Vacillation

As if a thunderclap had detonated on the spot inside the tunnel, hairline cracks spiderwebbed across the nearby tunnel walls. Fan Mo's roar was another secret art of the Old State Religion, which could be considered a vocal Mind Jin attack. Its activation relied upon a disposable mutated tissue he had cultivated within himself. Once unleashed, it could directly shatter and breach an opponent at close range through sound vibrations, and such attacks could not be repelled purely with weapons. However, this technique was not without cost. Even though specialized mutated tissue was employed, the human body was an interconnected whole; mutated tissue in other areas was inevitably drawn into the reaction. This prevented him from dispelling the exotic Mind Jin that had permeated his body in time. A tearing sensation surged through his frame, sending him staggering back several paces until he was just one step away from slamming into the tunnel wall behind him, completely unable to catch his breath. Chen Chuan had never encountered such a Mind Jin attack before, but his mutated physical conditioning was exceptionally tough. In an instant, he shifted his Mind Jin into external conditioning mode, blocking out the concussive force. Before the echo had even faded, he strode forward, saber in hand. To Fan Mo's eyes, under the concussive force of his vocal attack, Chen Chuan had merely paused for a fraction of a second before continuing as if nothing had happened. His heart thumped erratically. Chen Chuan arrived before him in the blink of an eye. Raising the still-sheathed Xuejun Saber in both hands high above his head, he brought it chopping down at him. Still reeling from the impact of the jin, Fan Mo had no room to dodge and could only hoist his broad saber to parry on the spot. With a resounding clash, his feet sank into the ground and his upper body was driven backward, slamming into the wall behind him with a crash as dust and grit rained down from above. Above him, the saber flashed again. He frantically raised his blade once more, but beneath this blow, he felt the mutated tissue across his body quiver with tingling numbness—a consequence of being forced to neutralize incoming jin before he had fully readjusted and recovered from the previous clash. Yet he had no time to recalibrate, for Chen Chuan's strikes followed in relentless succession, leaving him no choice but to block blow after blow. Soon, however, he realized that every ounce of jin Chen Chuan brought down fell precisely within what he could barely endure. It neither killed him outright nor granted him a single breath to recover, wringing out his strength bit by bit like twisting a damp towel. Previously, Chen Chuan had devoted most of his focus to honing his unarmed jin, and because the Xuejun Saber had been dormant, he had not yet properly harmonized the jin suited for saber work. Thus, he could only temporarily emulate two-stage jin to substitute for saber jin. The hallmark of such jin lay in systematically squeezing and grinding down the opponent until they were stripped of any ability to counterattack. In principle, this approach was sound. A fighter's first priority in combat was ensuring their own survival, followed by the elimination of the foe; hence, it was a highly commendable combat method. To his enemy, however, it was sheer torment. Knowing full well that he would be slowly ground to death yet powerless to resist, Fan Mo could only endure the agony. He knew he was like a fish caught in a net; continuing like this meant certain death. Even if he still possessed a few tricks up his sleeve and could carve out an opportunity or two to counterattack, he still wouldn't be able to defeat Chen Chuan. Realizing this, he ignored the excruciating pain ravaging his body and triggered another burst of power, forcing Chen Chuan's saber slightly aside. But instead of following up with an attack, he abruptly let go of his broad saber, dropped to his knees with a thud, and cried, "I surrender!" He possessed thick eyebrows and large eyes, an appearance radiating righteous uprightness, and had fought with dogged resilience until now. Dropping to his knees like this created a stark, jarring contrast. Chen Chuan, however, showed not the slightest intention of stopping. His raised saber continued chopping downward. Fan Mo's eyes flared blood-red. His supposed surrender had naturally been a ruse to buy an opening, but Chen Chuan hadn't taken the bait in the slightest. Pushing off the ground with his knees, Fan Mo hurled his body diagonally upward, thrusting his forehead straight toward Chen Chuan. There was a method to this kneeling posture, known as the "Ground-Rising Mallet." By utilizing the drop into a kneeling position to store kinetic force before bounding violently upward, the strike was blazingly fast and notoriously difficult to defend against. Moreover, in the traditions of the Old State Religion, kowtowing to immortals and bowing to gods was followed by the obliteration of mortal dust; thus, if what one bowed to was not a god, one was bound to slay it. Hence, the maneuver subtly conformed to a certain ritualistic rite, imbuing him with immense power such that during the execution, his entire body hardened like tempered steel, rendering him virtually immune to any clash of jin for that fleeting instant. Had Chen Chuan hesitated or relaxed for even an instant, Fan Mo would undoubtedly have succeeded. Yet swift as the maneuver was, before he could reach his target, the shadowy silhouette of the saber descended and cracked right onto his forehead. The collision unleashed a ferocious jin that hammered him straight back down, forcing him violently onto his knees once more and smashing two cratered pits into the ground. The residual force along the saber did not diminish in the slightest, continuing to press his forehead downward until it slammed heavily against the