The wind and snow raged as before.
Narrowing his eyes, Tan Fei's jaw tightened, the muscles along his cheeks knotting taut at some point. His gaze swept slowly across the curtain of snow, taking in the two corpses still radiating faint warmth in the drifts, before tracing the crimson smear along the wall back to the youth walking steadily toward him.
The youth was watching him in turn.
As their eyes met, Lian Youming hoisted the motionless Eagle Claw disciple in his grip a little higher, bringing him up before Tan Fei as if to let him have a clearer look.
The first two had died swiftly, but this one's end was agonizing.
Blood still dripped from the stumps of his severed arms. Half the skin and flesh of his face had been ground away against the brick wall, exposing mangled, bloody bone beneath.
No, the man was not dead yet—his solitary eye stared wide, and his breath drifted from his nose and mouth faint as thread.
Right before Tan Fei's eyes, Lian Youming tightened the web between his thumb and index finger around the disciple's throat. With a slight twist of his wrist, he snuffed out the remaining spark of life and tossed the body to the ground.
"Hoo."
From beginning to end, all of this had taken barely a dozen breaths.
Even Lian Youming could not help exhaling a deep breath of turbid air. His breath was scalding, turning into a plume of white mist in the frozen air before the wind tore it apart. Yet this was by no means a pent-up breath born of discomfort or dread; on the contrary, he felt thoroughly exhilarated, as though the fury pent up inside his chest had finally found release.
Yet it was not enough. One man still stood before him.
"Heh... Perhaps these disciples of yours spent all their time scheming after ill-gotten gains and let their martial arts rust. So you see... this is what they call retribution." A savage glint of satisfaction flashed across Lian Youming's face. "I am your retribution!"
"He broke through the three gates in just a few breaths' time..."
Among the onlookers, someone finally could hold it in no longer, recovering from their shock and terror.
"Didn't they say the kid practices tai chi? This fighting style is brutally vicious!"
Sharp intakes of cold air hissed through the crowd.
Exclamations of astonishment rose one after another.
"Tsk, tsk. Every move lethal, ruthless and clean."
"And that Toad Fishing Skill and Taiji Cloud Hands—though his mastery hasn't reached full maturity, his application is flawless."
"Incredible. With no sect or lineage behind him, to reach this level is truly remarkable."
"Martial Uncle, isn't that your Black Dragon Overturning Heaven? How could it be so vicious?"
The Baji Sect group was buzzing with chatter as well.
Sweat broke out at the peasant uncle's temples. He was not terrified by the gore, but a lingering dread gnawed at him. "Thank heavens I listened to Master and stood guard all night. If we'd really let this kid slip through, he might have slaughtered the entire Eagle Claw Sect... What a terror. If he really pulls something like that down the road, it won't get pinned on me, will it? Why the hell did I have to run my mouth and give him advice?"
Meanwhile, the disciples of the Eagle Claw Sect and their assorted associates looked on with eyes nearly splitting with rage and horror.
Only one person reacted differently from everyone else.
Xie Ruomei.
Wearing Lian Youming's hat and bundled in his coat, the young girl clenched her fists tightly, her eyes filled with nothing but worry.
Because Lian Youming had already mounted the stone steps, coming to a halt directly before Tan Fei.
No emotion showed on Tan Fei's face. He slowly took off his fox-fur cap and spoke in a steady, measured whisper, "Boy, did you think a few words and killing a few of my disciples would disturb my mind or make me regret? From the moment I committed my first misdeed, I foresaw the day of my downfall. I know I am not a good man, and I will never repent for the wrongs I've done. Nor do I fear my own death—but the one who defeats me will never be you."
He spoke very softly, so softly that Lian Youming was practically the only one who could hear him.
"As for those three, since they enjoyed the benefits of that dirty money, they should have been prepared to be beaten to death. They did every wicked deed under the sun, yet their minds were set only on idle pleasure without striving to better themselves. If they don't die, who should?"
Standing on the stone steps, Lian Youming replied impassively, "Who asked for your repentance? At most, I just want to beat you to death."
"Gutsy," Tan Fei muttered, nodding.
Suddenly, he moved.
With a flick of his wrist, the fox-fur cap shot like an arrow straight toward Lian Youming's eyes.
Lian Youming's pupils constricted sharply. In his sight, right behind the flying hat came a black cloud, billowing upward with a sudden whoosh, reversing the swirl of the driving blizzard.
It was the mink cloak from Tan Fei's shoulders.
The cloak was vast and sweeping, reaching nearly to the backs of his calves.
