SWDnovel Chapter 100 A Martial Immortal Descends to Earth, Using Hidden Force to Counterattack Transformed Fo
Chapter 100 A Martial Immortal Descends to Earth, Using Hidden Force to Counterattack Transformed Fo
Chapter 101 A Martial Immortal Descends to Earth, Using Hidden Force to Counterattack a Transformed Force! (7k-word long chapter!)
The rain was like a hole in the Milky Way, falling endlessly.
The backyard of the Simin Martial Arts Club was muddy and treacherous.
Wanyan Lie's mountain-like corpse lay stiffly in the mud and water.
His bull-like eyes, which never closed until his death, were wide open, and what remained in his eyes was not fear, but a kind of bewilderment that he could not understand until his death.
He couldn't figure it out.
His incredible martial arts skills were forged in the harsh, cold lands beyond the Great Wall, where he endured forty years of training, including battling bears against trees and rubbing his skin with scorching iron filings.
When ordinary swords and knives cut into it, they only leave a white mark.
But now.
A wooden stick without a spearhead.
A broken ash tree stump, which can be seen everywhere, even with burrs.
Just like that, so easily, it pierced him right through.
"Pfft, pfft—"
Blood was still gushing out, mixing with the rainwater and forming a small, dark red pool in the low-lying area.
The wooden stick was still stuck in his chest, trembling slightly in the wind, like a wordless tombstone, mocking this so-called "half-step grandmaster".
Quiet.
A deathly silence.
Apart from the sound of rain, you couldn't even hear breathing.
The Japanese ninjas present were trembling with fear.
They were killing machines, devoid of emotion, but at that moment, they felt a chill on their necks, as if that wooden stick might stab into their throats at any moment.
Corridor.
The Japanese swordsman Yagyu Shizukumo, who had been squinting as if nothing was bothering him, suddenly opened his eyes.
Those eyes, which were originally as calm as a still well, were now filled with turbulent waves.
"impossible----"
He murmured in Japanese.
"That's the defense of neutralizing internal energy, the Iron Shirt of the human body at its limit."
"That Chinese man—that actor—he didn't have the 'smooth and flawless' aura of a fully-developed martial artist; he was clearly still only at the level of hidden strength."
"Using hidden force to counteract and neutralize force?"
Yagyu Shizuku's heart clenched painfully.
In the Japanese martial arts world, there is a strict hierarchy.
A level higher is like heaven and earth.
Trying to kill someone with hidden strength is like trying to cut through iron armor with a wooden sword; theoretically, it's impossible to break through their defenses.
But Lu Cheng did it.
Not only did they achieve it, but they won so decisively, so cleanly, so—unreasonably.
"monster."
Yagyu Shizuku took a deep breath, a hint of apprehension flashing in his eyes that he had never felt before.
"If this child does not die, the military fortunes of my Great Japanese Empire will surely suffer a great calamity!"
the other side.
Leaning against a pillar, covered in blood, Old Master Han looked as if he had seen a ghost.
Ignoring the bleeding wounds on his body, he shakily straightened up, leaning against a pillar, his cloudy old eyes fixed on Lu Cheng in the rain.
Lu Cheng remained standing there.
He wore a moon-white long robe, slightly damp from the rain, which clung to his body, revealing his slender yet explosively powerful figure.
His hands were empty, and there was no wild joy on his face after killing a powerful enemy. He was as calm as if he had just taken off his makeup backstage and was about to go home to have some porridge.
That kind of understated elegance that comes from the very core of one's being.
In Mr. Han's eyes, however, it became the most terrifying "ethereal aura".
"What...what kind of freak is this?"
Old Master Han's lips trembled as his mind raced through the legendary figures of the martial arts world over the past century.
"Yang Luchan studied boxing in Chenjiagou for decades. Dong Haichuan spent his entire life practicing his palm techniques before developing his unpredictable and agile movements. Senior Sun Lutang, however, absorbed the strengths of many schools to become the world's number one boxer."
"But they weren't this weird when they were young!"
"Hidden Force Kills a Half-Step Transformation Force"
"And it was made with a broken wooden stick—"
Grandpa Han suddenly remembered a word.
That phrase only exists in Taoist classics, or in the boasts of older masters when they're drunk.
【Martial Immortal】.
In the Dharma-ending Age, guns and cannons rise, and martial arts decline.
The things passed down from our ancestors seemed so pale and powerless in the face of that dark gun barrel.
