Chapter 18

Chang'an sighed. "Dao Lang, you went back on your word! I never killed your brother. Look, he's still alive. If you had said that you would kill Little Brother if I dared harm even a single hair on your brother's head, then no matter what, I would never have touched a hair on him. But he insisted on telling me that if I killed him, my brother could forget about living. That was why I felt free to teach him a lesson. How did I fail to heed your warning?!"

At this moment, Chang'an finally understood why this mere assassin knew so much. He was actually the Wild Wolf Society's second-in-command. It was truly beyond all expectation.

Dao Lang's eyes were icy and sinister, killing intent billowing from him.

Chang'an looked toward Little Brother and immediately knew that he had suffered enough. He was covered in wounds, a miserable sight. Guilt rose in Chang'an's heart, and he suddenly turned to Dao Lang. "My brother is also gravely wounded and half dead now. Let's call it even. Dao Lang, you want me. Release my brother, and we'll fight to the death."

Dao Lang sneered. "Fight to the death?"

Chang'an said, "What, are you afraid? Do you need to keep him as a bargaining chip against me?"

Dao Lang threw back his head and laughed wildly. "Ning Family's Chang'an, you're nothing but a turtle trapped in a jar now. Why would I need a bargaining chip?" With a sweep of the saber in his hand, the ropes around Little Brother snapped apart. Dao Lang sneered. "Ning Family's Chang'an, you're dead for certain, but I won't let you die easily. I'll torture you to death bit by bit."

Chang'an looked at Little Brother. "Little Brother, lend me your iron staff. Get out of here quickly. We'll meet again if fate allows it. When that day comes, we'll drink until we're both flat on our backs."

Little Brother forced a smile. "You shouldn't have come. My life is actually pretty tough."

Chang'an said, "Mine is tough too. I won't die so easily. Go, quickly."

Little Brother staggered and stumbled out of the little courtyard.

Dao Lang shouted deeply, "Kill!"

But Chang'an had already moved, charging straight for the three burly men in yellow holding steel crossbows. The iron staff in his hand drove forward with unstoppable force, fierce and decisive. Those three steel crossbows were the greatest threat, even greater than Dao Lang himself.

Dao Lang gave a cold laugh. "Wishful thinking!"

The Ghost Head Saber in his hand swept out sideways. A flash of saber light appeared, its movements savage and powerful, blocking the path of Chang'an's iron staff.

Chang'an suddenly spun around, took a fierce step forward, and seized the Wild Wolf Society's second-in-command with one hand.

Dao Lang froze, then roared, "Damn it!"

Chang'an threatened, "Put down the crossbows!"

A savage grin suddenly spread across Dao Lang's face. The Ghost Head Saber in his hand slashed out abruptly. With a crack, the second-in-command's head flew into the air. It gave Chang'an such a fright that he hurriedly darted aside, barely evading Dao Lang's vicious slash.

The sight left Chang'an drenched in cold sweat.

This Dao Lang was truly vicious of heart and cruel in his methods, enough to make one's hair stand on end. He was no different from an evil wolf or wild beast. He even killed his own sworn brother without the slightest warning, so decisive and utterly devoid of pity.

Before Chang'an had recovered from the shock, he heard the sound of steel crossbows firing.

Dao Lang grinned viciously. "Ning Family's Chang'an, didn't expect that, did you?!"

Chang'an flashed repeatedly, but a tremendous pain tore through his shoulder. A refined steel arrowhead had pierced through his shoulder bone and passed clean through. Blood gushed out in streams like water from a spring.

Chang'an's face turned pale from the pain. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I truly did not."

Only now did he understand that the world of assassins differed vastly from that of ordinary people. At the very least, assassins were far more ruthless and heartless than normal men. He had suffered a great loss because of it.

Dao Lang shouted, "Brothers, attack together! Chop him to pieces!"

All the Wild Wolf Society members immediately closed in with orderly coordination, their killing intent surging. Their auras linked together as they formed a battle formation—an assault formation. Judging by the way they moved, they had clearly drilled it for a long time.

