Furnace

Tan Wang weaved and dodged continuously through the incoming flashes of blade light. He discovered that Chen Chuan's saber strikes possessed both power and speed, yet lacked somewhat in technique. This allowed him, to a certain extent, to rely on his own experience to circle and evade rather than clashing head-on. Only when he truly had no way to evade would he choose to meet the blows with his limbs or torso. Under the working of jin, the writhing of his muscles and the scales attached to them dissipated the force behind the blade to its bare minimum. As both moved at blinding speed, the clash and parry of attacks rang out almost without pause, continually tearing ragged gap after gap through the massive curtain of rain. At times, before the spray of rain blasted apart in one direction had even fallen back down, another circle detonated on the opposite side. Between the two, one could see trails of displacement forced open through the storm, surging one after another. Thunder rolled across the heavens and lightning leapt ceaselessly. One moment it illuminated the figures of the two men, and the next they vanished once more, leaving only muddy water and blades of grass blasting apart in unison across the ground. After this high-intensity clash continued for over a dozen minutes, Tan Wang began to feel the strain. He had to exert jin continuously to counter the saber, which demanded total concentration without the slightest lapse—an immense burden and test on his stamina and mental energy. For now, with the fight still relatively brief, he could manage. But if this dragged on, the decline in his stamina would inevitably make it impossible to sustain, and errors would become unavoidable. Inwardly, he could not help cursing his miscalculation. He had left before completing his gland implant surgery this time; otherwise, he could have secreted a type of oil across the surface of his scales, effectively deflecting cuts, stabs, and slashes from all manner of edged weapons, and even gunfire. Moreover, had he completed the venom gland surgery in his upper palate beforehand, he would only have needed to seize the right moment in combat to spew a cloud of toxic mist and finish his opponent. Why would he have needed to go through all this trouble? Yet Chen Chuan's saber strikes were terrifyingly steady. They were like this from the beginning, and they remained so even now, never changing in the slightest from start to finish—as if he could go on slashing like this forever. He was beginning to doubt his own judgment. What kind of drug could last this long? Or could it be... that this was his own true strength? No, that was impossible. What he failed to notice was that when anxiety and doubt began to creep in, it was usually the first harbinger of flagging concentration and declining physical strength. Chen Chuan watched the enemy before him with focused intent. It had only been ten-odd minutes. Previously, when diving in the deep hole, he had endured the boundless darkness and suffocating environment for over an hour at a time; this was nothing to him. That crash training had drastically boosted his ability to withstand pressure. The combat before him could not shake his will by even a fraction. Even after clashing for another ten-odd minutes, Tan Wang felt something was wrong. His body seemed unable to keep up with his reactions at times; though he compensated through experience, he could still tell a problem had surfaced. He knew this was likely due to the implants. Implants often caused a drop in combat capability due to incompatibility with the host. Originally, the Secret Snake Cult had its own specialized implant doctors and cultivation chambers, providing each person with implants tailored specifically to them. However, nearly all of his original implants had been destroyed by He Xiaoxing, with his offensive limbs sustaining particularly severe damage. This had forced him to get a replacement set. And to boost his combat strength, he had opted for an upgraded version this time. But due to compatibility adjustments, that set was still being cultivated, so he had merely settled for a universal set as a temporary makeshift. Using universal implants for a short duration naturally posed no problem, but over a prolonged clash like this, a sluggish friction began to set in. Perhaps taking medicine right now could temporarily overcome it, but not only did he not have any medicine on him, the current situation would never allow him the chance to do so anyway. With both sides locked in ferocious combat, they were acutely sensitive to every subtle movement. The moment Tan Wang's issue arose, Chen Chuan immediately sensed the change. He noticed that Tan Wang's rhythm had fallen into slight disarray, no longer possessing that initial stability. This undoubtedly signaled one thing: His opponent's condition was declining! At the same time, he realized that if even he had noticed, Tan Wang had no reason not to know. The man would certainly seek a way to recover or break the deadlock. The change