Desperate Counterkill

In the woods.

Song Zhong and his five subordinates quickly fanned out, searching the surrounding area within a few dozen yards. They held sabers and axes, pushing aside tall grass and checking the crevices between rocks.

A man with triangular eyes and his companion searched near a dense patch of wolf-tail fern.

The two men poked at the plants casually with their blades, their gazes sweeping over them. Thinking it was just an ordinary patch of ferns, they walked right past.

The moment they turned their backs—

From within the ferns, a green figure that had nearly blended into the environment moved!

Qin Meng lunged like a predatory viper. His ring-pommel saber turned into a flash of cold lightning, slicing precisely across the back of the triangular-eyed man's neck.

"Pfft!"

The blade cut through skin, flesh, and bone. The man's body stiffened, his eyes bulging with terror before he collapsed limply.

[Life source +15%]

A surge of scalding heat flooded into Qin Meng's body.

The other man turned around in horror, just in time to see his companion falling and Qin Meng pouncing like a ghost.

"Ov—" He only managed to utter a single syllable before Qin Meng's saber struck his heart like a venomous dragon emerging from its lair.

The man scrambled to raise his blade in defense.

"Clang!"

Metal clashed against metal, and the man's arm shook violently: What incredible strength!

Just as he tried to retreat and call for help, Qin Meng pressed down on the blade and slid it aside, slashing upward from below.

"Shhh-rip!"

The blade cut in from under his ribs, slicing diagonally upward through his chest. The man opened his mouth to scream, but Qin Meng shattered his throat with a punch. He fell, eyes wide.

[Life source +16%]

Qin Meng's breathing remained steady as he quickly looted their money pouches. The entire process took less than five seconds.

He did not linger, his figure once again merging into the environment.

In the distance, a burly man with a scarred face faintly heard an unusual sound. He stopped and tilted his head to listen. "Gouzi? Lao Liu?"

There was no response.

He gripped his saber and crept toward the direction of the sound. Rounding a large boulder, he found himself in an open clearing in the woods.

Suddenly, a dark shadow lunged out from behind a tree on the left.

It was Qin Meng himself. He pounced like a cheetah, his speed so great that he left a blurred afterimage in his wake!

By the time the burly man realized what was happening, the blade's light had already reached his face.

He roared and swung his own weapon, but Qin Meng was faster. The blade shifted at an uncanny angle, bypassing the block to pierce straight into his throat!

"Pfft!"

The tip of the blade punched through the back of his neck!

The life force in the burly man's eyes faded rapidly, and his blade clattered to the ground.

[Life Source +18%]

Qin Meng withdrew his blade and quickly looted the body.

He could feel the life source within his body nearing a critical threshold.

Not long after, the fourth lone thug had his throat slit from behind by a single strike.

[Life Source +14%]

When the leader, Song Zhong, finally sensed that something was wrong—as his subordinates fell silent one after another and failed to respond to his calls—he felt a surge of dread.

"Lao Liu! Heng San!" He backed against a large tree and shouted in a low, sharp voice. His voice echoed through the silent woods, but only his own echoes returned to him.

A nameless fear coiled around his heart like a cold viper.

He realized that the four subordinates he had brought with him were likely dead.

And that Qin Meng, whom they had dismissed as a "sickly ghost," was definitely hiding something.

"Qin Meng, get the hell out here! What kind of skill is it to play god and act like a ghost?" Song Zhong roared, his bravado masking his inner fear. He gripped his ghost-head blade tightly; the dark red patterns faintly visible on the blade indicated it was clearly a fine weapon.

His eyes scanned the surroundings like a hawk, pushing the senses of a blood changing realm martial artist to their limit.

He could feel a cold killing intent locked onto him, yet he could not pinpoint the exact direction.

"Whoosh!"

An arrow shot out from behind a tree on the left, aiming straight for his throat.

A fierce light flashed in Song Zhong's eyes. Instead of dodging, he took a step forward, his ghost-head blade cleaving through the air with a shrill whistle!

"Snap!" The arrow was sliced in two mid-air!

The momentum of the blade did not falter, even shearing through a nearby tree branch as thick as a bowl.

"Small tricks!" Song Zhong sneered with disdain.

However—

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh..."

Three chain arrows flew in a triangular formation, sealing off his space to dodge left or right!

Song Zhong roared, his ghost-head blade dancing into a screen of light!

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" All three arrows were knocked away, but he was left with a numb arm, his heart filled with shock:

The force behind these arrows was ferocious. How could a sick ghost have this kind of strength?

In that moment of distraction, an arrow shot at a tricky angle pierced his shoulder.

"Damn it, you little beast..." Song Zhong let out a miserable cry, snapping the arrow shaft as he cursed.

He locked onto the source of the arrows, pushed off with his feet, and launched himself like a cannonball, charging straight toward the general direction where Qin Meng was hiding.

Dozens of paces were nothing but a few breaths for a martial artist of his caliber.

Seeing this, Qin Meng decisively tossed his hunting bow aside, gripped his ring-pommel saber with both hands, and revealed himself from his hiding spot to face the charging Song Zhong head-on.

"Die!" Song Zhong struck with hatred, his ghost-head blade descending with the force of a mountain-splitting blow.

