*Thud!*
The corpse hit the ground; Tan Fei was dead.
A crowd of Eagle Claw Sect disciples emerged swiftly from the swirling snow, sinking to their knees around the body, their faces stricken with grief and dejection.
Lian Youming took in the sight, the viciousness and demonic edge in his eyes gradually receding. At this moment, he felt an unprecedented calm—neither the exhilaration of vanquishing a foe nor fear of what lay ahead, but rather an ineffable clarity.
He had not undertaken this journey for victory.
He had come to prove his own heart, to forge his own Dao.
He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the frosted snow.
Walking over to the base of the wall, Lian Youming picked up the medallion. It might still have other uses. According to Tan Fei, those Eight Banners nobles seemed restless, and there were likely more than a few martial masters among them.
"Vermin left over from a dead dynasty—no loss to anyone," he murmured, his face set in a cold, cruel smirk.
It seemed some people hadn't been purged thoroughly enough.
"Then I'll do it."
Tossing his head back, Lian Youming inhaled deeply and exhaled, scalding breath spilling from his nose and mouth like clouds of smoke. His breath rasped heavy as a roar, and his violently heaving chest slowly subsided.
Sensing something, however, he narrowed his eyes and looked at the remaining Eagle Claw Sect disciples and the motley crowd from other sects. Meeting their gazes—some furious and shocked, some resentful, others paralyzed with dread—Lian Youming murmured, "Tired of living?"
Birds of a feather; not a decent soul among them.
Just then, the people from the Baji Sect came forward.
Though taken aback by Lian Youming's vicious, brutal fighting style, their eyes shone with sheer excitement.
Xie Ruomei rushed over as well, looking anxious. She tugged at Lian Youming, looking him up and down repeatedly to check for mortal wounds, then pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the blood trickling from the corner of the youth's mouth.
"Don't get cocky, brat. This fight was just the prelude—the real killers are waiting ahead. When you go for street-breaking, we'll see you then. No rush, it'll come soon enough."
Someone sneered with venomous malice, throwing out threats.
Lian Youming comforted the girl and was about to snap back when the rustic man slung an arm around his shoulders. "Haha, good lad! Badass, wasn't it, that Black Dragon Turns Over move of mine? You used it well! Never mind them for now—let's head back to the Baji Sect first."
As he spoke, he subtly shoved Tan Fei's fur cloak into Lian Youming's arms.
The victor departed; the defeated met his end.
Lian Youming turned and followed the group out into the wind and snow.
Once back at the Baji Sect compound, the old man brought in a brazier of charcoal, simmered a jar of aged wine, and took a wax-sealed pill of aged medicine from his robes, dissolving it in the warm liquor. Finally, he had the rustic man keep watch beside them.
"What is this for?"
Lian Youming was pressed down into a seat by the old man.
The rustic uncle chuckled, rubbing his broad, thick palms together. "Treating your injuries, of course."
Lian Youming smiled. "I'm fine."
The old man rolled his eyes. "Fine, my ass."
As he spoke, he pressed lightly against Lian Youming's ribs.
*Hiss!*
Lian Youming's face went ghastly pale in an instant, his entire body shuddering uncontrollably.
The old man snapped, "You think martial artists fighting to the death is child's play? Tan Fei was a master of hidden force. You took so many of his blows—you look fine on the surface, but hidden force strikes from within, piercing right through flesh, sinew, and bone. Maybe your tough hide keeps you unharmed for now, but once you get older and your qi and blood decline, these will become fatal old wounds and latent ailments."
Having explained, the old man left the room.
Only Lian Youming, Xie Ruomei, and the rustic man remained.
The rustic uncle chimed in, "You've heard of the martial artist's tribulation of cultivation dispersal, haven't you? Old hidden injuries are partly to blame—you can't take them lightly. By the way, the name's Wu Jiu. Haha, I like your style, kid, so let's skip the martial circles' generational titles. You don't have a sect anyway, so call me Uncle Jiu or Brother Jiu, whichever you like."