Many masters who spent their entire lives honing their skills ultimately died under a hail of bullets.
The warrior was in despair.
They felt that this path was blocked, and no matter how well they trained, they would only be destined to be house guards.
But today.
On this stormy night.
Grandpa Han saw a ray of light in Lu Cheng.
A beam of light that could pierce through the dark clouds!
"This child—is no ordinary person."
"He was born at the right time."
"It was Heaven that saw our Chinese martial arts were on the verge of collapse, so it specially sent down the Martial Star!"
Grandpa Han suddenly smiled.
He laughed until tears streamed down his face, and the bloodstains on his face dissolved from his laughter.
"Okay, okay."
"Heaven has not forsaken Chinese martial arts."
"Now that such a seed has emerged, my old bones—even if they fill a ditch—are worth it."
A resolute will to die rose from the old man's withered chest.
he knows.
Yagyu Seiun hasn't made a move yet.
That is the true Grandmaster of Transformation, a demonic blade that kills without drawing blood.
Although Lu Cheng is strong, he is still young, and that attack must have taken a huge toll on his mental and physical strength.
If Yagyu Shizuku were to make a move at this moment, Lu Cheng would be in grave danger.
"We can't let him die here."
"He has to live."
"As long as he's alive, he's the backbone of our martial arts world. If he were to fall, the sky would truly collapse."
"call----"
Grandpa Han took a deep breath.
This breath was taken very long and very deep.
It was as if he wanted to inhale all the wind and rain in this courtyard, along with his seventy years of life, into his stomach in one breath.
"Om one—"
A strange rumbling sound suddenly came from his body.
Her face, which was originally as pale as paper, instantly turned flushed, even turning a purplish-red.
That was him burning his heart's blood.
He was overdrawing his last bit of life potential, forcibly pushing his already depleted energy back to its peak state.
A final burst of energy before death.
"Brother Lu!!"
Old Master Han let out a loud shout, his voice booming like a bell, causing dust to fall from the roof beams.
He ripped off his tattered long robe, revealing his thin, scarred upper body.
He raised the red-tasseled spear, took a step forward, and stood in front of Lu Cheng.
"Walk!!"
"Leave this to me!"
Lu Cheng was stunned for a moment.
He looked at that hunched back, and in that instant, it seemed to grow incredibly tall.
That is—inheritance.
They were the older generation of martial artists who risked their lives to pave the way for future generations.
"Old Han————"
Lu Cheng was about to speak.
"Stop talking nonsense!!"
Grandpa Han didn't give him a chance to speak at all. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at Liu Shengjingyun opposite him. His aura was rising steadily, and he was even showing signs of overwhelming his opponent.
"I am Han Tieshou, and I have been practicing boxing for sixty years."
"I have neither brought honor to our ancestors nor served the country faithfully."
"Today—"
With a flick of his spear, Old Master Han unleashed a burst of energy that resembled a blood-red lotus.
"I'll trade this old life for a future Martial Saint."
"You little devils, come on!!!"
The rain intensified.
Grandpa Han's roar seemed to unleash all the energy and spirit he had accumulated throughout his life.
His previously withered muscles were now strangely bulging, with veins throbbing wildly under his skin like earthworms.
That's a sign that the Qi and blood are flowing in reverse and the meridians are about to break.
But he doesn't care.
The spear in his hand was now a living fire dragon.
"kill!"
With a powerful stomp of his foot, Old Master Han unleashed his full strength, propelling himself like a burning cannonball towards Liu Shengjingyun.
This shot carried the devastating tragedy of no return, and the resolute determination to destroy everything.
Even if there's a mountain in front of him, he'll still make a hole in it.
opposite.
Yagyu Seiun remained standing there.
He looked at Old Master Han rushing towards him, and for the first time, a flicker of emotion appeared in his cold eyes.
That is—respect.
That was a martial artist's respect for another martial artist.
"Is this 'overdrawing one's life'?"
Yagyu Seiun murmured to himself as he slowly gripped the hilt of his sword.
"The Chinese martial arts world does indeed have some tough guys."
"pity----"
"Faced with an absolute gap in skill level, fighting desperately is futile."
"Since you want to express your determination in this way, then I will grant your wish."
"With the highest secret technique of my Yagyu Shinkage-ryu school, I will send you on your way."
"Clang 1" 6
A crisp, melodious sound, yet chillingly sharp, as the sword was drawn.
The sword was drawn.
In that instant, the rain curtain seemed to have been cut open with a neat slit.
