Man Like a Dragon, Spear Like a Ghost!

Crack.

An extremely faint sound.

Though the sound was exceedingly slight, it was perfectly clear in the silent dead of night.

"Who?!"

Ma Liu, who had been standing in the courtyard with his saber propped against the ground, abruptly whipped around and stared fiercely toward the courtyard gate, letting out a loud shout.

Bang!

Almost in the very next instant.

The heavy door bolt snapped cleanly in the middle, and the tightly shut courtyard gate flew open!

Outside the courtyard, beneath the night sky, more than a dozen figures stepped methodically inside, each holding a sharp weapon. Their blades glimmered with cold light beneath the moon, and a bone-piercing chill quietly seeped through the entire courtyard.

"You!"

Ma Liu's expression changed.

He was no stranger to the world. Looking at the scene before him, how could he fail to recognize where these people had come from? They were clearly no rooftop-leaping thieves, but a band of vicious brigands—most likely the group that had been wanted some time ago!

Bang, bang, bang.

Almost at the same time.

The doors on the eastern and western sides of the courtyard, as well as the main hall door, were all pushed open from within. Hu Yong, holding a ring-hilted saber, Sun Wang, gripping a longsword, and Wu Ming, carrying the Crimson Python Spear, stepped out together.

"Rivers and mountains meet again. Could you gentlemen let us pass tonight?"

Hu Yong's face was grim and heavy as he gripped his ring-hilted saber and spoke in a deep voice to the twelve black shadows entering the courtyard.

"We take the goods."

"We kill the people."

The leading figure among the twelve black shadows spoke indifferently.

Hu Yong, Sun Wang, Ma Liu, and the others felt their hearts sink to the bottom. They knew they were in serious trouble tonight. Fortunately, as martial artists who had all been baptized in blood before, they could barely maintain their composure.

But there were only four of them. How could they withstand twelve vicious bandits?

With such a vast disparity in overall strength, the bandits had no intention of avoiding battle. They intended to slaughter them all, reducing as much as possible the chance that their identities would be exposed.

Under the night sky.

Sixteen people stood in the courtyard, facing one another from afar. For a moment, the atmosphere in the entire courtyard seemed to plunge to freezing point. After a brief silence, the bandits launched their attack with savage force.

"Finish this quickly!"

Someone said it in a low voice.

Three figures among the bandits erupted with powerful Blood Qi, directly revealing Second Blood Forging cultivation. Together, they charged Hu Yong, who held the ring-hilted saber, surrounding and attacking him in concert.

The remaining nine figures split into three groups of three, charging respectively toward Sun Wang, Ma Liu, and Wu Ming.

For a moment,

A biting wind swept through the courtyard, and killing intent surged like a tide!

When cultivation levels were comparable, fighting one against two was already extremely difficult. One against three was practically a swift defeat; often, one could not last more than a few exchanges before being slain on the spot.

Zhao Hong held a single-edged saber as he attacked Wu Ming head-on.

Looking at the youthful-faced martial artist before him, who was no more than twenty at most, he seemed to see his younger self. Yet his attack showed not the slightest mercy; there was only indifference in his heart.

"Kid, blame your bad luck."

The other two attacked from the left and right, flanking him from both sides, each taking a line of attack with equally cold gazes.

Among the martial artists guarding the courtyard, Wu Ming was the youngest and would certainly be the easiest to deal with. They would probably finish him in just a few moves.

"Three against one?"

Looking at the situation before him, Wu Ming knew that this was the first true crisis he had encountered since becoming a Blood Forging martial artist. The killing intent filling the courtyard and the bone-deep chill all reminded him that these were vicious bandits fighting with their lives on the line!

If he could not defeat them, he would die!

For an ordinary martial artist, even if he had made countless mental preparations, when truly facing a life-and-death crisis for the first time, his heart would inevitably tremble. The Blood Qi throughout his body would surge, stimulating his brain as though he had been immersed in icy water during the dog days of summer.

It was the instinct of the human body.

In severe cases, one's hands and feet could even turn cold, one's body stiffen, movements slow, or breathing become difficult.

But at this moment, Wu Ming's heart was absolutely calm. He knew that if he delayed even slightly, Sun Wang and the others would likely be dead or injured within a few moves. Then he himself would face a siege from the rest.

The situation was dire, and there was not a moment to lose. He had to break the deadlock immediately!

Holding the Crimson Serpent Spear, Wu Ming faced Zhao Hong and the other two as they attacked. He immediately unleashed Sweeping Army, using the length advantage of his spear to force all three men back a step. Then, instead of retreating, he advanced and thrust his spear at one of them!

