A Ferocious Battle

"This kid's a real handful! How could he have trained for only two months?"

A bearded man wielding a short spear shouted loudly, utterly unable to believe it.

"The intelligence is correct. He has indeed trained for two months."

A man dressed like a scholar held a Judge's Brush in his hand. He looked rather effeminate, yet the viciousness in his gaze did not diminish in the slightest.

"Don't forget, Old Yue only came down the mountain three months ago. He truly is a genuine prodigy!"

"Heh heh... A prodigy? This old man kills prodigies."

A square-faced man wielding a broadsword viciously slashed at Ji Boying.

Though these people talked as they fought, the moment one of them made his move, the others joined in as well, attacking Ji Boying together.

Some struck at Ji Boying's chest and abdomen, some chopped at his head, while others targeted his lower body.

Their coordination was flawless, every move vicious. Gusts of foul wind swept toward Ji Boying.

Ji Boying mobilized all his inner force, sending it coursing back and forth through his meridians.

He concentrated with every ounce of his spirit, not daring to let down his guard in the slightest.

With a casual slash, he first blocked the Judge's Brush stabbing toward his Tanzhong Acupoint.

His feet stepped in rapid succession, and like a nimble swallow, his body drifted to the left.

"Don't run, brat! Be good and let your grandpa chop you once."

The broadsword-wielding man roared fiercely, launching a reckless, savage assault at Ji Boying.

Ji Boying narrowed his eyes.

With a sudden twist of his waist and abdomen, he abruptly reversed direction. His feet stamped hard against the ground as he lunged forward with explosive speed.

White Rainbow Piercing the Sun shot out, swift and ingenious.

With only a hiss, the longsword sank into flesh, stabbing diagonally into his throat and severing the blood vessels in his neck.

Ji Boying swiftly drew his sword and retreated, his body drifting backward again.

A beautiful mist of blood was drawn from the sword tip, scattering through the air and obscuring everyone's vision, veiling their eyes behind a red gauze curtain.

"Old Ninth!"

The bearded man's eyes nearly split open as he let out a furious roar.

His eyes were wide, and Old Ninth's were no less wide.

The heavy broadsword in his hand clanged to the floor, while bloody mist continued spraying from his throat.

His body crashed heavily backward, yet his eyes remained wide open.

As though he could not believe why that sword strike had been so swift and so ingenious.

"Eleven left!"

Ji Boying counted silently in his heart.

Though vigilant, he felt not the slightest fear. His heart was cold as iron, with a thrill hidden beneath it.

Hiss!

As if repeating the same old trick, White Rainbow Piercing the Sun stabbed diagonally upward once more.

The bearded man, who had lost his composure, was pierced through the jaw.

The sword tip sank into his unkempt beard. Blood soaked it, streaming down in strand after strand.

Ten!

"What are you still dawdling for? That brat has already taken out five of our men—why aren't you getting moving?"

The portly shopkeeper watched in furious frustration.

What had seemed a sure thing had instead cost them men again and again.

Taking advantage of the moment he spoke, Linghu Chong suddenly drew his sword and launched a fierce attack.

The shopkeeper was enraged as well, swinging the Iron Abacus in his hand down at Linghu Chong.

The assassins were also stunned by the sharpness of Ji Boying's swordsmanship, and none of them dared approach him lightly.

The effeminate man holding the Judge's Brush conceived a poisonous scheme.

He lashed out with a kick, sending a heavy solid-wood table flying up before him. Its thick tabletop came crashing down over Ji Boying!

Everyone's eyes lit up, and they pounced forward together, attacking Ji Boying.

Ji Boying held only a thin iron sword. How could he knock aside such a heavy solid-wood table? If he met it head-on with his longsword, the blade would surely snap.

The broad tabletop also blocked Ji Boying's vision, leaving him unable to tell where to swing his sword.

A great axe came hurtling in from the right, carrying a fierce gale as it prepared to cleave Ji Boying's body in two.

Left with no choice, Ji Boying drew back his longsword.

He swiftly extended his right hand and met the tabletop head-on, his inner force surging and withdrawing as he brought the table to a halt.

Then, with all his strength, he flung it to the right, sending the heavy wooden table smashing toward the iron axe.

Even a heavy iron axe could do nothing against the thick tabletop. One blow only hacked out a notch; it could not split the table apart.

The wielder's body was also rocked by the tremendous force.

Men rushed in from the center, left, and right.

Ji Boying slipped right with the momentum.

His left hand pressed down on the iron axe. It had just been pulled from the tabletop, before its wielder could muster fresh strength. Ji Boying channeled his power and forced it back into the table, widening the notch even further.

Ji Boying then used the momentum to perform a somersault, flipping over the axe-wielding man's head and landing behind him.

The man was just reaching out to seize Ji Boying by the collar.

Ji Boying circulated his qi and swung his sword.

Sword light flashed. A bloody mist filled the air, and severed limbs flew skyward.

One of the axe-wielding man's hands was sliced clean from his body, yet he did not let out a single scream.

Because his head, too, was already spinning through the air amid a spray of blood. The ferocity in his eyes had vanished; all that remained was terror.

Nine!

Ji Boying took a breath, flicked the blood mist from his iron sword, and stared coldly at the group of killers before him.

Though these killers still looked fierce and savage, not one of them dared meet Ji Boying's gaze.

Whenever Ji Boying's eyes swept over them, their hair stood on end and a chill ran through them.

These men no longer dared underestimate Ji Boying, who had trained in martial arts for only two months. Yet when it came time to attack again, they could not help shrinking back.

They looked at one another. A band of vicious-looking men, yet not one dared step forward first.

Seeing their reactions, Ji Boying's stern face revealed a faint smile.

Yet that smile was so cold, so contemptuous, so mocking.

"What, you're afraid? If you're afraid, then stop. I've killed a few of you already—I'm satisfied enough. Get out of the way obediently, and I can spare your lives."

Those words enraged the vicious men.

Or rather, it was not rage so much as shame turning into fury, because Ji Boying had exposed what was in their hearts.

Though Ji Boying was tall and broad, everyone who had come had intelligence on him. They knew he was merely a youth—a youth who had trained in martial arts for only two months.

With so many people present, who would admit they were truly afraid?

"Brat! Don't get cocky!"

One man cursed loudly, his face flushed red.

Ji Boying pointed his longsword at him.

Everyone else looked to him as well, waiting for him to charge.

But he only moved half a foot forward before drawing it back, his body swaying back and forth.

With his head cocked to one side, he kept signaling to those on his left and right to attack together.

Yet those people merely continued swaying forward.

They swayed and swayed, but not one of them managed to sway even a single step closer.

Suddenly, a solid wooden stool was hurled out.

Empowered by inner force, it carried a vicious wind.

The men were roused once more. One after another, they excitedly grabbed stools and tables beside them and threw them at Ji Boying.