A blade of light, as swift as mercury spilling onto the ground, traced a perfect arc in the darkness.
fast.
too fast.
Even when Lu Cheng activated his [Fiery Eyes of Truth], he could only catch a fleeting afterimage.
This is the divine intent strike of a Grandmaster of Transformation.
It is a pinnacle strike that combines spirit, energy, and skill!
"when!!!"
A loud bang.
Grandpa Han's spear was like a fragile reed in the face of that flash of light.
The spearhead was severed.
The red-tasseled spearhead flew into the air, spun around, and finally stuck into the mud.
But Grandpa Han did not back down.
The gun broke, but he still had people.
He threw away the broken gun barrel, lunged forward, his hands forming claws—the "Tiger Pounce" move from Xingyi Quan. Even if it meant death, he was determined to bite a piece of flesh off this Japanese soldier.
As Liu Shengjingyun looked at Old Master Han rushing towards him, a fleeting hint of respect flashed in his eyes.
The battle of martial arts not only determines superiority but also life and death.
I admire you, therefore I kill you—that is the logic of Japanese Bushido.
"China's backbone is indeed strong."
With a slight twist of his wrist, Yagyu Seiun's blade sliced through the rain, producing a hissing sound as it tore through the fabric.
"But even something as hard as steel can break."
He didn't retreat, nor did he even assume a defensive stance. He simply took half a step forward, his figure flashing like a ghost as he cut into Old Master Han's central gate.
A flash of light.
That's a variation of the Iaijutsu—[Swallow Return].
The blade moved upwards, aiming straight for Old Master Han's throat. If this strike landed, the head of this grandmaster of Xingyi Quan would roll off like a rotten watermelon.
Grandpa Han was already at his last gasp; his desperate lunge was sustained only by his last breath.
Faced with this deadly blow, he had no way to avoid it, and a resolute sense of liberation shone in his cloudy old eyes.
"Ancestor, Iron Hand comes to kowtow to you."
He closed his eyes, waiting for that touch of coldness.
however.
Just as the blade was less than three inches from Old Master Han's Adam's apple, and the chilling aura of the blade had already pierced the old man's skin, drawing blood—
"call out-!"
"call--!"
Two extremely sharp and strange sounds suddenly rang out from outside the broken gate of the Simin Martial Arts Club.
The sound was so fast that it even outpaced the speed of the falling rain.
Yagyu Seiun's sword was incredibly fast, but those two things were even faster than his sword!
"bite!!!"
A crisp sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.
An ordinary copper coin, carrying a terrifying spinning force, struck the tip of Yagyu Shizukumo's knife with unparalleled precision.
That spiraling, drilling force actually deflected the deadly strike by three inches.
Followed by.
"Bang!!!"
A broken door bolt, as thick as a child's arm, slammed into the middle of the blade like a cannonball, accompanied by a howling gale.
The force attached to this bolt was astonishing, incredibly strong, and seemingly beyond human capability.
Yagyu Shizuku felt a violent tremor in his hand, and half of his arm went numb instantly. The famous sword "Dojigiri" almost flew out of his hand.
His expression changed drastically, and he retreated rapidly, the blade drawing an arc in the air to protect him.
"Who goes there?!"
Yagyu Seiyun looked toward the gate in horror.
Those two things represent the pinnacle of skillful technique and the ultimate expression of brute force.
These are—two top-tier masters.
Two figures slowly walked in through the rain.
The man on the left was thin, with white hair and beard, and wore a faded long gown. He looked like a schoolteacher, but he walked silently, and his eyes shone brightly, as if a clever monkey was hidden inside him.
On the right is a short, stout man with a round belly, carrying a large pipe. With each step he takes, the blue bricks under his feet creak and groan, as if his body is not fat but a golden statue of an Arhat cast in iron.
Upon seeing these two people, Old Master Han, who had been waiting to die with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them, and his cloudy tears instantly welled up.
"Mr. Sun, Senior Brother Shang!"
The newcomer was none other than the most prominent figure in the martial arts world of the Republic of China era.
Sun Lutang, known as the "Tiger-Headed Junior Guardian" and "Number One Hand in the World"!
And Shang Yunxiang, the grandmaster of Xingyi Quan, nicknamed "Iron-Legged Buddha"!
These two are both true Grandmasters of Internal Energy, figures who stand at the pinnacle of martial arts.
Sun Lutang stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze indifferent.
"The Qing Dynasty is long gone, how dare these Japanese pirates run rampant on our Chinese soil?"