As Wu Jiu spoke, he eagerly dipped both hands into the yellow wine, rubbed his palms together, and gave an ominous chuckle. His calloused right hand pressed quietly against Lian Youming's back, then dragged down with a fierce, crushing stroke.
"I—*ngh!*" Lian Youming, who hadn't so much as flinched throughout the brutal battle just moments ago, suddenly bulged his eyes and gritted his teeth under that stroke. A violent shudder ripped through him, veins bulging on his temples one after another as if he had been scraped with an iron brush. "Fuck!"
Wu Jiu chuckled, his eyes crinkling. "That's for dragging me into your mess earlier, brat. Bear with it. I'm using internal force to disperse the medicinal potency. If you can't take it, feel free to scream—your Uncle Jiu loves nothing more than hearing bloody shrieks."
Beside them, Xie Ruomei watched with her heart in her throat, continuously wiping cold sweat from Lian Youming's brow.
Looking where Wu Jiu's right hand had just dragged across, several gruesome, dark purplish bruises visibly surfaced upon what had seemed perfectly intact skin.
"These are the internal injuries inflicted by hidden force. Now, spurred by the wine and aged medicine, your qi and blood are activated, drawing them from hidden to visible so they surface on their own. Grit your teeth."
Wu Jiu moved his hands as he spoke, his broad palms pushing and dragging left and right, scraping up and down over Lian Youming's body. Wherever his palms passed, red marks instantly flared on the youth's bronze-like torso, and within those red marks, bruises of varying sizes surfaced one after another.
There were far too many.
At least a dozen or two.
The worst was from Tan Fei's final strike that seized his ribs, where force had penetrated right into the seams between bones. Now stirred by the aged wine, three ink-dark purplish finger-marks immediately surfaced, while the surrounding veins and sinews popped up like a spiderweb.
Lian Youming was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, his face dead white.
"Little Xie, step outside for a bit. I've got to strip this kid's trousers to see if there are any hidden injuries down below. If his vitals took a hit, down the road he might—"
Before Wu Jiu could finish, Lian Youming cut him off through gritted teeth. "No need to strip my trousers. I'll do it myself when I have time."
Xie Ruomei's face flushed bright red, and she ducked her head, hurrying out of the room.
Once the girl was gone, Wu Jiu dropped his playful grin, his gaze turning serious. "Brat, did Tan Fei say anything to you during your fight? I saw you two chatting for a few words."
Lian Youming regulated his breathing gently, contracting his pores to keep his body heat from escaping. Making no attempt to hide anything, he replied evenly, "He said some Eight Banners nobles would come looking for revenge on me."
Wu Jiu said dismissively, "Hmph. A bunch of diehard vermin refusing to give up their wicked ambitions. What era do they think it is, still dreaming of turning the world upside down? Good riddance if they die."
Of course, Wu Jiu did not believe Tan Fei and Lian Youming had only exchanged that single line, but everyone had their secrets. That the youth before him had single-handedly slaughtered Tan Fei and his three disciples spoke volumes in itself.
Besides, Li Da had already vouched for him: the kid's background was clean.
Now that the hidden injuries had surfaced, treating them was straightforward.
Wu Jiu rubbed and kneaded with both palms, smoothing with the web between thumb and forefinger to soothe the qi, blood, and sinews while dissolving those lingering pockets of hidden force.
"Don't get careless. The Eagle Claw Sect may be beaten, but street-breaking means nine rounds of vicious combat. My Baji Sect and three other sects can go easy on you. After your performance today, as long as those three aren't idiots, they won't offend a ruthless monster like you over a dead man. They might even spar lightly to give you face and hand you some fame—my master's already gone to persuade them."
Lian Youming asked, "What about the remaining five?"
Wu Jiu sneered. "The remaining five are cut from the same cloth as the Eagle Claw Sect. They probably don't intend to let you leave Cangzhou alive. So hit them to kill—don't hold back."
"Understood."
***
At the Eagle Claw Sect.
