Chapter 23

Bai Lang's figure came sweeping in with a bloody gust, like a Bengal tiger from Thailand. Before he even arrived, the wind of his approach announced his presence. Since the bodyguards—and even their boss—were armed, with some carrying assault rifles, Bai Lang had to kill them before they could crossfire. Otherwise, even with his skills, he might have trouble getting away.

Like a tiger pouncing on its prey, Bai Lang swung his palm, striking before the bodyguard in front of him could turn his gun around. The man was pulling the trigger and firing at the door; he only caught sight of something rushing toward him out of the corner of his eye. Bai Lang struck him squarely in the side. His inner force surged, turning the man into a human cannonball that blasted into the cluster of bodyguards.

This was pure hard force. With that single palm strike, the spot where it landed had already become a mass of mangled flesh, yet the force continued to propel the man forward. Bai Lang had once read about a palm technique in a martial arts novel called the Flame Transmission Divine Skill. It could easily pass one's inner force through multiple people and channel it directly into a target, where it would erupt. It could even draw in the inner force of those serving as "conduits," turning it into a crashing wave of power.

Bai Lang was still nowhere near mastering such a divine skill. For now, he could only use hard force to turn people into human projectiles. But it seemed to work. The dead bodyguard he'd sent flying crashed into another bodyguard holding an assault rifle. Both men made a horrid crunch as their bones broke, then collapsed in a heap—their momentum had finally run out.

Bai Lang had already killed two men, but he didn't stop. As his right hand struck, his left was already poised to attack. Closing in on the second man, he seized him with a tiger claw and yanked. The man's arm tore free in a spray of blood. At that moment, the others couldn't fire even if they wanted to—the man's body was perfectly blocking Bai Lang from their line of sight.

Bai Lang pushed off with his toes and changed direction, putting all his shaking force into that step. The marble floor exploded, sending fragments flying like shrapnel. The shards were sharp enough to split someone's head open, but Bai Lang had mastered the Golden Bell Shield, so they barely bothered him. The burst of stone made the others freeze instinctively for a moment, and their bodies flinched away on reflex.

That moment cost them their lives. The guns that had already swung around stopped firing for an instant. Bai Lang slipped past the bodyguard bleeding heavily, grabbed two others with both hands, and unleashed his tiger claws. In the blink of an eye, he had torn and crushed them into bloody husks—twisted, mangled husks. The last bodyguard was caught by Bai Lang's sweeping kick and split in two at the waist.

Bai Lang straightened and shook the blood from his hands. Still moving with great agility, he turned toward the boss, who was still armed. The man couldn't keep up with Bai Lang's movements. His vision blurred; then pain shot through his wrist. His gun fell, and his wrist was badly fractured. "I ask, you answer." Bai Lang pinned him to the sofa with one hand, then sat opposite him.

The man with the severed arm was barely able to moan. The massive blood loss seemed to have nearly killed him. Bai Lang wanted to know who had ordered the hit, who was in charge, and whom he needed to find to put an end to this. It all depended on whether the boss in front of him cooperated. This boss was much more mature than the young man. He knew he was bound to die, but he couldn't keep pretending to be tough—Bai Lang's inner-force interrogation method was almost impossible for ordinary people without inner force to withstand.

After getting the information he wanted, Bai Lang didn't torture the boss. He simply smashed his skull with a punch, giving him a quick death. As before, Bai Lang washed his hands and changed clothes in the house before leaving. He still had to race against time and catch the men who'd made this decision and put it into action before they heard things had changed and fled.

"At least I don't have to interrogate anyone again. It's better to just take out my opponents." Bai Lang felt much more at ease. This sort of thing was a real nuisance, but it also did wonders for his martial arts. A lightning-fast fight against firearms was truly more of a test than simply training.

By now, Bai Lang had advanced further in his understanding of the tiger's spirit. He had fully incorporated the tiger's presence into his martial arts, so that every gesture and movement carried the bearing of a tiger. His tiger claws and palm strikes modeled on a tiger's paw had also reached a new level, capturing the true essence of the beast. "One hand makes a tiger claw; bring both hands together, and you have Tiger Mouth." As he hurried along, Bai Lang demonstrated the movements. "A barrage of palm strikes followed by raking tiger claws. Against ordinary people, that's serious overkill. One palm strike is enough to kill most people."

Now that he'd reached his destination, he knew that the only people who truly wanted him hunted down—and had acted on it—were the group's top boss and the boss in charge of its dirty work. The others didn't want to get involved. Those two men were always exceptionally secretive about their whereabouts, but fortunately, the boss in charge of the drugs knew where they were. "If I can kill them both, I will. If I only get one—or neither—I'll leave for Myanmar, Laos, or Vietnam. I can train anywhere."

Bai Lang stopped in front of a concrete building. "Keeping your whereabouts secret and changing them constantly is the best way to stay alive, huh? And you've got a few bodyguards watching your back." He felt this could be tricky. He had no idea what the layout inside was like, so he'd just have to give it a try.

Bai Lang pulled out the pistol he'd taken from a corpse earlier, a PPK. The drug boss had also had two AKs, but Bai Lang hadn't taken them—the fighting had bent both guns out of shape. The other guns weren't suitable either. They were too bulky, and Bai Lang didn't think he could conceal them easily.

The PPK was compact and accurate, and he could carry plenty of ammunition for it. Bai Lang had brought two spare magazines, along with all twenty rounds. "I've got thirty-four rounds now. That should usually be enough." But this would test his marksmanship. He had experience fighting with his bare hands, but he'd never actually fought with a gun.

Bai Lang didn't hurry inside. Instead, he hid in the shadows and closed his eyes to rest, while mentally rehearsing the fight. "This really won't be easy. Well, I'll adapt as I go." Bai Lang lightly pushed off the ground and reached up, grabbing the ventilation window around the third-floor level. Supporting himself with one hand, he carefully peered inside.

"The walls are thick." The first thing he noticed was the thickness of the wall around the ventilation window. It looked like solid poured concrete; smashing his way through with his bare hands would probably be difficult. Once he focused his inner force on his eyes, he could see a little even in the dark—and there were lights inside the building anyway. What he saw was an underground boxing ring.

Inside was a large open space with fifty or sixty people, both men and women. They were all dressed in fine clothes or evening wear, apparently waiting for the underground fights to begin. "Can't see those two bastards." Bai Lang cursed. He didn't know what either boss looked like, which was the biggest challenge for him.