Severed Pulse Without Trace

The saber wind keened, like a golden crow crying blood.

Facing a slash powerful enough to cleave a man in two, Chen Ping didn't scramble away clutching his head as he had before.

He halted his retreat. His feet took root in the bluestone slabs like the roots of an ancient tree, while beneath his sleeves, his once sallow, scrawny hands took on a strange, blue-black metallic sheen.

Shattered Stone Palm at the Transformation Realm, Iron Hand Without Trace.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, palms pressed together as he reached to catch the razor-sharp blade between them.

"Looking to die!"

Jin Shijie's eyes gleamed with frenzied delight, as if he could already see Chen Ping's hands being severed.

"Clang—!"

A grating crash of metal rang out across the arena.

There was no spray of blood and flesh. The Hundred-Refined Steel Saber had been caught in midair between those bare hands.

Chen Ping's face flushed red. Using the tremendous force transmitted through the blade, he staggered backward.

"Pfft."

The web between his thumb and forefinger split open. Blood trickled from his fingertips, staining the stone beneath his feet. He looked ready to collapse, at the end of his strength.

The strike looked devastating, but Chen Ping had actually diverted seventy percent of its force, suffering only minor flesh wounds.

Yet to the onlookers, the penniless young man had only half a life left.

"Hahahaha! Block me? Let's see what you've got to block with!"

The drug had gone to Jin Shijie's head. His eyes were bloodshot, and seeing Chen Ping injured roused the cruelty buried in his bones.

He gave Chen Ping no chance to catch his breath. With a roar, he swung his saber wildly and charged again, his movements utterly devoid of form.

But he himself hadn't noticed that as the Bloodburst Pill's effects intensified, his breathing had grown as heavy as bellows, and his once exquisite Golden Crow Saber Technique was riddled with openings from his impatience.

Chen Ping narrowed his eyes. A glimmer of light flashed deep in his pupils.

Jin Shijie's fierce assault played out like a slow-motion replay.

His left foot was unsteady, his center wide open, his blood and qi in reverse flow.

Every move was an opening.

"Now."

Chen Ping's thoughts were cold.

At the instant Jin Shijie's saber cut through empty air, his old strength was spent and his new strength had yet to gather.

Chen Ping moved.

He used no fancy footwork. Like a slick fish, he slipped sideways along the blade and darted into Jin Shijie's embrace.

Their bodies crossed, face to face.

Chen Ping could smell the revolting stench of blood and medicine on Jin Shijie's breath.

He raised his right hand and lightly pressed it against the Shanzhong Acupoint on Jin Shijie's chest.

The palm made no sound as it cut through the air, and no force leaked from it. It was like a gentle pat between old friends reunited.

Yet the instant his palm touched the clothing—

The "penetrating force," unique to Shattered Stone Palm at the Transformation Realm, became an invisible steel needle. It pierced through Jin Shijie's Golden Silk Armor, ignoring the flesh and bone in its path.

The force pierced straight into his heart meridian.

"Thump."

A dull sound, audible only to Chen Ping, rang inside Jin Shijie's chest.

The sound of his heart meridian snapping apart.

The two men abruptly separated.

Jin Shijie stood frozen in midair, saber raised high, the ferocious, arrogant grin still lingering on his face.

The next moment, the flush drained from his face at a visible speed, leaving it deathly pale.

"Ugh... kh..."

A sound like a broken bellows rasped from Jin Shijie's throat. His eyes bulged, disbelief written across his face.

Clang.

His saber hit the ground.

Then Jin Shijie's whole body crumpled like a heap of mud, slowly slumping to the ground.

"Waaah—"

A mouthful of black blood gushed from his lips, flecked with several dark-red chunks of organ.

The whole arena fell silent.

The spectators who had been shouting for Young Master Jin to kill Chen Ping gaped like ducks with their throats squeezed shut, unable to make a sound.

As Jin Shijie fell, Chen Ping also spent his last reserves of strength.

His legs gave way, and he dropped to the ground with a thud, gasping for breath. Cold sweat poured from him, and his face was white as paper.

"Th-that scared me to death..."

Chen Ping wiped the cold sweat from his face with a trembling hand. His eyes brimmed with the terror and weakness of a man who'd just escaped death by a hair. He looked every bit like a lucky fool who'd survived by sheer chance.

That was the perfect cover.

A narrow victory was still a victory.

"Jie'er!"

A furious, grief-stricken roar rang from the main seat in the stands.

A burly figure swooped down like a great roc, leaping straight from the stands, a full two zhang above the ground, and landing heavily in the center of the arena.

It was the chief examiner, Iron Palm Jin Zhenshan.

The hard bluestone platform cracked beneath his feet like a spiderweb.

Jin Zhenshan lifted Jin Shijie's body and placed his fingers against his son's pulse.

In a single breath, the martial arts master who had dominated Qinghe County for years turned ashen.

His meridians were shattered; his heart meridian was in pieces.

Even the gods couldn't save him.

"You little beast! You dared to strike a killing blow?!"

Jin Zhenshan jerked his head up, eyes bloodshot. A palpable, terrifying killing intent locked onto Chen Ping, slumped on the ground nearby.

His robe billowed though there was no wind. He raised his right hand high, dark qi swirling faintly in his palm.

If that palm landed, Chen Ping would be smashed to pulp—even if he weren't already at the end of his strength. Even at full strength, he would be finished.

Chen Ping shrank his neck, panic flashing in his eyes. He frantically scooted backward, stammering:

"S-sir, spare me! Young... Young Master Jin fell by himself! I didn't use any force!"

Though he begged for mercy, his left hand, hidden in his sleeve, had already closed around a Poison Smoke Pellet. The Longevity of Pine and Crane was also circulating wildly within him as he prepared to fight to the death.

"Stop!"

Just as Jin Zhenshan's palm was about to fall, at the very moment between life and death, a stern shout rang out from the stands.

The County Magistrate rose to his feet, his expression calm and cold as he stared down at Jin Zhenshan.

"Master Jin, this is the Imperial Court's Imperial Military Examination. The outcome has been decided in front of everyone. Your son was outmatched. Though he was injured, fists and feet have no eyes."

The County Magistrate's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of office. "If you kill someone here, what will become of the laws of the Imperial Court? What will become of me?"

Jin Zhenshan's hand froze in midair, only three inches from Chen Ping's crown.

The force of his palm stung Chen Ping's cheeks.

The air around them seemed to seize up.

After a long while,

Jin Zhenshan slowly lowered his hand and drew a breath, forcibly pressing his towering killing intent back down.

He gave Chen Ping a long, hard look.

His eyes were venomous. He looked at Chen Ping as if he were already dead.

"Fine. Very well."

Jin Zhenshan picked up his son's corpse, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper scraping stone. "The young are to be feared. I'll remember this."

With that, he looked at no one else. Carrying Jin Shijie, he strode away, his back looking especially desolate and ominous.

Slumped on the ground, Chen Ping watched Jin Zhenshan's retreating figure. The taut string inside him did not relax.