Chapter 15

The police had already pieced together Bai Lang's movements during this period. They had even visited each of the tour companions from his trip to Japan. Naturally, they had also spoken to the people he had taught in the park, and the videos of Bai Lang practicing martial arts that some had recorded on their phones had been taken by the police as well.

Bai Lang did not mind those people recording videos. He had never cared whether his kung fu would be copied or spread around. Besides, how could he have imagined that barely a month later, he would become a wanted fugitive burdened with homicide charges? And the people watching his videos and studying his information were far more than just the police.

The gathered group included experts in human physiology and kinesiology, as well as experts who studied Chinese martial arts. There were also veterans of practical combat—mainly from certain special departments. Even professional fighters had joined the video analysis. "Based on the information collected so far—the earliest video was obtained from Japan through certain special channels. It showed the target first revealing his 'kung fu' when he saved someone, captured by surveillance footage."

The expert in charge of the presentation paused, allowing the video to finish before switching to footage recorded on a young man's phone. "The suspect—well, let us still call him the suspect, since he has five lives on his hands. His physical capabilities, including striking power and reaction speed, should have reached the limits of human potential. In some respects, they should exceed the upper limits of what a human his size ought to possess. According to testing, when he killed ***" The footage switched to the second victim's portrait and photos of the corpse. "With those two palm strikes, one shattered the entire rib cage, while the other directly crushed the collarbone and broke, compressed the ribs."

The video then switched again to footage from Animal World. In it, a deer had somehow provoked a tiger that was drinking water. Clearly, it was a semi-tame tiger from a zoo or safari park, not particularly wild. Yet in the footage, as though merely playing around, the tiger effortlessly and casually pressed down with one forelimb and snapped the deer's cervical vertebrae.

Everyone immediately felt that suspect Bai Lang had probably killed the second victim just as easily. Then the screen split in two. On one side, Bai Lang was practicing martial arts with meticulous precision. "Sit Golden Palace," the expert on traditional Chinese martial arts murmured. Onscreen, Bai Lang stamped one foot, brought his hands together before his Dantian, then settled downward with the immovable bearing of Mount Tai. It felt as though the entire video had trembled, then been pressed down.

The other side showed photos of the third, fourth, and fifth victims. It gave the same impression as a tiger killing deer or goats—effortless and unhurried. Even through the screen, they could sense that utter disregard for human life. "Sure enough, when one possesses a deadly weapon, the urge to kill arises on its own," someone said. This was exactly the same assessment Bai Lang had made of himself.

"Yes. With strength surpassing the limits of the human body—no matter how you look at it, the force of his killing strike had to be comparable to a tiger's. Even professional boxers cannot produce that kind of power. Based on mechanics and autopsy findings, every strike exceeded one ton of force."

"We have also detained the people those suspects once 'taught' and had them recall what they learned and undergo physical testing. The results put them at the level of ordinary martial arts enthusiasts. At least for now, none of them possesses any kung fu beyond normal standards." The police said the same. "Just how did this man train himself?" the Chinese martial arts expert asked, while the professional fighters and the special department experts could only silently watch Bai Lang practicing onscreen. His figure rose and fell, and the "great dragon" of his spine undulated constantly. Combined with his punches and kicks, it was as though a ferocious tiger standing upright were practicing martial arts.

"We want to know too, but unless we catch him, there is no point discussing anything." Everyone, including the police experts, sighed. Bai Lang's whereabouts were actually clear enough to everyone present—he had certainly gone over mountains and through valleys. But who knew where he had gone? Across tens of thousands of square kilometers, there was simply no way to catch him.

As for the man they were concerned with, Bai Lang was having a rather miserable time in the mountains. A map and a wilderness compass were, at best, barely useful; most of the time, they were a path to death. A compass could malfunction in places with underground iron ore or magnetite, and sometimes it malfunctioned for no apparent reason at all. Bai Lang's map-reading skills were nearly nonexistent. Once he left the towns along the main highways, where he could ask locals for directions, and entered the mountains, he quickly lost all sense of his own position.

The maps in those atlases could only serve as tourist maps or road maps. They were of little use to someone truly out in the wilderness, since they did not mark much of the terrain, water flow directions, and the like. They were not contour maps. The truth was, Bai Lang was lost. All he could do was follow the compass south. As for where exactly he was? Sorry, he had no way of determining that anymore.

He crossed mountains and forded rivers, relying on his martial arts to keep him from major trouble. Resting at night was merely more difficult. Bai Lang avoided making fires whenever possible, afraid of being spotted by any helicopters that might be overhead. The dry rations and water he carried could last for a while if he conserved them. Physical exhaustion was manageable, but the mental fatigue was truly hard to endure.

At this point, Bai Lang's clothes were still mostly intact, but his shoes were nearly ruined. The journey over mountains and across streams had proven that so-called outdoor shoes were unreliable. Outdoor shoes bought for a few hundred yuan were truly unreliable.

Yet wherever his internal energy flowed, his Golden Bell Shield martial arts had improved. Since he constantly needed to direct energy to different parts of his body to avoid injury while climbing, his method of circulating energy had grown ever more proficient. It gradually became an unconscious, instinctive activation. His energy followed his intent without needing special attention, and his internal energy naturally flowed and surged forth.

So although his clothes were gradually becoming ragged and his shoes were already finished, Bai Lang's hands, feet, and body bore almost no wounds. The Golden Bell Shield had indeed made his skin and flesh extremely tough. The thorns of ordinary plants and the mouthparts of insects could no longer pierce his skin. Mountain leeches and giant flower mosquitoes were helpless against him—this was martial arts that could save his life. Who knew how many people had contracted diseases after being bitten by mosquitoes or leeches, only to die in the mountains because they could not receive treatment in time?

Likewise, even Chinese Giant Hornets, those most dangerous wasps widely distributed across Sichuan–Tibet, could not harm him. Bai Lang had also found several wild beehives and tried digging out some honey to use as high-calorie food. "At least I have a compass, so I will not keep going in circles in these mountains." Bai Lang said this loudly, making light of his misery. To overcome his mental fatigue, he had taken to talking loudly to himself.

That was true. With a map and compass, Bai Lang could at least ensure that he was traveling in a straight line. Otherwise, if he kept circling around in the mountains, even with his martial arts, he would probably die in the end.