Now whipped up by Tan Fei's hands, it was like an immense net descending overhead, dimming even the pale daylight in an instant.
Lian Youming lost his line of sight. From the wind and snow came a shrill, eerie cackle: "Heh heh..."
The next second, a large hand thrust out from behind the cloak.
Sensing terrifying murderous intent pressing from every direction, Lian Youming narrowed his eyes and gathered his focus. Loosely clenching his right fist, he threw a crushing punch.
Yet the hand behind the cloak shifted with uncanny speed. The moment the fist shadow arrived, the hand snapped back; before Lian Youming could react, another hand thrust out from the left.
Lian Youming's eyelid twitched. He raised his fist to intercept, but before his force landed, the hand withdrew once more.
The hands darted left and right, rising and dipping, appearing and vanishing ghostlike behind the cloak in endless permutations.
Nor was it merely fists; beneath the cloak, leg strikes flashed out—kicking toward the groin and sweeping toward the knees with lightning speed.
Parrying in haste, Lian Youming tried to grapple several times, but the opponent slipped his grip effortlessly, slippery as an eel.
Within seconds of clashing, he felt enveloped in a vortex of lethal strikes, the billowing cloak churning up a boundless wave of killing intent.
"Heh heh, get down there!"
The cloak spun wildly in the air. Amid the wind and snow rolling like ocean swells, Tan Fei's chilling, shrill laugh rang out abruptly.
Lian Youming's expression turned grim. Seeing a pair of bare palms shoving straight forward from behind the cloak, he spread both hands, shifting into Cotton Palm to intercept. Yet Tan Fei gave a violent jolt of his arms, breaking free of the silk-reeling force in an instant. With a rapid recoil and thrust, his palms slammed heavily against Lian Youming's chest.
The concussive force struck home, stalling Lian Youming's inner breath. Right after, darkness flooded his vision as the cloak billowed and snapped again, whipping snow into his eyes. A whip-like kick smashed squarely into his chest.
Crack!
As the draft of the kick sliced past, even the snowflakes and frost seemed to turn into meat-carving blades.
Caught off guard, Lian Youming felt a sharp spike of pain in his chest, and his body was sent flying backward.
Yet the instincts honed through grueling days forced an immediate reaction: the instant his feet left the ground, he twisted his waist in midair, regained his center of gravity, and flipped down, landing back on the short street.
Planting his feet, Lian Youming retreated in rapid steps.
"Ha!"
Tan Fei gave him no room to catch his breath. Coiling and snapping his legs, he kicked off the stone lion to borrow momentum, launching himself forward in a soaring leap.
From the crowd watching on the sidelines, someone called out urgently, "Clear the field!"
Instantly, several agile martial disciples vaulted down from the low walls on either side, quickly dragging away the three corpses before hastily retreating.
The entire short street was cleared completely for Lian Youming and Tan Fei.
Amid the swirling white snow, Lian Youming shifted and dodged from side to side. Yet Tan Fei's footwork was far nimbler; staying low, he employed the Ditangquan style, unleashing continuous low sweeping kicks while twisting his waist and snapping his arms. The cloak swirled with a loud rustle, kicking up great swathes of snow from the short street.
Tan Fei seemed to vanish entirely within the churning blizzard.
"Damn it, where did Tan come up with this technique? It looks like the southern 'legs under the skirt' and 'hands within sleeves,' blended with styles from various sects. Using the cloak to conceal his strikes, combined with this weather, he's like a fish in water!"
The peasant uncle watched with mounting dread, anxiety gnawing at his gut.
Just then, Lian Youming bent his knees and dropped into a low crouch before springing into the air. Catching the crest of the wall with both hands like an ape hanging from a branch, he looked back at Tan Fei, bared his teeth in a savage grin, and hooked a taunting finger.
"Courting death!"
Tan Fei sneered coldly. Crouching into rapid strides, he ran along the wall with swift kicks, his Eagle Claws lunging and raking toward Lian Youming's ribs and lower back.
Lian Youming was equally unhinged. Hanging by one arm, he struck and swiped wildly with the other, kicking and stomping with both feet.
Yet a veteran of the martial world was a veteran after all.
In just a few exchanges, Lian Youming's shirt was shredded with several bloody gashes from the Eagle Claws, wounds opening across his flesh.
Just as Tan Fei moved in to press his advantage, something suddenly slipped from Lian Youming's trouser pocket.
Lian Youming noticed it too—what had fallen was a small medallion.
Whether it was an illusion or not, the moment the medallion appeared, Tan Fei's pupils contracted violently—
"Zhan Ganchu?"
Chapter 79