might come later, or perhaps in the very next instant. He could not help heightening his focus. Tan Wang, however, did not make an immediate change. With his wealth of combat experience, he handled the attacks patiently, intending to stall a bit longer to see if his opponent might grow impatient and reveal a flaw. Yet facing an opponent who showed virtually no sign of impatience or recklessness, he waited in vain for an opening, leaving him with no choice but to take the initiative to shift tactics. His arm parried another slash of the blade. Previously, he would use the writhing of his muscles and the hardness of the scales to deflect the momentum of the saber, but this time brought a new change. The moment his arm made contact with the blade, blue veins squirmed across his flesh, and the skin abruptly split open. Out shot snake-whip-like appendages, coiling around the blade one after another and binding it tightly. Seeing this, Chen Chuan's expression hardened. Yet he did not try to wrestle for the weapon; instead, he released the hilt, stepped forward, and instantly crowded into the inner circle, unleashing a fierce flurry of strikes at Tan Wang. The latter met them with only one hand, simply enduring the strikes on his body with brute resilience. Though Chen Chuan's strength was impressive—even slightly exceeding his own—Tan Wang possessed high-tenacity mutated sinew and muscle that could easily disperse the impact of such punches and kicks, posing little real threat to him. Above all, as long as he kept the saber locked down, the fight would become far easier. Seeing that several strikes had yielded little effect, Chen Chuan immediately altered his offensive. After a punch aimed at the face was parried, his fist shifted into an open palm, gripping Tan Wang's wrist and wrenching it back. Feeling a surge of jin seeping inward, Tan Wang tensed and twisted his muscles at once, snapping Chen Chuan's fingers free. Right then, Chen Chuan's left hand dropped and seized the midpoint of the blade with a sharp clap. As he pivoted his waist to yank the saber free, his right palm opened and thrust straight for Tan Wang's face. Tan Wang felt the bound blade being pulled loose. Naturally unwilling to let go, his center of gravity pitched forward as he struggled against the pull, only to see that palm rushing toward him with blistering speed, almost brushing against his face. His serpentine pupils contracted as if sensing danger. In that split second, he jerked his head back. The muscles of his neck writhed, lengthening out of nowhere by a whole section, and his head folded nearly flush against his back, dodging the blow. Immediately following up, he raised an arm and parried Chen Chuan's palm aside. Had anyone been standing behind him, they would have seen a smirk spread across his tilted-back face. He was no longer in any hurry. The moment Chen Chuan's offensive subsided, he would immediately unleash the Secret Snake Cult's Secret Snake Grappling Technique, utilizing his hyper-flexible limbs and partially modified joints to grapple his opponent. Once he caught Chen Chuan in his grip, unless Chen Chuan's strength far exceeded his own, the boy would be squeezed to death. Chen Chuan also sensed that this close-quarters grappling worked entirely against him, as he lacked sufficient lethal threat against Tan Wang barehanded. If Tan Wang weathered these few pressed attacks, he would inevitably counter with his seasoned close-combat lethality, forcing Chen Chuan onto the back foot and stripping him of control over the battle's tempo. Rather than stubbornly ramming ahead, Chen Chuan adapted at once. He drove his knee up and kicked out; when Tan Wang blocked it, Chen Chuan borrowed the recoil to spring backward. Crouching slightly, his hands shot down to grip the saber's hilt together. As his feet shifted and his waist snapped around, he heaved upward in a violent, upward fling. Driven layer by layer through the mutated tissue throughout his body, the force behind this motion was so immense that the muddy ground beneath his feet sank inward. Tan Wang felt an overwhelming wave of strength surge through. His expression shifted slightly. If he refused to release the blade, he would very likely be hoisted entirely off his feet; even if he managed to anchor himself, the clash would almost certainly tear the universal snake appendages apart. Realizing he could not hold the blade, he gave up cleanly and released the snake limbs. Pivoting on the spot, his body coiled like a serpent before darting forward, lunging right into Chen Chuan's space with arms spread wide, aiming to wrap around his waist and legs. With Chen Chuan's arms hoisted upward and his front wide open, he had no time to defend. As long as Tan Wang locked him in an embrace, he would achieve his original goal all the same. Unexpectedly, Chen Chuan still had strength to spare. He took a timely step back, snapped his wrists back, and sank his stance, thrusting the long, narrow pommel downward. Tan Wang's eyes narrowed and he had no choice