Shang Yunxiang had an even more fiery temper. He slammed his pipe on the sole of his shoe, revealing a fierce glint in his not-so-large eyes.
"Damn it, they think they can bully my Xingyi School because they have no one to rely on?"
"Who threw that knife just now? Step forward!"
Yagyu Seiyun looked at the two of them, his heart pounding wildly.
If it were a one-on-one fight, he might not be afraid.
But these two—their auras were so smooth and flawless, they were clearly old monsters who had been immersed in the art of transforming internal energy for many years.
Especially that skinny old man, Sun Lutang, who seemed to be one with heaven and earth when he stood there, unfathomable.
Add to that Lu Cheng, who, although only at the peak of the Dark Force realm, had just killed a half-step Transformation Force cultivator and possessed astonishing killing power—
The game is over.
"Baka!"
Yagyu Seiun was also a decisive person, and did not hesitate at all.
He suddenly pulled a black sphere from his pocket and threw it to the ground.
"Bang!"
A thick plume of white smoke exploded instantly, carrying a pungent sulfurous smell that filled the entire yard.
Ninjutsu, Smoke Release.
"Trying to run away?!"
Sun Lutang snorted coldly, his figure moving like lightning, stepping on the unparalleled "Qilin Step," and directly rushed into the smoke.
"Leave it here for me."
Shang Yunxiang also roared, and his huge body suddenly burst out with astonishing speed, like an enraged rhinoceros, chasing after it.
From within the smoke came several crisp metallic clangs, followed by a muffled groan.
Then, a dark figure broke through the courtyard wall, and after a few leaps, disappeared in a disheveled state into the vast rainy night.
"Chase!!"
Sun Lutang and Shang Yunxiang exchanged a glance, and without saying a word, they gathered their energy and lightly chased after him.
Once such grandmasters get truly enraged, it's a fight to the death.
The smoke dissipated in the courtyard.
The crisis is over.
But the stench of blood and gore just wouldn't dissipate.
Old Master Han leaned against the pillar, his body limp as a lump of mud. Although the blow hadn't severed his head, the energy from the blade had seeped into his body, and combined with the burning of his life essence earlier, he was now completely exhausted.
"Old Han."
Lu Cheng strode over and caught the old man who was about to fall.
It feels cool to the touch.
That skeleton, which was originally as hard as steel, was now trembling slightly, and the life force within it was rapidly draining away.
"Brother Lu—"
When Grandpa Han opened his eyes, it was a faint, dying light.
He looked at Lu Cheng, a smile that was more like a grimace than a cry.
"No...nothing embarrassing, right?"
"I'm not ashamed."
Lu Cheng grasped the old man's withered hand, his voice low but carrying a reassuring strength.
"You're doing great. The reputation of the Simin Martial Arts Club hasn't fallen."
"That's good—that's good—"
Grandpa Han breathed a sigh of relief, his head tilted to the side, and he was about to faint.
"You can't sleep."
Lu Cheng's sharp shout, like the thunderous roar of a tiger or leopard, made Old Master Han's eardrums throb, forcibly bringing him back to his senses.
"Shunzi, where's the car?!"
Lu Cheng roared.
"It's at the door, the engine's been running the whole time," Shunzi cried out, her voice trembling with tears.
Without saying a word, Lu Cheng picked up Old Master Han and carried him horizontally.
He didn't dare use too much force, fearing he might shatter the old man's already fragile heart meridians.
The [Toad-Catching Strength] within his body was pushed to its limit, and streams of warm and mellow true energy poured into Old Master Han's body as if it were free.
To hang oneself.
He's fighting with the King of Hell for someone.
"Go to Tongrentang, quick!!"
Lu Cheng carried the old man out of the martial arts school like a gust of wind and got into the black Ford sedan.
The wheels rolled on, shattering the tranquility of the rainy night, heading straight for the front door.
Tongrentang, back hall.
Bright lights.
Mr. Le was wearing pajamas, his hair was loose, he was holding a few gold needles in his hand, and his forehead was covered in sweat.
He was forcibly dragged out of bed by Lu Cheng.
These days, only Master Lu would dare to smash up Tongrentang's door like this.
On the bed, Old Master Han was barely breathing, his body covered in gold needles, looking like a hedgehog.
Beside him, the young man brewing the medicine fanned himself, and the medicine pot on the stove bubbled and steamed, wafting out a rich aroma of ginseng.