Trapped within the formation, Chang'an felt waves of pressure bearing down on him. Dao Lang's momentum reached its peak as he roared wildly, "Ning Family's Chang'an, who do you think you are? Do you think you can take on a hundred alone? Since you dared step into this courtyard, don't even dream of walking out again. This combined assault formation has been painstakingly trained by my Wild Wolf Society for a long time. You're the perfect one to test it on!"

As soon as Dao Lang finished speaking, he charged in first with his saber. The Ghost Head Saber in his hand opened and closed in grand sweeps, bright saber light flashing chaotically as it completely enveloped Chang'an.

Enduring the searing pain, Chang'an stared fixedly at the saber in Dao Lang's hand.

To capture bandits, first capture their king. As long as Dao Lang fell, the rest would be nothing more than a rabble. Without a leader, they would naturally become a scattered heap of sand.

Most small gangs in the martial world were like this.

The instant Dao Lang's saber slashed before Chang'an's face, Chang'an suddenly moved. The iron staff in his hand thrust forward from a bizarre angle. In that instant, Dao Lang's movements slowed by half in Chang'an's eyes, revealing three flaws in his saber technique. Chang'an struck in an instant, attacking the most fatal of them.

Perhaps even Dao Lang himself had never noticed that flaw.

Those who practiced martial arts generally spent their entire lives immersed in the study of martial arts and techniques. Beyond longing for superior martial arts and superior mental cultivation methods, they had two other hopes. The first was to see through the fixed patterns of martial arts, gradually correcting the flaws in every move until they reached a state of perfect harmony without limit. At that realm, even an inferior external art could rival peerless Qi Gong or even essence cultivation. When fighting others, one could rely on moves as natural as heaven itself, every strike overcoming the enemy, while one's own body contained no flaw at all, achieving an invincible stance. This was what martial artists often called reaching the height of perfection, scaling the peak. The second hope was to study the martial arts of every school, comprehend the mysteries and flaws within their techniques, broaden one's experience, and cultivate a pair of keen eyes like fiery golden eyes. With a single glance, one could spot the flaw in an opponent's move and defeat them in one strike. It was incomparably difficult for martial artists to achieve either of these hopes. Most could not do so; even after exhausting their entire lives, they could only remain trapped within fixed techniques and accomplish nothing. Whether one meticulously studied martial arts to improve one's moves or drew upon the strengths of every school to broaden one's knowledge, it required outstanding talent and extraordinary comprehension. Yet talent and comprehension alone were not enough. One also needed immense perseverance, traveling the world, broadening one's horizons, and accumulating real combat experience. Only then was success possible.

Before Chang'an had descended the mountain, Yang Qingling had often taught and trained him in this manner. With the wealth of experience and broad knowledge of Yang Qingling and Yang Taiyi, coupled with Chang'an's many trials after descending the mountain, he had already begun to develop this unique eye. Moreover, the Three Pure Ones Nine Netherworlds Wondrous Dharma Lotus Heart Sutra seemed to give him a vague, unseen intuition. Chang'an could not completely see through an enemy's techniques at a glance, but when it came to the martial arts moves of ordinary first-rate martial world experts, spotting several flaws was no difficult task.

Thus, the moment Chang'an thrust out that staff, Dao Lang cried out strangely in fright. Dao Lang could only watch helplessly as his move missed, then Chang'an's staff struck his exposed ribs, jolting his internal organs as though they had shifted out of place.

Pain made Dao Lang's muscular body curl up. He bared his teeth and grimaced like a giant shrimp.

Having succeeded with one move, Chang'an brought the iron staff crashing down upon Dao Lang's head. Dao Lang was so terrified that his soul nearly fled his body. He hurriedly raised his saber to block, but Chang'an's iron staff had already fallen, smashing Dao Lang to the ground with a thud and leaving him dusty and disheveled. Just as his entire body jolted and he tried to rise, an iron staff drove straight down through his back.

