Severance

With the arrival of the Operations Committee's reinforcements, the density of firepower from the tall buildings on both flanks slackened considerably. The mercenaries weaving through the center picked up speed, steadily drawing closer to the fissure. Fang Zhixin was pinned down by Yu Lie and had no way to step forward and stop them. If things continued at this rate, these mercenaries would be able to enter the fissure, recover and destroy the split sub-body, thereby depriving the fissure of its stabilizing anchor. All of this, however, was premised on no one else intervening. Old Hu stared coldly at Chen Bitong before him, waiting for his response. Even if the latter held back and did nothing, so long as the split sub-body was retrieved, he had more than enough patience to grind him down. Yet he knew Chen Bitong; given his temperament, he would never wait until then, but would respond swiftly and decisively. Thus, while Old Hu appeared relaxed on the surface, he was on high alert, prepared at any moment to counter Chen Bitong's strike. At this moment, Chen Bitong did not look at him, but glanced toward the distance instead. Chen Chuan stood by the window watching. He could sense that the direction of this glance was aimed right at where he was—or more precisely, at the building where the three of them were stationed. He knew they had arrived. It was no surprise. For someone whose spiritual power had reached consummation, it was impossible not to notice being watched for so long. In particular, Yang Shen and Nie Guanshan made no attempt to conceal their scrutiny, seeming even to want to use it to heap pressure upon him. Chen Bitong drew his gaze back and locked eyes with Old Hu again. Old Hu seemed impassive, but every nerve in his body was pulled taut. Chen Bitong walked toward Old Hu. His movements appeared slow, yet after a single step, his figure flickered and appeared farther ahead. Then another step, advancing another stretch of distance. Yet these movements followed no regular pattern; as he took his strides, he might even shift backward at times, or appear in an entirely different direction at others. He was using the fissure to shift and reposition himself, seemingly capable of appearing in any position at any moment. Old Hu remained motionless where he stood. His chilling eyes appeared somewhat distant, for he was no longer relying on pure sensory perception to judge, but using his spirit to capture his opponent's movements. At one point, Chen Bitong's figure appeared less than three meters in front of him. For people of their caliber, this was practically face-to-face, yet he remained unfazed, continuing to wait for something. After several more breaths, he suddenly sensed something. His gaze snapped into focus, and he swung a palm toward one side. With a loud crack, Chen Bitong's figure materialized there. Boom! Unlike before, two streams of jin collided, and the point where the two made contact detonated like an artillery shell, sending billows of dust surging outward. Then Old Hu felt that aside from the initial clash of jin, the jin he unleashed immediately afterward struck entirely empty air. And before the figure of Chen Bitong at his side had even faded, a second Chen Bitong appeared on the other side, thrusting a palm toward him. He had long been prepared. Keeping his torso still, his left hand threaded beneath his right, and both palms swiftly rammed together, producing another thunderous boom. While the Chen Bitongs on both flanks were still present, a third Chen Bitong appeared behind him, pressing a hand toward the back of his head. This was because his speed in traversing and shifting through the fissure was simply too fast; though his actual person had already departed, the afterimage and a trace of spiritual power from that instant remained behind in place. Furthermore, amid this rapid movement, his spiritual presence became ubiquitous, creating a confounding effect on Old Hu's perception. At this moment, Old Hu's hands were still engaged with the two figures, seemingly leaving him defenseless against the assault from behind. Yet he merely tilted his head, and the stiff, rigid hair down his back whipped around, carrying a ferocious jin that collided with Chen Bitong's strike. That figure faintly showed signs of dispersing. Right at that moment, in the spot where Old Hu had exchanged the first palm strike with Chen Bitong, the figure there suddenly condensed from ethereal to solid in an instant, and a powerful jin surged forth from within. He sneered inwardly: *Here it comes, just as expected!* He had unleashed his jin three times in succession, exerting full strength each time. Normally, even if he wanted to muster another fierce, abundant burst of jin, he would be powerless to do so. Thus, even if Chen Bitong couldn't finish him off with this strike, the clash would allow Chen Bitong to safely retreat and look for another opening. However, Old Hu had made thorough preparations for this day. From the start, he had ingested a medicine specially prepared for him by the Operations Committee. Now, he abruptly stimulated its potency. In this instant, both the mutated tissue in his body and his spiritual aura surged to their absolute peak, and aiming right at Chen Bitong's position, he unleashed a blast of Severing Jin with all his might! Under this impact, right where their hands met, Chen Bitong's arm began to fracture joint by joint, spreading all the way toward his shoulder, the splintering