The heavy snow showed no sign of stopping. Inside the courtyard hall, the corpses of Tan Fei and his three disciples were laid out in a row, covered in white cloth.
The atmosphere was somber and heavy. The Eagle Claw Sect disciples knelt before the hall clad in coarse hemp mourning garments.
Besides them, an elder with snow-white beard and brows and two burly middle-aged men sat on large armchairs to one side.
All three wore grim, impassive expressions, not saying a word.
Ever since the sect master of the Eagle Claw Sect mysteriously vanished years ago, the disciples had scattered. Some sought fortunes elsewhere, some joined the White Lotus Sect, and others enlisted in the military.
As for the reputable elders in the sect, they had either moved to far-off lands or passed away from old age. Managed up to this day, the sect had effectively become Tan Fei's one-man show.
Now that Tan Fei was dead, the sect was headless, without even anyone to take charge of the situation.
As for the three seated, none belonged to the Eagle Claw Sect. The white-bearded elder was surnamed Ao, a senior veteran of the Quan Sect, while the remaining two were not only dressed identically but bore a striking resemblance to each other—both were experts of the Yanqing Sect.
"Uncle-Master Ao, Martial Uncles, the bones of my master and junior brothers are not yet cold, and our sect plaque has been shattered. You must uphold justice for our Eagle Claw Sect!"
The old man's expression stiffened. Glancing sideways at the speaker, he said lukewarmly, "That 'Uncle-Master' of yours is going to drag us straight into the fire pit. They signed a life-and-death covenant, and four took on one without winning. Your skills fell short—how are we supposed to step in? What do you think the people from the Baji Sect are waiting for? They're just waiting for us to break the rules. The moment you poke your head out, they'll have an excuse to deal with you. By then, it won't just be that kid we're facing—Li Da himself might jump out."
The two Yanqing Sect experts spoke in unison, "Then our only choice is to make our move during his street-breaking. The kid is bad news, and the grudge is already set. We can never let him leave Cangzhou alive."
As the people in the hall deliberated on their countermeasures, an unexpected footstep crunch sounded softly through the wind and snow outside, followed by a thoroughly contemptuous scoff.
"Heh, you people really are as pathetic as ever."
Hearing this, everyone in the hall glared toward the sound in fury.
"What blind bastard dares to spout shit here? You—"
But when the speaker emerged, every face in the room drained of color.
Amid the swirling snow, a young man with a wooden, impassive expression sauntered inside.
His complexion was as sallow as bronze. Though devoid of emotion, his eyes darted and rolled erratically within their sockets, flicking left and right as though they were the only parts of his entire body capable of moving.
With that movement, his distinct black-and-white pupils radiated vibrancy, malice, ferocity, and a spine-chilling trace of madness.
The young man was tall and lean, his broad shoulders filling out a green-and-teal coat. Standing quietly like an Impermanence soul-reaper, he made everyone's hair stand on end.
"Xue Hen? You actually dare return to Cangzhou?"
The newcomer was none other than Xue Hen.
Drooping his eyelids, Xue Hen said sluggishly without expression, "Get lost, all of you. I only came today for one thing; I'm not in the mood to fight you."
As he spoke, Xue Hen walked over to Tan Fei's corpse. With a flick of his toe, he flipped aside the white cloth. His gaze swept carelessly over the body before coming to rest on its two boots.
Before the watchful eyes of the crowd, Xue Hen slipped off the boots without the slightest hint of disgust. Reaching his hand along the inner lining of the leather boot, he actually pulled out a medallion of peculiar material and a letter.
Xue Hen grabbed the items and turned to leave, as though the roomful of people were mere decorations.
At the sight of the medallion and the letter, the three experts from the Quan and Yanqing Sects could sit still no longer.
"Leave those things behind!"
At their shout, Xue Hen halted in his tracks. Without shifting his shoulders, his neck twisted around bit by bit, staring back at the three like an eagle eyeing prey or a wolf looking back, an overwhelming malice surging off him.
"You want to die?"
Chapter 81