Dao Lang let out a miserable scream. His limbs jerked straight, and scarlet blood poured from his mouth.

Chang'an planted one foot on Dao Lang's head, yanked out the iron staff, and shouted coldly, "Whoever wants to die, come!"

In no more than the blink of an eye, Dao Lang was dead. None of the Wild Wolf Society members had even reacted. All they saw was Chang'an stomping their leader beneath his foot, and as the pungent stench of blood reached them, everyone froze, a chill rising in their hearts.

Those three burly men in yellow were likely Dao Lang's trusted aides. They immediately roared, "Kill!"

Three refined steel crossbow bolts shot through the air.

Chang'an flicked the iron staff in his hand, sending Dao Lang's corpse on the ground flying up to shield him.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

The three crossbow bolts embedded themselves in Dao Lang's body, blasting three bloody holes through his chest and skull. Dao Lang, not yet completely dead, let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered before collapsing limply to the ground. Only then did he breathe his last.

The three burly men in yellow went pale, already at a loss for what to do.

In that instant, Chang'an darted out, the iron staff in his hand striking like thunder and lightning.

Three muffled groans rang out almost simultaneously. The skulls of the three burly men in yellow split open at the same time like bursting melons. They swayed twice, then fell to the ground like empty leather sacks.

Chang'an had barely steadied himself when he gripped the iron staff and swept a cold glance around. He let out a thunderous shout. Under the pressure of his aura, everyone retreated a step in unison, their eyes filled with terror, not daring to act rashly. Chang'an snorted coldly and strode away.

At the fourth watch of the Tiger hour, Chang'an walked out of Ferryman's little courtyard. Outside, Chasing Lightning pawed lightly at the ground with all four hooves and snorted. Chang'an mounted in one smooth motion, tore off a strip of his sleeve, and tightly wrapped it around his shoulder, temporarily stopping the bleeding.

Just as Chang'an was about to spur his horse away, a patch of cold light suddenly reflected onto his face. A clear, chilly voice slowly rang out. "Ning Family's Chang'an, your life truly is tough."

Chang'an followed the voice and looked closely, only to see someone seated atop a distant roof. A blade of grass hung from his mouth as he slowly chewed it. He wore a bamboo conical hat pulled low over his face and held a long sword in his arms.

Sitting there, he looked lonely yet unyielding.

Chang'an's eyes narrowed slightly as he said in a deep voice, "Green Bamboo Swordsman?!"

The person on the roof slowly rose. He was lean and stood straight as a slender bamboo stalk. He held a sword in one hand and kept the other behind his back. His green robes fluttered loudly, as though the wind atop that roof was fierce—not only fierce, but cold.

Yet Chang'an knew that there was no wind at all. And the spring breeze was gentle; it would never feel cold.

That was the Green Bamboo Swordsman's killing intent.

The Green Bamboo Swordsman said, "That's right. I am the Green Bamboo Swordsman. I never expected the Wild Wolf Society to be so incapable. Even equipped with steel crossbows, they could not deal with you. In the end, I still have to clean up the mess."

Chang'an sighed. "A hero should not do such things!"

A hero should not do the work of wiping someone else's ass, much less bend his back for five pecks of rice.

The Green Bamboo Swordsman sighed as well. "Heroes are people too. As long as people live, they cannot go without money! Ning Family's Chang'an, your name is already foul beyond measure. If I kill you, it will not damage my reputation! You are destined not to live past the Rabbit hour."

Chang'an suddenly said, "Bamboo stands lofty and upright, preferring to break rather than bend. Green Bamboo Swordsman, you bear bamboo in your name and hold no low standing in the martial world, yet you too bend your back for five pecks of rice, chasing money and profit like ducks to crumbs. You disgrace the name of hero. Hmph, so this is all you amount to! I, Ning Family's Chang'an, stand straight and fear no crooked shadow. Why would I fear you? Come, let me see just how much skill your Bamboo Rhyme Swordplay truly possesses!"