That was a 500-year-old ginseng, the prized possession of Tongrentang. Lu Cheng simply bought it with a 3,000-dollar silver note and had it sliced up.
"call----"
After a long while, Mr. Le let out a long breath and took out the last injection.
He wiped his sweat, turned around, and looked at Lu Cheng, who had been standing to the side like a guardian deity.
"His life has been saved."
Lu Cheng's tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly.
"but----"
Mr. Le shook his head and sighed.
"His martial arts skills are now useless."
"His qi and blood are severely depleted, and his meridians are ruptured. In the future, he won't be able to do anything, let alone engage in martial arts or even slightly strenuous work. He can only rest and recuperate, living a wealthy life, and perhaps he can live a few more years."
Lu Cheng nodded, his expression calm.
"It's good that you're alive."
"As long as the people are still here, the spirit of the Simin Martial Arts Club will remain."
He walked to the bedside and looked at Grandpa Han, who had already woken up.
The old man's eyes dimmed, clearly having heard what Mr. Le had said. For someone who had practiced martial arts his entire life, losing his skills was worse than being killed.
"Brother Lu————"
Grandpa Han's voice was weak, yet it carried a hint of stubbornness.
"The picture—that picture—"
"It's still there."
Lu Cheng said softly.
"I've already sent someone to check, and the hidden compartment behind the ancestral master's tablet is intact. The Japanese didn't succeed."
Grandpa Han breathed a sigh of relief, and a single, cloudy tear slid down his cheek.
Looking at the old man, Lu Cheng suddenly felt a sense of doubt.
He hesitated for a moment, but still asked the question.
"Old Han."
"Actually—you should know that the true meaning of that painting, the 'White Tiger Carrying a Corpse,' that essence that can help people break through to higher realms, has already been taken by me."
"That picture is now just an ancient painting of a tiger. Although it is precious, it is just an object."
"Why—why would you sacrifice your life, and the lives of your disciples and their descendants, for such a soulless piece of paper?"
"If it had been handed over from the beginning, perhaps—"
Lu Cheng didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear.
In his view, human life is of paramount importance.
Things are inanimate, but people are alive.
Since we've already secured the most crucial benefits, what harm is there in giving the Japanese that empty shell of a map? We can always take it back later.
As Grandpa Han listened, a light slowly shone in his cloudy eyes.
The light, though faint, was extremely firm.
He raised his hand with difficulty, pointed to his chest, and then to the night sky outside the window.
"Brother Lu."
"Your kung fu is superb, your talent is exceptional; you are a dragon from the heavens."
"But there are some things—you don't understand."
The old man took a breath, his voice broken and intermittent, yet every word carried immense weight.
"That's more than just a painting."
"That is something left behind by our ancestors."
"That is the face of our Xingyi School, the root of our Chinese martial arts."
Even if its original meaning is gone, even if it becomes a piece of waste paper.
"As long as it was passed down from our ancestors."
"Then we can't give it to the Japanese!"
Grandpa Han stared at Lu Cheng, his eyes revealing the stubbornness of an old-fashioned man.
"If we give it to them, our backbone will be broken."
"After I go to the underworld, how will I face my ancestor Liu Dekuan? How will I face my fellow disciples who died on the battlefield against the Japanese pirates?"
"A person needs to have breath to live."
"If this spirit is lost, no matter how high one's kung fu skills are, one will only be a traitor."
Lu Cheng fell silent.
He stood there, silent for a long time.
Outside the window, the rain has stopped.
But Old Master Han's words struck him like a thunderbolt.
He always believed that martial arts was about strengthening the body, killing enemies, and simply living.
But today, this old man, who had lost his martial arts skills, taught him the most profound lesson.
Martial arts are also a form of protection.
Hold fast to that seemingly useless but actually more important than life itself—integrity.
Lu Cheng took a deep breath and bowed deeply to the old man on the bed.
This bow was not to pay homage to martial arts skills, but to that unyielding spirit.
"Been taught a lesson.
three days later.
The news reached Beiping.
Yagyu Shizuku ran away.
He was chased for three hundred li by the two grandmasters, Sun Lutang and Shang Yunxiang, all the way to the coast of Tianjin.
That old Japanese soldier was incredibly lucky; despite being severely injured, he jumped into the sea and was rescued by a Japanese warship.
However, his prized sword, "Dojigiri Yasutsuna," which he cherished as his life, was kicked away by Shang Yunxiang and taken back to Beiping, where it was hung at the entrance of the Simin Martial Arts Club as a trophy.
