Ambushed, Counterattack

Successfully acquiring a body technique had made up for the last gap in his combat abilities.

If resources were insufficient, then there was no need to think about body tempering.

As long as he was fast enough, others would not be able to hit him.

Now, as long as he coordinated the Scythe Technique and the body technique, allowing himself to attack while moving, he would have a certain foundation in combat power.

It was barely enough for self-preservation.

He would no longer need to set up so many traps like when he had killed the Old Beggar.

As soon as that thought arose, Fang Ling froze and swiftly slapped himself.

The slap rang out crisply.

He felt ashamed of that thought.

He was still not cautious enough!

Of course, if he could use traps, then he should use traps.

Cripple them first, then harvest them.

If they managed to escape the traps, Fang Ling could then fight them openly and fairly.

Waiting at ease for the exhausted while fighting the injured at full health—that was his version of fairness.

After reassessing his thoughts, Fang Ling got himself back on track.

Now it was time to bathe. He still had cultivation to do later, so he could not delay.

Even a mosquito leg was still meat, let alone meditation cultivation that could increase his Soul Power.

On the way here, he had stumbled with one foot shallow and the other deep. On the way back, he lightly leaped across tree roots and jagged rocks.

It was not quite smooth yet, but the future looked promising!

A month passed.

Fang Ling had coordinated the Scythe Technique and body technique quite well, and his fighting skills had begun to take shape.

If he were to fight Tang San now, then...

Forget it.

But if he fought Wang Sheng, he was confident that the fellow with exceptional endurance would not be able to touch him at all.

Then Wang Sheng would collapse to the ground, bleeding all over and covered in wounds.

It was early summer, and the sun blazed brightly overhead.

He walked through the shade of the trees, carrying a waterskin as he headed briskly toward the slaughterhouse.

Halfway there, he suddenly noticed someone lying on the ground.

It was a young man with skin as pale as death, looking weak and powerless.

He lay there with his eyes closed as though he had fainted, sleeping quietly.

His sunken eye sockets and dark circles gave Fang Ling a faint sense of familiarity.

Familiar?

Fang Ling frowned, immediately becoming wary.

With the orphan's routine of traveling mostly between the academy and slaughterhouse, or occasionally visiting the fat man at the butcher shop at worst, he was certain he had never met this man.

Besides, someone was lying by the roadside looking like an addict. Something was not right.

Fang Ling had no intention of checking on him.

Only by not being curious and not meddling in other people's business could one live long on the Douluo Continent.

He slightly adjusted his direction, preparing to take another route.

The pale-faced young man raised one hand slightly, curling his fingers as he weakly said, "Young man, help me."

"Who are you?" That was what a normal person ought to ask.

But Fang Ling was not normal. He was extremely cautious.

A strong sense of incongruity came from the young man ahead, and alarm bells suddenly rang in his heart.

Sensing that something was wrong, he immediately began slowly backing away.

"Hey! Young man, don't go." The pale-faced young man became anxious and began tempting him with money. "Help me out. Help me get back to the city, and I'll give you one Gold Soul Coin."

He took a round golden coin from his pouch.

It was as if he were proving that he was not lying.

One Gold Soul Coin!

For something as simple as helping him back to the city?

The reward did not match the task. There had to be something fishy going on!

Fang Ling's reaction exceeded his expectations. Upon hearing such a profitable offer, he actually backed away faster.

Sure enough, the moment Fang Ling retreated, the situation changed in an instant.

The pale-faced young man's face twitched as he struggled to stand. "My luck is rotten today, running into such a vigilant crippled brat."

"Are there still poor bastards who don't like Gold Soul Coins?"

He could not be mistaken. These coarse linen clothes had only two virtues: cheap and durable.

Other than laborers and those who did filthy, exhausting work, no normal person would wear clothing like this. It was uncomfortable to wear.

Fang Ling sensed deep malice in his tone and turned to run.

Yet even with the boost from his body technique, he found that he could not outrun him.

The other party was a young adult, while Fang Ling was only a child. Their leg lengths were different.

One of the man's steps matched two of Fang Ling's.

But he should not have been this much faster.

Unless something unexpected happened, he was probably a Soul Master.

Fang Ling thought rapidly, unable to recall ever offending anyone.

He truly did not know how he had provoked this man.

Things were too urgent now. This was not the time to think about such matters.

He was not fast enough and would soon be caught. This could not continue; he had to find a way to shake him off!

He absolutely could not be caught.

As that thought flashed through his mind, Fang Ling changed his approach.

With a tap of his toes and a shift of his body, he plunged headfirst into the dense woods.

In the height of summer, the forest was extremely thick.

The ground was dry, and the terrain was complex—perfect for his level-one body technique.

Furthermore, the dense forest naturally provided cover.

Anyone who bore Fang Ling ill will yet could not catch him quickly was most likely a One-Ring Spirit Master. How much stronger could someone with just one Soul Ring be? He would simply kill him!

Having someone watching him was enough to make him uneasy. If the other side did not die, Fang Ling would never have peace of mind!

Fang Ling ran ahead while the pale-faced young man pursued from behind.

The chaotic branches greatly reduced visibility and obstructed movement.

The pale-faced young man's ears turned into a pair of large bat ears.

He had opened his mouth, revealing two pairs of bloodstained fangs that made his already sickly face look even more sinister.

His Martial Soul was a Bat Spirit. After Martial Soul Possession, he could use Ultrasonic Wave to assist with locating targets.

He was even a One-Ring Spirit Master with a Hundred Year Spirit Ring, yet he could only barely keep pace with this cripple.

He cursed endlessly in his heart.

Why were these branches only blocking me and not him?!

They were just ordinary trees. Could they actually tell people apart?

I already used Martial Soul Possession, and he's still this hard to catch!

He's just a Little Cripple, yet he's as slippery as a monkey.

Finally, after chasing for some time, Fang Ling's speed visibly began to slow.

It looked as though he was about to be unable to run anymore.

Delight appeared on the weak young man's face. "Heh heh, just as expected of a brat. He's out of stamina. You're finally slowing down, huh?"

It looked as though he was about to be unable to run anymore.

The distance between them grew smaller and smaller.

They were almost within arm's reach. Just as he was about to catch up, Fang Ling suddenly turned around, completely outside his expectations.

A sharp sickle gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight. It slipped through the obstruction of countless branches at an extremely tricky angle and slashed toward his chest and abdomen.

He was a Soul Master. His Ultrasonic Wave had detected Little Cripple's attack immediately. He wanted to dodge, and he could have dodged.

The young man instantly tried to retreat, only to be caught by the dense brush.

"Damn it!"

He cursed under his breath and activated his only Yellow Spirit Ring.

The hands covered in grayish-brown fur abruptly lengthened, while the nails at their tips became sharp, keen as small blades.

Clang!

The Scythe Blade collided with the Steel Claw, producing a fierce sound.

With a slight exertion of force, Fang Ling's hand trembled faintly, immediately breaking free of the bind.

After tilting slightly, it slid downward with overwhelming force, its savage momentum aimed directly at severing his fingers.

The young man was so frightened that he hurriedly withdrew his hand.

He's a rookie Soul Master, Fang Ling judged inwardly.

Bat Spirit, pale face, and an especially familiar feeling.

While fleeing, he finally remembered someone.