An Unremarkable Left Hand

Ji Boying casually pulled his longsword from the back of the last assassin still standing.

The fifteen assassins, whether their corpses were whole or not, now lay sprawled every which way across the floor of Spring Rain Tower.

Including the two Ji Boying had killed at the start and the one Linghu Chong had just run through, there were eighteen corpses in all, lying on the ground with holes opened in their bodies, blood streaming out.

Spring Rain Tower was not small, and its main hall was fairly spacious.

Yet with eighteen corpses strewn across it, it still seemed somewhat crowded.

The blood on the floor had already flowed into little rivers, with several puddles forming in places.

Ji Boying moved his legs, his footsteps going splat, splat as he crossed the thick blood.

When he reached the area inside, near Linghu Chong's battle, the ground was clean, and several more bloody footprints were stamped upon it.

With a glance, he could see that Linghu Chong was supporting himself with every ounce of his strength.

Lu Dayou stood blankly at the side, helpless and unable to intervene at all.

Linghu Chong's sword movements had become very slight.

After this period of time, his "Xiyi Swordplay" had improved further.

There was no longer much of that hissing sound to be heard, and even the flashes and shadows of the blade had grown quite dim.

Linghu Chong's talent for swordsmanship was still quite high.

But the Fat Shopkeeper's kung fu was clearly a level above Linghu Chong's.

Wielding an Iron Abacus, he could block every one of Linghu Chong's strikes and even send the force back through them, numbing Linghu Chong's hand.

When the Fat Shopkeeper saw Ji Boying's thin blue-cloth robe drenched in blood as he approached with sword in hand, he grew somewhat anxious as well.

He circulated all his power and smashed wildly at Linghu Chong with the Iron Abacus, hoping to force him back and flee at once.

But Linghu Chong had already noticed the shift in the situation.

Though he had been holding on in a miserable state beneath the Fat Shopkeeper's attacks, he now drew upon twelve parts of his strength as well, frantically employing Xiyi Swordplay and using its mysterious, intricate sword forms to entangle the man and prevent him from leaving.

"Brat, get lost. Your grandpa's sparing your life, so don't fail to appreciate kindness!"

The Fat Shopkeeper launched a frenzied assault on Linghu Chong. Linghu Chong's hair hung loose and disheveled, and he gripped Lu Dayou's longsword, its hilt already slick with blood.

The web between his thumb and forefinger had split open, and he was nearly unable to hold the sword anymore.

His body was like duckweed battered by rain, swaying on the verge of collapse amid a violent storm.

Yet whenever the Fat Shopkeeper tried to pause and pull away, Linghu Chong would throw himself back at him without fear of death.

"Huff... huff... You've... seen how formidable my Junior Disciple Brother is, haven't you? Why don't you... why don't you surrender and... confess who's behind this... spare... spare..."

Before Linghu Chong could finish saying that he would spare the man's life, his distraction nearly got his shoulder blade smashed. He rolled across the floor in a miserable scramble.

Linghu Chong was truly filled with deep regret. At that moment, he desperately wanted to know who exactly had set up this killing trap.

The enemy had exploited his weakness to lay a killing trap aimed at his Junior Disciple Brother. It left Linghu Chong utterly ashamed.

Seeing Linghu Chong already beset by peril on every side, Ji Boying did not delay. He sprang forward, sword thrust out, to rescue him.

His basic internal cultivation was excellent; in the few steps it took to walk over, he had already caught his breath.

Moreover, the internal cultivation he practiced was originally a simplified form of breathing. Every breath and exhalation counted as seated meditation and qi cultivation.

Thus, his stamina was long-lasting and he recovered quickly. He had not been injured just now, either, and still retained fifty percent of his strength.

Seeing him rush over, the Fat Shopkeeper's expression turned grave.

He knew this boy's swordsmanship was exquisite, and he had just witnessed that final fierce, peerless, incomparably sharp move of controlling the sword with qi.

If he truly joined forces with Linghu Chong, the Fat Shopkeeper would absolutely come off the worse for it.

What was more—even in a one-on-one fight, a single moment of carelessness could get him killed by this man. This boy truly was a heaven-blessed genius!

No wonder those above had sent so many men, spent so much money, even opened a tavern, and arranged everything over the course of a month. They were not trying to kill Linghu Chong, but a junior disciple who had only entered the sect two months ago.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sparks burst forth as the sharp iron sword collided three times with the heavy Iron Abacus.

The Fat Shopkeeper could not help but suck in another cold breath.

He had already thought highly of this boy, but only when those sword moves descended upon him in person could he feel the biting sword intent within them.

The fierce, overpowering edge of the sword filled the Fat Shopkeeper with fear.

And this boy's internal energy was clearly far deeper than that of his Senior Disciple Brother.

The Fat Shopkeeper stared at Ji Boying's steady right hand.

This boy was truly a freak. It was one thing for his swordsmanship to be so good, but how had he cultivated such deep internal energy in only two months?

Linghu Chong also staggered back to his feet, his longsword pointed at the Fat Shopkeeper. His Xiyi Swordplay likewise gave the Fat Shopkeeper an enormous headache.

Who could have imagined that he, at least a second-rate figure in the martial world—though not among the very peak of the second rate, still someone of standing—would be driven into such a sorry state by two green youngsters?

The Fat Shopkeeper gritted his teeth, a plan already forming in his heart.

If he wanted to claw his way back from death, he had to be ruthless.

He flicked the Iron Abacus in his hand to the right and feinted at Linghu Chong.

The steady Iron Abacus whistled through the air, its iron beads clattering, frightening Linghu Chong into hastily drawing back his sword to defend.

But it was only a feint. He stomped his right foot hard against the ground and suddenly lunged forward.

"Junior Brother, watch out!"

He was clearly coming for Ji Boying.

His plump body charged forward, and the impact of that lump of flesh carried a rather intimidating force.

Ji Boying's gaze turned cold as his longsword shot out sharply.

The Fat Shopkeeper came at him as though completely unguarded. When Ji Boying thrust his sword, he aimed straight for the man's throat.

Yet this man was gambling as well.

He was gambling that Ji Boying would stab for his throat.

The Iron Abacus lay across his throat.

Ji Boying's sword thrust through, piercing straight into the gaps of the Iron Abacus. The iron beads were sent spinning wildly, while the sword edge struck the Iron Abacus in a cascade of sparks.

The Fat Shopkeeper tilted his head right and reached out to twist the abacus.

He meant to wrench Ji Boying's longsword away.

The two rods of his abacus formed a perfect moment arm.

With a fierce twist, even if Ji Boying poured all his inner force into it, he still could not sever an Iron Abacus at such close range.

He could only release his right hand and let the sword hilt spin once in his palm.

The Fat Shopkeeper had used his vital spot as bait to block that strike. He had narrowly escaped death, breaking out in a cold sweat.

But in the end, he had won the gamble.

The inspiration he had just gained from Linghu Chong was that once Mount Hua disciples lost their swords, ninety percent of their skill was gone.

In that instant, Ji Boying's longsword slipped beyond his control, and the Fat Shopkeeper seized the chance to slam his right palm into Ji Boying's wide-open chest.

After the fierce battle, a sheen of oily sweat coated his face.

A delighted smile hung on his fat face, gleaming with oil under the light.

He looked at this Mount Hua genius before him, feebly waving his utterly unremarkable left hand as though a donkey at the end of its tricks.

This vicious Iron Sand Palm of his was about to claim the genius's life.