Ambush

The improvement of the Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique refreshed Chen Mo, sweeping away all sense of fatigue.

Now free from external interference, he could focus his mind on honing his martial arts and techniques.

Shadows of people flitted about nearby, coming and going as they hustled for a living, yet Chen Mo remained motionless throughout, as steady as an old fisherman.

Glowing red iron rods were pulled from the furnace, forged, quenched, and ground into usable sharp weapons; this process was also the path through which Chen Mo's Fuhu Fist and Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique continuously advanced.

He discovered that as long as he directed his intent, he could control whether the grinding of the crude iron improved his Fuhu Fist or his Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique.

Lost in his immersion, the sun dipped below the western horizon.

The laborers around him left one by one. Zhang Cai glanced at Chen Mo a few times, wanting to go over and greet him, but after a moment of thought, he decided against it.

For several days in a row, Chen Mo went to the martial hall in the morning to practice his stakes and punches, and to the Iron Furnace Room in the afternoon to grind and quench, following a strict three-point routine.

To provide Chen Mo with more nutritional supplements, Chen Lan carefully "allocated" the remaining copper coins, using the vast majority to purchase meat—though it was only enough for two or three days—while she herself barely filled her stomach.

On the fifth day.

With a clear chime in his mind, the Fuhu Fist finally reached the entry level.

Several details in the fist technique that he had never noticed before were now exceptionally clear in his mind, as if branded there, never to be forgotten.

If he integrated these details into his fist force, Chen Mo estimated that the power of his technique would increase by nearly twenty percent. In actual combat, a tiny gap could determine victory or defeat, let alone a difference of nearly twenty percent.

This was the benefit of the increased comprehension brought by Mountain and Water Cultivation!

He pondered to himself that if he had such results just at the entry level, there might be minor success, major success, perfection, or even strange evolutions ahead; his heart was filled with anticipation.

At this moment, Chen Mo stood on the Plum Blossom Stakes, his execution of the Stone-Crushing Strike already very steady, and his Wave-Intercepting Style had also made significant progress; he had even begun to practice the third form, the Sand-Raising Style.

As for the Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique, he had 18 points of comprehension, but it would still be some time before it reached the entry level.

The senior brothers in the hall would talk daily about current events in Black River Town and even Anyang County—for instance, how the Hansha Gang and the Black Tiger Hall had recently been at odds, and because the Hansha Gang had the support of the Zhao Family, they did not fear the Black Tiger Hall.

Also, the Zhao Family and the Wu Family would come to Tianqing Martial Hall in a few days to hire martial artists for external positions, and any disciple who had reached Ming Jin could participate.

Chen Mo listened from the side, silently noting these matters that concerned him.

Ji Chang noticed Chen Mo practicing alone. "Junior brother, in time, once you break through to Ming Jin, you can take an external position and get a taste of the outside martial world."

Chen Mo smiled. "Senior brother thinks too highly of me; I'm still a long way off."

Not far away, Yin Shanshan, the daughter of the hall master, cast a glance over, seemingly finding Ji Chang's words quite redundant. "Even the senior brother who reached Ming Jin the fastest took two months to break through."

Ji Chang teased, "Junior sister, you're great in every way, but you're always full of talk about the senior brother."

Laughter erupted around them, and Yin Shanshan lowered her head with a sweet smile, her cheeks revealing dimples that looked as if they could hold two cups of fine wine.

Chen Mo continued to practice his punches, his thoughts drifting as he ruminated on the phrase, "The Hansha Gang and the Black Tiger Hall have recently been at odds."

As far as he knew, Huang E of the Black Tiger Hall went to the Hua Pavilion to drink every fifth day of the month, and after getting half-drunk, he would return along a deserted path north of the town.

Today was the fifth.

Huang E had long coveted Chen Lan, and while Chen Lan was usually extremely cautious and dared not offend the man in the slightest, this crisis had not been resolved even now that Chen Mo had joined the martial hall.

Furthermore, Huang E had repeatedly humiliated him in the past—a fact Chen Mo had kept carved in his heart, never forgetting.

Moreover, he now needed a large amount of nutritional supplements, and supplements required money. Where would the money come from? As a lackey responsible for collecting grain tribute, Huang E was bound to have plenty of grease on his palms...

