently threw his arms outward, blue veins bulging across his face as he shrieked hysterically, "Break!"
Blood trickled from the corner of Lian Youming's mouth as well. Mid-stride, he suddenly felt a burst of heat across his eyes, his vision turning a blinding crimson. Shock gripped him, but in that fleeting lapse of concentration, his grasp suddenly went empty.
Bai Yuan had torn free.
Damn it!
Chapter 28