Chapter 27

A person's eyes were the most fragile, delicate part of the body. No matter how formidable an Iron Crotch Master was, he could never temper a pair of eyeballs into something indestructible as diamond.

Xiang Yang's finger strike hit Hu Qiang in both eyes. His tear ducts stung, tears poured forth, and the pain was unbearable. He curled up, clutching his eyes and howling.

Seeing this, Xiang Yang was overjoyed. He leaped over, cut Hu Qiang's wrists and ankles to bleed him, then knocked out the four women one by one beneath their terrified gazes, without holding back.

"Yang Xiang, it's you. I remember you. Why did you ambush me? Our Black Wind Mountain Stronghold has already let Miss Zhou down the mountain. Did Zhou Fugui pay you to kill me? Don't worry—no matter how much he offered, I'll give you twice that. Just don't harm my life."

Hu Qiang possessed Divine Power from birth. He was huge and fierce-looking, and Xiang Yang had thought him a truly tough man. Yet the moment he fell into Xiang Yang's hands, with the cold, rough edge of the woodcutter's blade pressed against his neck, he immediately begged in a low voice. He lowered his posture without hesitation—a man who knew when to bend and when to stand tall.

The pain in Hu Qiang's eyes had eased slightly by now. He blinked his tear-filled eyes at Xiang Yang, who held the knife to his throat, and forced out a flattering smile.

"Brother Yang, rest assured. As long as you let me go, you'll be my brother from now on. You'll enjoy endless glory and riches. I can even make you the leader of the Giant Bear Gang, free to run rampant through an entire county."

Xiang Yang smiled, revealing white teeth stained with a trace of blood. Yet he still looked harmless. Shaking his head, he tightened his grip and said softly, "Hu Qiang, we have never crossed paths, and I had no intention of dealing with you. I was entrusted to ask you a few questions this time. If you answer well and explain things clearly, I'll turn around and leave at once. I won't kill you."

Hearing Xiang Yang's words, Hu Qiang relaxed even more and nodded repeatedly. "Ask away, ask away. I'll tell you everything I know and hold nothing back."

"I'm asking you: who plotted to have you kill Xiang Da Niu? Tell me, and I'll spare you."

"Xiang Da Niu? Why are you asking about him? He was only some minor county constable. If he hadn't meddled in other people's affairs, I wouldn't even have spared him a glance. No one told me to kill him. He was simply unlucky enough to run into my blade."

Hu Qiang spoke cautiously, and it sounded as though he was telling the truth. Yet his right hand clenched hard around the bedding beneath him, his pupils drifted toward the upper right, and his breathing grew far more rapid. Xiang Yang sneered inwardly.

With a soft thunk, Xiang Yang casually tore off a small piece of the quilt spread over the earthen bed. Beneath Hu Qiang's horrified gaze, he stuffed it over his mouth, then held the woodcutter's knife in his right hand and chopped off Hu Qiang's right pinky with astonishing precision. Blood immediately gushed out, and the pain pierced Hu Qiang to the bone.

Hu Qiang struggled with all his might, reacting so violently that he nearly threw Xiang Yang off. Fortunately, Xiang Yang had already cut Hu Qiang's limbs to bleed him. He barely managed to hold him down, covering Hu Qiang's mouth with one hand while pressing the knife tip to his throat with the other. Hu Qiang could only whimper softly in terror and pain, no longer daring to exert himself in resistance.

"This was the first time you lied. I cut off one of your little fingers as punishment. If there's a next time, I'll cut off another finger.

"You still have nine fingers, ten toes, two arms, two thighs—and of course, your fifth limb. You're well-endowed, aren't you? Keep lying. I have plenty of time. We can take this slowly. I'm in no hurry."

Xiang Yang was half-crouched over Hu Qiang. The wound on Hu Qiang's chest beneath Xiang Yang's right foot had split open again, blood seeping out. Hu Qiang's eyes hurt, his chest hurt, his limbs hurt—but worst of all was the place where his right pinky had been chopped off.