but to dodge sideways. Chen Chuan's waist rotated, driving his arms as his wrists turned once more, sweeping the blade in a horizontal slash tracking Tan Wang's evasive route. Tan Wang was forced into a lateral roll to dodge the blow. Chen Chuan swept the long saber outward with one hand to drive Tan Wang back. Slowly, he drew the blade back, gripping it steadily with both hands, the tip pointing at his foe from afar. Tan Wang's expression soured. The fight had returned to its previous rhythm. In that case, he had no choice but to resort to the method he had been reluctant to use. By stimulating his mutated tissue through specific breathing methods, he could temporarily boost his combat power. Yet while his own body could endure it, the universal implants might not. Even if he refrained, the implants might not hold out much longer anyway. Besides, he believed he had already gauged the limits of Chen Chuan's ability; a slight increase in combat power would suffice to end the fight. Spreading both hands, he abruptly released the valve holding his inner breath. Chen Chuan suddenly saw Tan Wang's back and chest heaving with accelerating rapidity, his eyes becoming bloodshot. He instantly realized that his foe was likely stimulating his mutated tissue. This was probably his opponent's final trump card. In that case, it was about time. Drawing a long breath, Chen Chuan engaged the Furnace Breathing Technique. In an instant, under the combined action of internal and external breathing, all the energy accumulated over the past month was released from his mutated tissue, surging into his four limbs and hundred bones. His body instantly grew scorching hot. Vast plumes of white steam billowed off him, mingling with the rain, spiraling upward under the howling wind! He sank his center of gravity slightly and burst forward in an explosive rush, bringing with him a flash of blade light that cleaved the rain curtain apart! Tan Wang was struck with horror. Chen Chuan's speed had surged well beyond what it was just moments before, to the point where he could barely follow it. He could only dodge on instinct, trying to open up distance. Yet that blade light pursued him like rolling snow. Forced to raise his arm to block, the very instant the two collided, he suddenly felt a sudden lightness somewhere on his body. His pupils snapped tight, and he threw himself into a frantic retreat. Chen Chuan stood where he was without giving chase, merely flicking his blade. A moment later came a wet thud as an arm dropped out of the air onto the ground. In that strike just now, paired with the Furnace Breathing Technique, he had unleashed the heavy slash saber jin he had never used before. As the jin poured into the Xuejun Saber, the blade vibrated faintly. Tan Wang panted raggedly. His muscles writhed, swiftly sealing the wound, but losing an arm not only severely degraded his combat power—it also threw off his balance. To make matters worse, the implants were growing even more misaligned after that intense flurry of exertion. Lightning ripped through the sky, turning the world as bright as day in an instant. Through blurred vision, he saw Chen Chuan striding toward him with saber in hand, shrouded in swirling white steam, his face no longer clearly distinguishable. Countless raindrops pelted the blade, shattering into minuscule droplets. At this moment, the thought of fleeing involuntarily sprouted in his mind. The next second, that figure vanished from the spot once more. Tan Wang scrambled backward, but his ruined balance and declining stamina made him even slower than before. With a ringing shink, a massive gash tore open across his chest and abdomen. When he hit the ground, he stumbled, hunching over in a crouch as vast quantities of blood and tissue fluid sprayed across the earth. Pushing against the ground, he clutched his belly, struggled to his feet, and stumbled outward in a run. Chen Chuan planted the Xuejun Saber into the ground and strode forward. Reaching out, he grabbed a fistful of Tan Wang's hair and yanked backward, forcing the man's face toward the sky. Raising one clenched fist slowly overhead, he said, "Teacher Tan, remember when you asked me if I was willing to go to Center City with you as a servant..." The raised fist crashed down violently, slamming heavily into Tan Wang's face. Several teeth flew out amid a spray of bloody water. "This is my answer!" Tan Wang chuckled raspy laughter, as though mocking something. Seeing this, Chen Chuan brought his fist down again. One punch after another, he struck without stopping, smashing Tan Wang's facial bones and teeth into complete ruin, until nothing remained but a mangled pulp. Only after Tan Wang completely lost consciousness did Chen Chuan release his grip, letting him collapse into a mire of rain and mud. Standing there, he slowly regulated his breathing. As a wisp of white steam puffed from his lips, his scalding body gradually settled. Looking up at the sky, he felt the rain beginning to slacken. This tempest was finally drawing to a close.