The Battle Hanger

But at this moment, the other people's swords and sabers had also arrived. Bai Lang coiled his body and, with a flash, used one person as his human shield. Immediately, flesh and blood flew. This unlucky fellow hadn't even died from Bai Lang's sword thrust before being dismembered by his own ruthless companions. Among the flying body parts, some were already black and emitting a foul stench, undoubtedly from weapons coated with poison.

Bai Lang naturally had blood splashed on him. This exchange caused him to break out in a cold sweat—this was indeed his first time engaging in close-quarters combat with multiple enemies, especially martial artists wielding cold weapons. Life and death were decided in an instant. He now felt his whole body burning, and the desire for battle suddenly turned cold. His heart felt a premonition, as if he clearly knew the current position of every opponent, the length and weight of their weapons, the speed of their attacks, and the flow of internal energy in their weapons.

This was a breakthrough on the battlefield. This might be the "Hanger" Bai Lang truly hid in his heart—the Battle Hanger. Perhaps the virtual character who had a similar Hanger before was named Xiao Feng, but Bai Lang might also be mistaken; it could be the pressure causing him to hallucinate. In any case, whether it was a hallucination or a breakthrough for a new type of person, he would know in just a moment—because the opponents' attacks, like mincing dumpling filling, came again.

These martial artists were around Bai Lang's level. They had internal energy, but it wasn't too strong, nor could they project it externally. Internal energy merely allowed them to be strong and agile, and to unleash the true killing power of techniques that would otherwise be considered mere flourishes without internal energy. For Bai Lang, these were already extremely difficult opponents. He might not fear any of them one-on-one, but now, with five or six people ganging up on him, he would have to squeeze out his full potential to fight.

Such combat ignited Bai Lang's fighting spirit. As soon as he darted out from behind the shattered "cover," his body elongated—this was another ability from his Tiger Form True Intent. His entire body became like a large cat, its spine elastic, able to coil and extend. When coiled, he was like a ball; when extended, he was like a stretched spring. He thrust his arm out again, and the short sword in his hand directly pierced the chest and abdomen of a martial artist. Bai Lang didn't retract the short sword immediately; he loosened his grip, letting the sword remain stuck in the enemy's bones. His spine sprang, and he lunged back.

Although the internal energy of the Golden Bell Shield couldn't block swords imbued with internal energy, its damage-reducing effect was undeniable. Furthermore, the points where the Golden Bell Shield's internal energy condensed were quite similar to metal. Bai Lang's claws had already been trained in the Tiger Claw technique, and now, infused with the internal energy of the Golden Bell Shield, they were like weapons. The opponent he lunged at held a long sword, his swordsmanship fluid and graceful like drawing silk. From within the soft movements, a point would suddenly thrust out, targeting the eyes, heart, or throat—perhaps it was indeed a good swordsmanship.

However, Bai Lang didn't have time to entangle with this opponent. He simply shielded his eyes with one hand and lunged directly into the swordsman's reach. The sword sliced through his clothes and body; even the internal energy of the Golden Bell Shield couldn't block it, leaving many wounds. Bai Lang was prepared to trade injury for life. He seized the center, let out a tiger's roar, and tore out with his claws. Simultaneously, he lowered his head slightly, using his forehead to protect his eyes—who knew if this sound would heal them after the mission? Not all infinite flow worlds had such good treatment.

The human skull's forehead bone was its hardest part. In some cases, it could even deflect or lodge small-caliber pistol bullets. With the internal energy of the Golden Bell Shield, its hardness increased further. Bai Lang estimated that the sword might not be able to pierce his skull. Time didn't allow for the swordsman's next move. Bai Lang's lunge, with his claws, carried a gust of foul wind, reaching his opponent faster than the blink of an eye.

The force of this strike and grab was likely several thousand jin. He slammed into the swordsman. Before the man could be sent flying by the impact, Bai Lang immediately changed his palm into a claw and dug in. Using the momentum of the flight, the entire front of the swordsman's chest, including his ribs, was torn off. Bai Lang held a bloody handful of flesh and a rack of ribs. Bai Lang quickly threw the ribs horizontally to block the others' vision, and he himself used this momentum to lunge again.

In close-quarters combat, there were no more ferocious weapons than fists, feet, and tiger claws. With Bai Lang's current strength, wherever he touched, bones would break and tendons would snap; wherever he grabbed, a blood bag would immediately form. However, his opponents weren't pushovers. In such combat, they could also inflict injuries on Bai Lang—he just needed to be careful not to be hit by those poisoned weapons. As for other areas, he could use his thick, tough skin, reinforced by the Golden Bell Shield's internal energy, to block—getting injured was better than dying.

His next target was the guy with the poisoned sword. To deal with him, Bai Lang again grabbed the corpse of the person he had just killed as a shield. In the shortest possible time, he broke the man's neck and twisted his body into a pretzel. The price was three slashes on his back, two sword wounds on his backside, and a blow from a soft whip to one shoulder.

When Bai Lang finally killed everyone with the help of his "perception," he sat exhausted and weak on a corpse. "I didn't expect to actually break through. There really is such a 'Martial God Hanger.' However, with these injuries, if I'm unlucky, I might really bleed to death. I still need to bandage them." The fight, from start to finish, lasted less than two minutes, Bai Lang calculated. This high-intensity slaughter didn't even give the opponents time to feel fear or escape; each fought to the very end.

"Why bother? They shouted as soon as they came out and then ganged up on me. I don't even know what faction they belong to. But they shouted 'Hall Master,' could they be subordinates of that target? What was his name again?" Bai Lang bandaged himself somewhat clumsily. Unfortunately, he had many cuts and stab wounds, some deep enough to see bone. Fortunately, the Golden Bell Shield's internal energy provided effective damage reduction, and he controlled his muscles to contract tightly to stop the bleeding, making the bandaging somewhat effective.

In any case, he just needed to wash them with water and then wrap them layer by layer with cloth—finding cloth was quite difficult, so he could only tear off some seemingly clean pieces from the corpses and wrap them. "It'll definitely get infected," Bai Lang cursed. However, it was only twelve hours. With his physical condition, he should be able to hold on—after that, he would either be erased or be able to return, so he didn't need to worry.

Now that everyone was dead, it was impossible to ask for directions. Moreover, after the bloody battle, Bai Lang felt very thirsty. Fortunately, there was a stream nearby. He washed his body and drank his fill—who cared if there were parasites or not, it was only for a day. Since he couldn't determine his direction, he could only seriously think about the situation he saw when he first came out. Perhaps he could deduce the correct direction—after all, the situation of those dead men at the beginning seemed like they were guarding something, right?