Chapter 20

This style of Long Fist was commonly known as Telephone Fist. It was a classical technique: you squared up, drew back, then punched straight forward. It was utterly lacking in concealment—in effect, you told your opponent you were about to hit them, and where you were going to hit them, before you even threw the punch. That was why it was called Telephone Fist. In modern professional fights, it usually wouldn't land. But right now, someone was advancing behind a shield.

The punch slammed into the Cowhide Shield. It used the power of a shock, and the moment it landed, the man holding the shield felt both his hands go numb. The straps securing the shield snapped, and the man himself was knocked flying backward—yet the shield remained where it was, serving its purpose quite effectively. It blocked not only Bai Lang, but also the path of the two knife-wielders.

Bai Lang hunched slightly, then sprang forward like a tiger. One hand formed a tiger claw, and as he lunged, he raked it out. This was the true intent of the Tiger Form: uniting the body, spirit, and energy as one, so that he struck and tore with his claws like a ferocious tiger.

The professional fighter with the knife was out of luck. The terrain meant he had to face Bai Lang alone during this lunge. He was a professional, after all. Even with what looked like a tiger pouncing at him, instinct still made him raise his knife and stab. It was a tactic meant to take them both down—and the underground knife-fighters here had plenty of fighting spirit. They were all a ruthless bunch.

It made sense. Life was hard. How could you get ahead without being ruthless?

The length of the knife, added to the length of the man's arm, gave him a slight reach advantage over Bai Lang. Judging by their relative speed, he should have stabbed Bai Lang first, after which Bai Lang's claw would have done who knew what to him. That was how it should have gone. But Bai Lang turned his tiger claw into a palm and struck, hitting the inside of the knife-wielder's arm with tremendous force. A crack rang out as the man's arm was knocked outward.

His arm twisted at an unnatural angle. It looked completely ruined; even the best orthopedic surgeon probably couldn't save it. It was also a bloody mess. Bai Lang's claw had raked across the arm, leaving four deep gashes. The flesh was peeled open, deep enough to expose bone.

The next instant, Bai Lang accelerated again. He put everything into his light-footed Flight Over Grass technique and closed the distance in a single step, entering the knife-wielder's centerline. Then he drove out his left fist. The Exploding Fist struck the man squarely in the chest and sent him flying. As he flew, blood and fragments of internal organs sprayed from his mouth. His chest had caved in completely; the bones inside must have been mashed together with his lungs and heart. He hit the wall behind him and was clearly beyond saving.

Bai Lang used the recoil from that punch to change direction, sweeping around in an arc as he pounced on the other knife-wielder. This time, he turned sideways and kicked out with a Side Kick. To the man watching, it was as if a tiger had killed his companion with a roar, then whipped its tail at him like a steel whip.

He couldn't dodge. He saw a man-eating tiger, and its overwhelming presence made his movements falter for a moment. Bai Lang's leg was longer than his arm, so the Side Kick smashed his neck and the lower half of his head. The force passed straight through his body: his front caved in, and the shattered bones at the back burst through his flesh.

The man with the shield had just fallen on his backside. He hadn't imagined that both his companions would already be dead. Before he could decide what to do, a clawed hand seized his face. "Don't make a sound. You have five seconds to tell me who sent you and where you were supposed to report after finishing the job."

Bai Lang tightened his grip slightly, and the man immediately felt the pressure. It really was Tiger Claw Skill; just like a tiger's claws, it could rip through a concrete slab. A mere human head was in serious danger. The man's mind raced, so he quickly explained everything. Then he begged for mercy. "Just as I thought. Since you've been so cooperative, I'll knock you out. I won't kill you. Hahaha."

Bai Lang gave a slight shock with his palm, and the man collapsed like a lump of mud, still vomiting. A concussion was no joke, but he wouldn't die. Three men had come together; one had died and one had survived. It seemed to come down to pure luck. Bai Lang gathered his things and, of course, fled at once. He left the cleanup to the local police.

In China, this would have been a major case. But in Thailand—unless it happened in Bangkok or Chiang Mai—two dead gangsters were nothing worth mentioning. With his pack on his back, Bai Lang took a local three-wheeler toward the place where the lucky survivor had said they were supposed to report.

To avoid trouble and give those idiots a warning, Bai Lang decided to kill the person in charge. He got out a block away from the target and walked around the area. "I can't waste time. By nightfall, they'll definitely know something went wrong. I'd guess they have people in the local police, too. Better to get this over with and climb in through the back to kill him."

He did exactly that. Bai Lang went around back, placed a hand against the building, and was already on the third floor. He tensed his muscles with his inner energy and crashed through the window with a clatter. The window had security bars, but he smashed through them along with the wall, making them useless.

Bai Lang had already identified the people inside by listening as he climbed up. So he knew how many were in the room. As he lunged in, he curled himself into a ball to make as small a target as possible—these people were quite likely to have pistols or other weapons. There were six people in the room: one sitting in a chair, three on the sofa, and two standing. When the window and wall came crashing down, only one of them reached for a gun. The others were stunned.

That was his chance.

His curled-up body suddenly stretched out. He moved much like a member of the cat family, and by the time he straightened, Bai Lang was already upon the man with the gun. His tiger claw ripped downward. The man didn't even have time to scream. His face, neck, and the entire front of his chest were torn open, and his insides spilled across the floor. He dropped to his knees and died without a sound. Blood sprayed from his ripped-open neck all the way to the ceiling.

Even the Tiger Form in Xingyi wasn't this vicious, let alone Tiger Crane Twin Forms. Bai Lang's technique was the true intent of the Tiger Form, bolstered by inner energy. A real tiger could do no better. After killing one man with his pounce, Bai Lang lunged directly at the three people frozen in terror on the sofa. A sweeping Hand Blade and a flurry of Iron Fist strikes killed all three in the blink of an eye. Only then did the last man who'd been standing reach for his gun, while the man in the chair had slid beneath it and was trembling.