bones and mangled flesh clearly visible. If the jin traveled through unobstructed, it would blast his shoulder and half his torso to pieces in one go, settling the battle without a doubt. Yet at that precise moment, Old Hu suddenly felt the resistance ahead go hollow. The opposing jin existed only at the very forefront, lacking entirely the fullness he had anticipated behind it. His pupils constricted. At that moment, to his right, the second figure of Chen Bitong suddenly solidified, as if a torrential jin was about to erupt from there. Yet at the same time, a threat faintly loomed from behind him as well. Where is the real one? With spiritual power distributed in multiple locations, in his haste he had no way of discerning where the real attack would come from. Yet out of his familiarity with Chen Bitong, the fatal strike was most likely to come from his back, where he could not turn in time—his weakest point. Even if the blow failed to break through, Chen Bitong would lose nothing. Thus, Old Hu shifted all his remaining jin into the hair behind him. Unexpectedly, the true attack came from the exact spot where Chen Bitong's arm had just been shattered, the very position of the first strike against him. Only now did he realize with a shock that Chen Bitong had actually remained right there ever since his arm broke, never having moved at all. Whether from the right or from behind, those attacks were merely spiritual misdirections. The incoming jin there was only superficial, crumbling almost on contact; in fact, even if he ignored them completely, they would have caused him no harm. But by the time he realized this, it was already too late. All his jin had been diverted elsewhere. He could only watch helplessly as Chen Bitong raised his intact hand and slammed a fist into his shoulder blade. At the same time, a surging, resilient jin poured inside, rushing into every part of his body with unstoppable force. A rapid series of sharp cracks and pops of shattering bones and dislocating joints erupted all over his body. String-Void Jin was a jin with exceptional penetration and invasive power. It did not emphasize killing in a single blow, but possessed immense destructiveness; in an instant, a struck victim's mutated tissue, bones, and internal organs would suffer tremendous impact and ruin, rendering them completely incapable of exerting cohesive jin ever again. Thus, after this single strike, Old Hu had in fact lost all combat capability. Old Hu knew that with one misstep, he had lost the initiative and had no chances left. Staring at Chen Bitong, he asked, "This level of spiritual power... Could you have...?" Chen Bitong seemed to know what he wanted to ask, and said in a low voice, "Just a little short. But not far..." As he spoke these words, his figure grew hazy—evidently, it was merely an afterimage left in place. Old Hu's eyes turned blood-red. In the next moment, a violent explosion tore out from inside his body, sending billows of dense smoke surging a hundred meters high as a furious shockwave blasted outward. Dozens of meters away, Chen Bitong stood watching the scene. He knew Old Hu well, knowing he would rather commit suicide than die by his hand, and was entirely capable of implanting high explosives into his own body. That final question had almost certainly been meant to dupe him into lingering, so he had departed a step ahead. At that moment, a black speck fell from the sky, hitting the ground not far ahead with a clatter and bouncing several times before coming to a stop. It was the half-face mask Old Hu had worn, now warped, deformed, and battered beyond recognition. Chen Bitong cast a silent glance at it, then looked at his dangling left arm. From forearm to shoulder, it was fractured in at least seven or eight places, a gory mess of splintered bone and mangled flesh, kept from detaching entirely only by a few strands of muscle and sinew. Chen Bitong used his other hand to set and align the broken limb, channeling vital essence from his heart. In just moments, the bones slowly knit and closed, the flesh and blood reconnecting. Before long, hardly any outward abnormality remained visible on the surface. Watching this from behind, Yu Lie felt his heart sink. With Old Hu dead, what was the point of holding out? He immediately leaped backward, and Fang Zhixin did not pursue. Chen Bitong said, "Leave." Yu Lie bared his teeth in a wry grin and replied, "I'm not leaving. I may be no match for you, Teacher Chen, but I believe I can hold off those cavalrymen of the former imperial house. I'll stay and hold them back, but I won't take part in any further actions against you." Chen Bitong said nothing more, seemingly giving his tacit consent. With Old Hu dead, the mercenaries completely lost their will to fight. Without waiting for orders, they abandoned their objectives and fled in disarray from the square. At this moment, someone contacted Mr. Chu at the rear, saying in panic, "Mr. Chu, Mr. Hu is dead." Not a ripple of emotion showed on Mr. Chu's face. Standing inside the observation post with half his face cast in the shadows falling from above, he said in a dark tone, "Useless trash." On that tall building in the distance, Chen Chuan and the other two had watched the entire process. Spitting out what must have been his umpteenth cigarette, Yang Shen rolled his neck, his joints cracking several times. "It's over," he said. "The Temporary Special Committee couldn't get it done, so now it's our turn to move in."