Counterattack

Time trickled by, and the sky gradually darkened.

Yang Heng knew his chance had come!

He looked back and saw the two men drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. Their speed had clearly slowed, and they looked as though they could no longer keep going.

Yet he still did not act rashly, afraid this was a trap meant to lure him in.

Yang Heng had guessed correctly. This truly was a trap laid by the two of them.

The moment Yang Heng turned back to fight, they would stir their qi and blood, instantly pushing their bodies to their peak and dealing Yang Heng a fatal blow.

But no matter how long they waited, Yang Heng refused to take the bait. The two of them were so furious they wanted to curse their mothers.

They truly had not expected an ordinary man's stamina to surpass that of two martial artists. It was like seeing a living ghost.

They still had some strength left and were unwilling to give up like this. Otherwise, all their previous effort would have gone to waste.

Moreover, this was the closest they had ever come to an Intermediate Martial Art. No matter what, they had to persist to the end.

Thus, gritting their teeth, they continued chasing after Yang Heng.

Even now, the two men still refused to give up, looking as though they would not rest until they had killed him. Yang Heng found it puzzling.

After all, he had no deep-seated grudge against either of them. Why go this far?

Since it was not for revenge, it had to be for profit.

Li Kui must have offered them a price too tempting to refuse.

At that thought, Yang Heng sneered. He was actually afraid the two of them would stop chasing him.

If they came to capture and kill him again next time, they would surely be fully prepared. By then, his life would be in danger.

To keep the two from developing thoughts of retreat, Yang Heng deliberately slowed down, neither hurried nor slow as he dangled hope before them.

Sure enough, when the two saw Yang Heng slow down, their eyes instantly lit up and joy appeared on their faces.

Heaven had eyes—this brat was finally running out of strength.

The two exchanged glances and saw the excitement in each other's eyes, along with their deep resentment toward Yang Heng.

"Damn brat, he actually put us through all this. Once we catch him, we must torture him properly—break all four of his limbs and make him crawl on the ground barking like a dog, so we can vent the rage in our chests."

A venomous gleam flashed in Liu Xin's eyes as he spoke viciously.

"Yes, we must teach him a proper lesson. Since I began practicing martial arts, I have never suffered such humiliation at the hands of an ordinary person. He actually led us around like dogs. Utterly hateful!" Zhang Meng's eyes were bloodshot, filled with fury.

After speaking, the two adjusted themselves, forcibly drew in a breath, and strode after Yang Heng with sharp longsabers in hand.

Under the night sky, the blades gave off a dazzling cold gleam, and a killing aura filled the air.

The night grew colder.

The summer wilderness, usually chirping and chattering, was now silent as a grave. Birds and beasts alike had fallen mute.

A quarter of an hour quickly passed.

Yang Heng had preserved his stamina well. Yet under his deliberate pretense, he looked breathless and drenched in sweat, his steps unsteady and his speed less than half of what it had been at the start.

From time to time, he looked back, his eyes full of panic.

Seeing Yang Heng in this state, the two were overjoyed, knowing that his strength was nearly spent.

At this moment, they too had reached the point where the oil was exhausted and the lamp had run dry. The heavy sabers in their hands swayed as though about to fall, their grips unsteady and their faces pale.

But they were not worried about their own condition in the slightest. After three years of martial training, they had trump cards to rely on.

Before the Blood Strengthening Realm, there was actually another realm—the Blood Brave Realm, the realm Liu Xin and Zhang Meng were in.

This realm lay between ordinary people and martial artists. One's physique did not change much, and there was no qualitative breakthrough. It was not acknowledged by the martial arts community, which privately called those who had just begun martial training Blood Brave Disciples.

Blood Brave Disciples were naturally not worth mentioning before true martial artists, but they held a great advantage when dealing with ordinary people.

This realm was divided into two stages: Sensing Qi and Blood, and accumulating qi and blood.

Martial practitioners in the Sensing Qi and Blood stage were only a little stronger than ordinary people. When facing fierce bandits, they were highly likely to lose their lives.

Martial practitioners in the accumulating qi and blood stage experienced a great leap in strength. Their physical condition far surpassed that of ordinary people, their stamina was long-lasting, and their reaction speed was more than three or four times that of an ordinary person.

The most special point was that martial artists at this stage could burn their own qi and blood, causing their strength to surge instantly. The duration depended on the amount of qi and blood they possessed.

Burning one's own qi and blood brought a great increase in strength, but it also came with severe aftereffects.

Afterward, the body would be extremely weak. They would be unable to fight for a year and would have to consume blood-nourishing items during that time to recuperate.

Of course, this was not absolute.

If one had premium blood-nourishing items, such as aged ginseng, Lingzhi Mushroom, or certain blood-nourishing pills, the body could recover quickly.

This move was a killing trump card, a last resort for risking one's life, normally used only when facing a fatal crisis.

Zhang Meng and Liu Xin were both disciples in the accumulating qi and blood stage and could use this move.

This was also why, despite knowing their strength had greatly diminished and their stamina was failing, they still had the confidence to pursue Yang Heng.

Compared with the value of an Intermediate Martial Art, they could afford such a price.

Yang Heng was no fool.

Seeing that the two could clearly no longer hold their sabers steadily and were nearly dropping them, yet still insisted on hunting him down, he knew they must be hiding a trump card—one capable of deciding everything with a single hammer blow!

Otherwise, they would not be so fearless.

The night grew deeper and deeper.

Under the moonlight, the few of them raced through barren mountains and wilderness. There were no lights around them, and human traces were scarce.

Huff... huff...

In the silent wilderness, violent panting rang out, loud as drumsticks beating on a cowhide drum.

Huff... inhale...

Huff... inhale...

No one knew how long they had run.

Zhang Meng and Liu Xin had now completely run dry. Both collapsed limply to the ground, gasping for air.

They only felt their muscles ache, their limbs weak, and their vision blurred.

The longsabers they never let leave their hands had also fallen to the ground.

Just now, they had forced themselves to hold on with one breath and desperately chased after Yang Heng. Seeing him draw closer and closer, with his back clearly visible and seemingly within reach, they had pushed themselves even harder.

They gritted their teeth and gave chase with all their might, completely unaware that their strength was about to be exhausted.

After running who knew how long or how far, Yang Heng felt a slight trace of fatigue. The strips of pork on him had been completely used up, and he had expended nearly half his stamina.

But he still had the strength to fight!

Seeing the two collapse one after another from exhaustion, looking completely drained, Yang Heng still did not lower his guard.

Sweeping his gaze around, Yang Heng noticed that the ground was covered in dirt and rocks.

A faint smile curled his lips. He had an idea.

He picked up a fist-sized bluestone and hurled it at the two men's heads with all his strength.

The stone howled through the air with tremendous force, like a cannonball shooting forth.

To Yang Heng's surprise, the stone truly struck one of them in the head.

Blood splattered everywhere, and faint cracking sounds rang out.

From afar, the man who had been struck had a face of bloody pulp and did not move at all, as though he were already dead.

"Could he really be dead?"

Yang Heng was suspicious.

Were martial artists' bodies really so fragile?

Yang Heng did not dare be careless. Rather than step forward to check whether the man was truly dead, he retreated several steps, keeping a safe distance of roughly ten zhang from the two men. He continued picking up stones and throwing them at the injured man's head.

He could lift three hundred jin with one hand. A stone thrown with all his strength was not to be underestimated; it could smash a small pit into the ground.

If one hit did not kill him, then several more surely would!