Xiang Yang wore a smile like that of an innocent youth, but to Hu Qiang, he was more terrifying than a demon. Was this really a boy barely in his teens? And that humility he had shown at the stronghold that day—had it all been an act?

Hu Qiang regretted it bitterly. He regretted not cutting down this little bastard with one stroke back on Black Mountain. Now he was covered in wounds, and had even lost his little finger, becoming crippled.

A fine layer of sweat had appeared on Xiang Yang's face as well. Seeing that Hu Qiang seemed to have recovered somewhat from the initial agony, he moved the cloth away slightly, allowing Hu Qiang to gasp out several rough breaths.

"I don't know. I truly don't know who that person is. I was only acting on someone's orders. I'll tell you everything."

Enduring the pain, Hu Qiang spilled every last detail like beans from a sieve, not daring to conceal even the slightest thing. As he spoke, he kept glancing at Xiang Yang's face, dark as still water, terrified that if he did not say enough, another finger would be chopped off.

Hu Qiang had seen plenty of people who talked tough. They bragged every day about how powerful they were and how ruthless their hearts were, yet they were all just showpieces—complete cowards.

But Xiang Yang was clearly not that kind of person. He acted first and spoke afterward. Once he had acted, his words carried far greater weight. Hu Qiang had no desire to be carved into a human stick in the end. That would be more terrifying than death itself.

As Xiang Yang listened to Hu Qiang, the surprise in his eyes deepened, while clouds of doubt piled up in his heart one after another.

It turned out that although Hu Qiang seemed impressive and glamorous as the third chief of Black Wind Mountain Stronghold, he was in truth merely a bottom-level member of a massive organization—little more than trash.

Hu Qiang belonged to the organization's lowest ranks. Whenever he handled work for this force, someone specialized would contact them, serving as their handler. Yet whenever Hu Qiang met this person, the man was masked, so Hu Qiang had no idea who he truly was.

After completing a mission, this handler would provide Hu Qiang with a medicinal agent. Soaking in it would forge a body of fierce strength. Hu Qiang did not possess Divine Power from birth at all; like Xiang Yang, his immense strength had been acquired later.

Still, though Hu Qiang had never seen the man's face over all these years, he had formed several suspects based on the man's build, accent, and familiarity with Anyuan County.

The first was Wang Ying, head constable of Anyuan County. The second was Steward Fang, the house steward of Magistrate Li of Anyuan County. The third was Qian Fu, the only son of Old Hero Qian of the Fierce Tiger Martial Arts Hall. He held the nominal position of instructor at the County Yamen, making him half a yamen man himself.

"That was the person who told me to kill Xiang Da Niu. I've told you everything I know. Yang Xiang—Little Brother Yang, please spare me."

Hu Qiang's face was deathly pale, his lips cracked, and his eyes pleaded faintly. By now, he had lost at least three small bags of blood—equivalent to six hundred milliliters. If not for his extraordinary physique, he would already have passed out. Even so, he was on the verge of collapse.

"Hm? Hu Qiang, after roaming the world for so many years, you're still this naive. Letting you go is impossible. You should be begging me to give you a quick death.

"And you should not call me Yang Xiang. My surname is Xiang, my given name Yang. Xiang Da Niu, the man you killed, was my father. The hatred of killing one's father cannot exist beneath the same sky. Go on ahead. Before long, I'll send the one behind it all down to meet you."

As soon as the words fell, Xiang Yang raised his hand and brought the knife down. He had intended to sever Hu Qiang's head in a single stroke, but the woodcutter's knife was not sharp enough and got stuck halfway through. He had to chop twice more before the head finally came off.

Before his death, a flash of realization surfaced in Hu Qiang's heart. Yang Xiang—reversed, wasn't that Xiang Yang? And judging from the questions he had asked, Hu Qiang should have figured it out long ago. A son avenging his father was only right and proper. He had not died unjustly.