"Stance skills are the foundation, while breathing techniques are the root. Neither can be lacking. This manual has been altered and cannot be trusted. If we practice it wrong, we might not even know how we die."
One of the Seventh Rank masked martial artists said grimly.
Everyone knew that with Martial Arts Manuals, the slightest deviation could lead a thousand miles astray. Any tiny error within could inflict irreparable damage upon the body.
That was also why no one had paid attention when Skinny Monkey sold manuals in the Black Market.
"Damn it, I'll kill him."
One masked man raised his blade, about to chop Du Chong down and vent the rage in his heart.
Bang!
Zhong Lin knocked his blade aside with an iron caltrop and said coldly, "Fool. If you kill him, how will we complete the manual? You two, take him. We're changing locations."
The only two Eighth Rank martial artists did not dare delay. They seized Du Chong from either side and followed behind Zhong Lin, while the others put away their weapons and hurried after them.
After several leaps, the group entered a secluded courtyard. The place was remote, and the nearby residents had long since fled to the countryside to escape disaster.
"Haha... cough, cough..."
Du Chong was roughly thrown to the ground. By now, he knew that death was certain today, yet he summoned the bearing an elite disciple of a noble family ought to possess.
"You lowborn trash think you can lay hands on my Du Family's Blood Condensation Skill? Even if you capture me, what use is it? I dare ask—do you even dare cultivate it? Hahaha..."
Du Chong laughed wildly, his laughter filled with hysteria—the final madness at the last moment of his life.
The masked men around him