The spear gleam was icy, tearing through the air.

Splat.

Blood sprayed!

Zhao Hong gripped his saber, his eyes suddenly widening as he stared fixedly at Wu Ming. His gaze still held a trace of disbelief.

He staggered back several steps, his right hand instinctively reaching for his throat. But all he touched was warmth and wetness—the blood spraying forth, instantly staining his clothes red and leaving plum blossom-like specks upon the bluestone paving beneath the night sky.

"How could this be..."

Zhao Hong could not understand.

He had clearly raised his saber to block at the first instant while twisting aside to evade, yet the spear had followed him like a shadow. His block and evasion had been utterly useless. It was as though, along the very path of his retreat, a single thrust had directly pierced his throat!

That spear technique should have been the Falling Leaf Spear Technique, but how could it be used so strangely? It was simply like a ghost!

He had never seen such an opponent in his life, much less such an eerie spear technique. And the one wielding it was merely a young man who appeared no older than twenty, someone who had only just glimpsed the path of martial arts!

He had made a living killing and plundering, licking blood from the edge of his blade. He had long imagined how he might die, but never had he imagined that he would die here—so easily, so suddenly, so incomprehensibly.

"Old Zhao!"

"This..."

This sudden turn of events caused the other two men besieging Wu Ming to change expression drastically, their faces filled with disbelief.

Wu Ming's Blood Qi was only at the level of First Blood Forging. The three of them had joined forces; even a Second Blood Forging expert could not possibly kill one of them in a single move during such a brief opening. That thrust just now was utterly inconceivable!

However.

The two were, after all, vicious bandits who lived by licking blood from their blades. Though this sudden change had struck them, their reactions were not slowed in the slightest. At once, they still raised their weapons and attacked Wu Ming from the left and right.

Wu Ming had just pierced Zhao Hong's throat with that bizarre thrust, but he had forced that strike through an opening. His left and right sides were completely exposed, full of flaws.

Yet.

Facing the pincer attack of the two great bandits, Wu Ming's expression remained as calm as still water. There was not the slightest ripple in his gaze, as though he faced not a life-and-death crisis, but merely an everyday sparring match.

Amid the converging blade lights, he leaped into the air. Gripping the Crimson Serpent Spear, his body and spear formed a single line as he spun in a strange yet nimble motion, almost brushing through the gap to evade a saber strike from above and a sword shadow slashing from below.

After spinning half a circle in midair and evading the two attacks, Wu Ming had yet to land, but his spear had already drawn back. Borrowing the force of his waist, he gave a fierce thrust, power running through the spear shaft as he sent it stabbing diagonally outward.

This was Direct Strike, originally a move performed while standing upright. Yet he had thrust it out from the narrow gap of his midair spin and evasion, clearly displaying his fully integrated spear technique.

"Not good."

The bandit locked onto by Wu Ming's spear felt a penetrating chill rise through his heart.

The moment their joint saber attack had missed, he had known something was wrong. Now, facing Wu Ming's counterattack as he evaded, he could only alter his move at once, swinging his saber downward while leaping off the ground and using Mount Tai Press.

This evasive move was grand and upright, displaying the saber technique of someone seasoned through countless battles, at the level of complete mastery. By all rights, there was no way Wu Ming's spear thrust could fail to be avoided.

But.

In the next instant.

As if he had anticipated it long ago, Wu Ming's eyes remained utterly calm. His spear was still thrusting forward, his right arm extended and his left hand drawn inward. Instead, he borrowed the opponent's Mount Tai Press saber momentum, shaking the spear so that its angle changed from a level thrust into a curving upward stab.

Splat.

Blood sprayed again.

Wu Ming and the bandit landed at the same time. The difference was that Wu Ming rolled as he hit the ground, then sprang nimbly back up, while the bandit crashed heavily onto the ground. His right hand clutched his throat, blood gushing through his fingers, his eyes filled with disbelief.

What kind of move was that?!

His force was clearly no stronger than the bandit's, and the move itself did not appear particularly profound. At most, it was only at the level of complete mastery, certainly not the Unity Realm. Yet midway through, he had changed his move according to the bandit's defense, forcibly tearing open his guard from an incomparably strange angle!

Clutching his throat, he collapsed in a pool of blood. His life force gradually dissipated, and the light faded from his eyes. Until his death, the scene that kept flashing through his mind was that eerie, diagonally lifting thrust.

Man like a dragon, spear like a ghost.

Two spear strikes, two lives claimed!

The third man besieging Wu Ming watched this scene and finally trembled in fear. In horror, he cried:

"Someone! There's something wrong with this kid!"