Although the martial arts community in Beiping suffered heavy losses in this battle, they still managed to demonstrate their prowess and fighting spirit.
But it's not over yet.
The men in the martial arts world are the kind of guys who can't tolerate any nonsense.
-
How could the Japanese have known so much about the defenses and personnel movements of the martial arts club when it was attacked?
They even knew about the secret that President Liu had gone to Tianjin?
This is not just an external enemy, this is—there is a traitor within.
"check!"
"Investigate this thoroughly!"
At Marshal Ma's residence, Marshal Ma Linyuan was so angry that he smashed a cup.
This happened on his turf, and it's a slap in the face for him.
Under the direction of Commander Ma, and with the cooperation of local gangsters like the Beggars' Gang and the Green Gang, the entire underground network of Beiping was mobilized.
Soon, the clues came together.
All the criticisms were subtly pointing to one place—Fengtai Daying.
It pointed to Commander Zhang, who had just celebrated his fiftieth birthday but had received two coffins.
"I knew it was that old dog."
Master Li slammed his fist on the table in the teahouse, spitting as he spoke.
"Someone saw it; that night, Commander Zhang's adjutant drank with those Japanese."
"Some people also say that the information about the martial arts school came from Commander Zhang's residence."
Although there is no conclusive evidence, rumors are often more dangerous than the truth in such situations.
Moreover, someone is behind this, fanning the flames.
Lu Cheng wasn't idle either.
Although he didn't take direct action, he had Ah Bing write a few jokes.
Outside Qianmen, under the overpass.
Liu Mazi, the storyteller, was a local celebrity.
Today, he struck the gavel and waved his fan, not reciting "The Story of Yue Fei," but reciting a passage from a new book—"Zhang the Great Marshal Who Sold Out His Country for Personal Gain."
"Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you about that General Zhang. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing."
"He acts all respectable in public, but secretly he's in cahoots with the Japanese devils."
"In order to deal with our national hero, Master Lu, he did not hesitate to sell the map of our ancestors' martial arts school."
"This kind of person is Qin Hui reincarnated; he is a disgrace to the people of Beiping."
The audience below was furious, smashing their teacups and shouting insults.
"Traitorous dog."
"Pah! What kind of bullshit division commander is he? He's just a dog guarding the house!"
The wind is getting stronger and stronger.
Not only in Tianqiao, but even in the theaters of Dashilan, the lyrics of the operas were changed, subtly criticizing Commander Zhang.
The newspapers were filled with it.
Although we dare not say it outright, who can't understand those words like "a certain warlord" and "a certain officer"?
In just a few days.
Commander Zhang's reputation was utterly ruined.
In the past, when he went out, he was very imposing, and although the common people were afraid of him, they still had to respect him.
What now?
As soon as he steps out, countless eyes are watching him, countless mouths are cursing him, and even children throw rotten vegetable leaves at his car.
Fengtai Camp, Division Commander's Residence.
"Snapped!"
Commander Zhang tore a copy of the Beijing Daily to shreds.
His face was as black as the bottom of a pot, his eyes were sunken and full of bloodshot veins.
He was afraid.
I'm really scared.
These past few days, he hasn't even dared to sleep.
When I close my eyes, all I see are Lu Cheng's golden, gleaming eyes and the wooden stick that pierced through Wanyan Lie.
"That kid—is that kid a human or a ghost?"
Commander Zhang paced back and forth in the room, like a wild beast trapped in a cage.
"Yagyu Seiun has been driven away, and Wanyan Lie has been stabbed to death—"
"Am I next?"
Although he had troops under his command, he knew even better that if a grandmaster of that level wanted to kill someone, even with a thousand troops, it was not necessarily possible to prevent it.
Especially those "decapitation strikes".
"Someone come here!!"
Commander Zhang roared hysterically.
"Give me extra shifts, double—no, triple."
"Get all the machine guns on the roof, and even have two people stand at the toilet entrance."
"
"Also, go and invite an expert!"
"Bring those reclusive families, like Chenjiagou and Yangjiapu, as long as they have real skills, at a high price."
"A thousand silver dollars a month—no, a thousand silver dollars a day. I'll pay whatever it takes to keep me alive."
He locked himself in this impenetrable mansion, even sealing the windows with steel plates.
Guns and cannons are everywhere, and skilled fighters abound.
Only in this way could he barely manage to doze off for a while on that large bed covered with tiger skin.
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