Ambush, Counterattack

Ambushed, Counterattack

Successfully acquiring Body Technique skills had made up for the last gap in his combat abilities.

If resources were insufficient, there was no point considering body tempering.

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

Now, as long as he integrated and coordinated the Scythe Technique and Body Technique, allowing himself to attack while moving, he would possess a certain foundation in combat.

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 smack rang out, crisp and clear.

He felt ashamed of having such a thought.

He still was not cautious enough!

Of course, traps were best when they could be used.

Cripple them first, then harvest them.

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

Rested against weary, uninjured against wounded—this was his kind of fairness.

After reexamining his thoughts, Fang Ling returned to the right track.

It was time to bathe. He still needed to cultivate afterward, so he could not delay.

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

On the way there, he had stumbled through shallow and deep steps. On the way back, he stepped on tree roots and scattered rocks, easily hopping his way out.

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

A month passed.

Fang Ling had coordinated the Scythe Technique and Body Technique quite well, and his combat skills had begun to take shape.

If he fought Tang San now, then...

Forget it.

But if he fought Wang Sheng, he was confident that the tough fellow 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 in the sky.

He kept to the shade of the trees, carrying a water flask as he headed toward the slaughterhouse with light steps.

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

It was a young man with deathly pale skin, weak and powerless.

He looked as though he had fainted, lying there with his eyes closed, quietly asleep.

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

Familiar?

Fang Ling frowned, instantly becoming alert.

Given that his orphan's life mostly consisted of traveling between the Academy and the slaughterhouse, with the occasional visit to the fatty at the butcher shop, he was certain he had never seen this man before.

Besides, a man lay by the roadside looking like a junkie. Something was not right.

Fang Ling had no intention of checking on him.

Only by having no curiosity and minding one's own business could one live a long life on Douluo Continent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey! Little brother, don't go." The Pale-Faced Man panicked and began tempting him with a reward. "Help me out. Get me back to the city, and I'll pay one Gold Soul Coin."

He took a round golden coin from his pouch.

As though proving that he was not lying.

One Gold Soul Coin!

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

The value didn't match the behavior. There had to be something fishy going on!

Fang Ling's actions exceeded his expectations. Hearing such a bargain, Fang Ling actually retreated even faster.

Sure enough, the moment he backed away, the situation changed.

The Pale-Faced Man's face twitched as he struggled to his feet. "My luck is rotten today, running into such a wary crippled brat."

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

He couldn't be mistaken. Those coarse linen clothes had only two advantages: they were cheap and durable.

Other than laborers and people doing filthy, exhausting work, no one wore such uncomfortable clothes. No normal person would dress like that.

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

But he discovered that even with the boost from his Body Technique, he still couldn't outrun him.

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

The man covered Fang Ling's two steps in one.

But he shouldn't have been that much faster.

If nothing unexpected happened, he was probably a Spirit Master.

Fang Ling's mind raced, yet he couldn't recall ever offending anyone.

He truly had no idea how he had provoked this man.

But things were too urgent to think about that now.

He wasn't fast enough. He would be caught immediately. This wouldn't do—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, he veered sideways and plunged headfirst into the dense woods.

In the height of summer, the forest was thick with vegetation.

The ground was dry, and the terrain was complicated—perfect for his Lv1 Body Technique.

And with the woods so dense, they naturally provided cover.

Someone dared harbor malicious intent toward Fang Ling, yet couldn't catch him in a short time. He was most likely a One-Ring Spirit Master. How much stronger could someone be with just one Spirit Ring? Fang Ling would just kill him outright!

With someone eyeing him like this, Fang Ling couldn't rest easy unless the other party died!

Fang Ling ran ahead while the Pale-Faced Man chased after him.

The tangled branches greatly reduced visibility and hindered movement.

The Pale-Faced Man's ears transformed into a pair of large bat ears.

His mouth had opened, and two pairs of bloodstained fangs made his already frail face appear even more sinister.

His Martial Soul was a Bat Spirit. After using Martial Soul Possession, he could use ultrasound 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 really tell people apart?

I've 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 a while, Fang Ling's speed visibly began to slow.

It looked like he was about to run out of strength.

Delight appeared on the frail young man's face. "Heh heh, just as expected of a brat. Out of stamina already? You've finally slowed down, huh?"

It looked like he was about to run out of strength.

The distance between them grew shorter and shorter.

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

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

He was a Spirit Master. His ultrasound detected the Little Cripple's attack at once. He wanted to dodge, and he could have dodged.

The young man immediately 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 clawed hands covered in grayish-brown fur abruptly lengthened, while the nails at their tips sharpened into edges as keen as knives.

Clang!

The Scythe Blade collided with the Steel Claw with a violent crash.

Fang Ling exerted a little force, his hand trembling slightly as he immediately broke free of the restraints.

After tilting slightly, it swept downward with overwhelming force, its vicious edge 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.

The Bat Spirit, that Pale-Faced Man, and the especially familiar feeling he gave off...

While fleeing, he finally remembered someone.