floor, leaving him splayed out as though prostrating in a kowtow. Relying on the ritual's power, Fan Mo had not suffered much physical harm and now attempted to gather his strength once more. But before he could push himself up, Chen Chuan raised the saber and brought it crashing down again. With a resounding boom, rubble and rock fragments sprayed outward. This strike not only slammed him back down, but also pulverized the ground around him into a shattered silhouette of his body. Fan Mo felt the jin throughout his body threatening to disperse. Yet he knew that the moment he slackened, defeat and death awaited him. Clenching his fingers into the earth, he marshaled his jin once more, attempting to unleash a counterforce. Yet before he could rise, another fierce, crushing blow sheared down from above. His back sank under the weight; this time he plunged even deeper, practically embedded into the tunnel floor. He let out a strangled roar, desperate to erupt outward at any cost. Yet at that critical juncture, his chest hitched, followed by a searing, tearing pain that tore through his entire body. Chen Chuan's two-stage jin imitated the techniques of the Danliu School, which possessed the property of penetrating deep into the flesh, numbing and destroying mutated tissue. Although Fan Mo had used his weapon to dissipate a portion of the incoming jin earlier, that did not mean his body bore no burden. Every impact of Mind Jin inflicted subtle micro-injuries, and combined with his multiple earlier bursts of power, his mutated tissue was already pushed past its breaking point, preventing him from mobilizing his strength this time. With that failure, the jin coursing through him abruptly drained away. This collapse simultaneously disrupted the ritualistic resonance of his technique. Under the dual backlash of mind and body, the steel-like integrity of his physical frame instantly lost its protective barrier. As another strike hammered down, a thunderous crash resounded. His entire upper body was pounded deep into the pit. His overcoat tore open across his back, and the flesh at the base of his skull split open in a gruesome, ragged gash, dark blood gushing outward. Chen Chuan stood above, his gaze looking down as the sheathed saber rested against the back of Fan Mo's head. Fan Mo turned his head slightly. He was not truly bereft of all options. Hidden inside his loose overcoat was a special powdered explosive; so long as he channeled a pulse of jin into it, it would detonate. Even if the explosion didn't kill Chen Chuan outright, it would bring down the entire tunnel, dragging them both into mutual destruction. Yet just as he was about to trigger it, a flicker of hesitation appeared in his eyes. In that precise instant, the weapon resting against his head drove down without a shred of hesitation. With a wet crunch, it pierced through his skull and drove into the crater below. The jin within instantly liquefied his brain tissue. His body convulsed violently for a few moments, shuddered, and fell still. Chen Chuan waited a moment, pulled the weapon free, and with a light flick of force, shook off the clinging blood and flesh. Bending down, he wiped it clean on the man's shredded overcoat, muttering, "I gave you a final chance, yet you didn't take it." After sustaining such severe trauma, Fan Mo had lost the ability to mask himself; every minute twitch had fallen under Chen Chuan's perception. He had caught the man's final subtle movement, which had even triggered a mental premonition. Chen Chuan had initially intended to step back, but Fan Mo had hesitated at the crucial moment and failed to act. Naturally, Chen Chuan had shown no further mercy, finishing him off on the spot. In truth, this Fan Mo had been exceptionally strong, but he relied far too heavily on underhanded tricks and external schemes rather than his genuine martial prowess. Consequently, his heart as a fighter lacked true conviction. Had Fan Mo cast everything aside to wage an all-out battle against him, bolstered by mental fortitude, his strength would have increased by several notches at least, and the outcome might have been different. Well, at least he would have died a less pathetic death. After wiping the saber clean, he searched Fan Mo's body, uncovering a few items. Unable to immediately identify them, he decided to take them back for examination. Next, he picked up Fan Mo's saber and examined it closely. He could tell it possessed a storied heritage, likely originating from some combat style of the old era, though in Fan Mo's hands, it had been squandered. He unfastened the scabbard from the corpse, returned the blade to its sheath, and straightened up. Tapping his boundary credential, he instructed the personnel above to come down and handle the body. This was the Lower District, after all. If he simply abandoned Fan Mo's corpse here, it might be carved up and sold off the moment he turned his back. It wasn't that he felt any respect for the man, but rather that the corpse might harbor further clues. It needed to be brought back for autopsy and could not be left to be vandalized. As he was making contact, Yuan Qiuyuan's voice came through: "Captain, we've dealt with the brood insect—guaranteed not a speck of it is left. But what about those containers of high-energy nutrient solution? How should we handle them? Oh, we found two more identical warehouses afterward, and they're packed with this stuff too." Chen Chuan pondered for a moment and said, "Send it all to the rear." High-energy nutrient solution happened to be something he needed as well; it could be used to enhance the Xuejun Saber. Having experienced the advantages the weapon brought him today, further improvement would naturally be welcome. Of course, his teammates and the bureau each had a share in this captured loot, but that would be easy to handle—he could simply compensate them with other resources later on.