Qin Meng shifted his feet rapidly, moving sideways in the nick of time, while his ring-pommel saber struck out like a viper's tongue, slashing diagonally toward the opponent's wrist.

Song Zhong hurriedly changed his move to parry.

Clang—!

A piercing, explosive sound rang out.

Qin Meng's thumb-web split open, his entire right arm went instantly numb, and he retreated two steps in shock. He had underestimated the strength of a blood changing realm martial artist; even though the opponent was injured in the shoulder and not using his full strength, the gap in power was still immense.

Song Zhong's wrist also went numb, and he was even more startled: This blade technique... it's devilishly tricky!

Before he could dwell on it, Qin Meng growled and lunged again, his blade light continuous, focusing specifically on the subtle pauses and openings during Song Zhong's transitions.

Song Zhong roared in anger and simply stopped bothering with complex changes. His ghost-head blade used brute force to break finesse, sweeping and hacking with howling gusts of wind that forced Qin Meng to retreat repeatedly. Every parry sent his blood churning, causing blood to spill from the corner of his mouth.

"Die for me!" Seeing an opening, Song Zhong suddenly accelerated his blade, descending like Mount Tai collapsing.

There was nowhere left to retreat. A fierce glint flashed in Qin Meng's eyes. Instead of parrying or blocking, he shot forward like a taut bowstring, his ring-pommel saber turning into a cold, bleak flash of light, thrusting straight at the throat Song Zhong had exposed during his wild assault!

Trading life for life!

Song Zhong's hair stood on end as he roared and twisted his body to bring his blade back. Squelch! The blade grazed his neck, spraying a mist of blood, while a deep, bone-exposed gash was torn into Qin Meng's shoulder, blood spurting out.

The two men suddenly separated, panting like oxen.

Song Zhong clutched his agonizing neck, his hand coming away covered in warm blood.

He snapped his head up, staring fixedly at the exquisite and ruthless trajectory of Qin Meng's blade. A thought that made his scalp tingle exploded in his mind:

This was no backwater brawling style; it was clearly a technique capable of mobilizing blood energy to unleash true lethality.

"A martial skill? You actually know a martial skill?"

Martial skills were graded into Heaven, Earth, Mysterious, and Yellow, each further subdivided into high, middle, and low tiers. Even a Yellow-tier low-grade skill required a practitioner in the body forging realm to master.

How could this sickly brat, who hadn't cultivated a single thing, possess one?

Qin Meng's face was as pale as paper, and blood flowed ceaselessly from his shoulder, yet his hand holding the saber remained steady as a rock. He seemed not to hear Song Zhong's shock.

"You must die!" Shock transformed into even more frantic killing intent. Song Zhong's eyes turned blood-red, and he burned his blood energy without reservation. His ghost-head blade danced into a crimson storm, a style of fighting that traded injury for injury and life for life.

He knew he could not let this boy who possessed a martial skill live!

The pressure surged.

Qin Meng was like a lone boat in a raging storm. New wounds constantly appeared on his body, his clothes were nearly soaked red with blood, his footsteps began to falter, and the light of his blade dimmed.

"Die!" Song Zhong finally seized the moment when Qin Meng's strength lagged. Joy and cruelty erupted in his eyes as his ghost-head blade condensed into a streak of blood-red light, hacking down toward Qin Meng's head with the force of a mountain-splitting blow.

This strike was fast, ruthless, and absolute—there was no possibility of changing moves!

Qin Meng's pupils shrank to pinpricks. In the instant between life and death, all distracting thoughts faded away. Only the instincts honed through countless brushes with death and the blade technique branded into his soul remained, burning bright.

He squeezed the last shred of strength from his meridians, and even the excruciating pain of his wounds splitting open transformed into a resolute driving force. He kicked off the ground, turning his body and his blade into a straight, tragic, and indomitable line—

Striking later, but arriving first!

Puchi!

The dull sound of a sharp weapon piercing flesh was exceptionally clear.

The tip of the ring-pommel saber protruded half an inch from Song Zhong's back, not a single drop of blood staining it.

Song Zhong's forward momentum came to an abrupt halt. The ghost-head blade stopped half a foot from Qin Meng's forehead before crashing to the ground.

He lowered his head, looking at the blood-stained blade tip protruding from his chest in disbelief. He opened his mouth, let out two rattling gasps, and the madness, shock, and unwillingness in his eyes finally faded into a deathly gray as he fell backward.

Qin Meng staggered, leaning on his saber to keep from collapsing. Bathed in blood, his vision blacking out in waves, that single strike—which had condensed all his essence, energy, and spirit—had nearly drained him dry. It was a true escape from the jaws of death.

He panted for a moment, then gritted his teeth and stepped forward to decapitate him.

[Life Source +22%]

[Current life source 100%, can strengthen your own origin]

The life source became incredibly active, surging through his body like a scalding hot current.

Transformation was within reach!

Qin Meng gritted his teeth, suppressing the intense urge to sit down and meditate immediately, and cleared the battlefield as quickly as possible. He shoved his loot haphazardly into a cloth bag.

Picking up that ghost-head blade belonging to Song Zhong, he took one last deep look at the forest clearing thick with the scent of blood, then turned and left without looking back. He had to find a safe place to welcome his transformation.