Chen Mo's Fuhu Fist had already reached minor success, while Huang E had not yet broken through to Ming Jin and was also intoxicated; with the shift in their conditions, he had a seventy to eighty percent chance of a successful ambush.

Thinking of this.

Chen Mo's right fist exerted sudden force, a gust of wind stirred and expanded, emitting a crisp ringing sound.

"Whoosh!"

The crowd, still in the midst of a heated discussion, suddenly stopped, their gazes searching the hall until they landed in surprise on Chen Mo.

Twilight was like ink, dripping into the small town and spreading out.

Around the hour of the Rat, Chen Mo was already lying in wait on the path north of the town. He stood behind a broken wall, his body slightly hunched, hiding perfectly within the shadows of the ruins.

In the night and thin mist, the view on the path was hazy, revealing not a trace.

Several days prior, he had already studied the environment here—where it was narrow and suitable for an ambush, where it was open and suitable for a fight, and if he were outmatched, where he could escape—all of which he had figured out.

It was all for this night.

After waiting for about half an hour, a figure appeared at the edge of his vision, swaying as it slowly approached. Chen Mo saw his appearance clearly; it was indeed Huang E.

He hunched like a cat, his left hand gripping a handy stone from the wall to push off for momentum, his right hand forming a fist, his breathing beginning to quicken.

Huang E shook his head, still intoxicated by fine wine and soft embraces. He suddenly shivered and looked around, but years of unbridled arrogance meant he felt no suspicion at this moment.

Just as Huang E exposed his back, a figure behind the wall suddenly cut through the mist, throwing a punch that whistled with a rushing sound.

In that instant, Huang E sobered up more than halfway. His feet twisted on the ground, and as his upper body turned halfway, he also threw a punch, attempting to meet Chen Mo's force.

But Huang E's fist was only halfway there when the Stone-Crushing Strike, having taken the first step, had already magnified in his eyes.

Chen Mo's punch was not aimed at his opponent's face, but at the jugular vein!

In an instant, the force of the punch slammed into Huang E's neck, sinking in by more than half a fist's depth. Chen Mo clearly felt his knuckles strike the neck bone, accompanied by a faint cracking sound.

"Snap."

The force of the Stone-Crushing Strike blurred most of Huang E's vision, and a bone-chilling pain radiated from his neck. However, having spent years scraping by and practicing a few tricks, he immediately rolled to the ground, dissipating some of the punch's momentum.

Following his blurred line of sight, he saw a face as ferocious as a starving tiger, devoid of any other expression.

And this was the same face he had looked down upon with contempt just a few days ago, trampling it like an ant.

"It's you!"

Chen Mo steadied his stance without pausing. Giving his opponent no chance to catch his breath, he immediately assumed the stance of the Wave-Intercepting Style, took a fierce step forward, and thrust his left fist out, followed closely by his right.

Suppressing the terror in his heart, Huang E tried to flip himself up. He reached out one palm to grab Chen Mo's left fist, while his other hand remained on the ground to support his weight, unable to strike back.

The moment fist met palm, Huang E felt his muscles and bones go numb. The wound on his neck split open further, and his face twisted in agony.

He was completely sober now, and he understood perfectly: Chen Mo was here to take his life tonight.

It was not over yet; the essence of the Wave-Intercepting Style lay in the second punch!

Chen Mo thrust his right fist forward, slamming it toward the crown of his opponent's head.

A sense of deathly terror instantly permeated Huang E's entire body. His mouth opened instinctively, and his pupils dilated to their limit.

The fist landed, and the skull shattered upon impact.

"Snap!"

As the sound of breaking bone echoed through the alley, the light of life in Huang E's eyes slowly dissipated. Chen Mo noticed then that the crotch of the man's trousers had become soaked at some point.

"Hoo—"

Chen Mo withdrew his hand and pulled out a short blade commonly used by the Hansha Gang from behind his back. He had picked it up two days ago when a gang member had carelessly discarded it while no one was looking.

Without hesitation, he held the blade and slashed hard across Huang E's throat. Blood splattered everywhere, and he quickly stepped back several paces to avoid getting any on himself.

He then hacked several more times at the neck and skull to obscure the traces of his martial arts, only then stopping to discard the short blade on the ground.

Afterward, he rummaged through Huang E's pockets and found some silver; after counting, there was as much as seven taels.

Chen Mo felt a surge of joy. He tucked the silver into his own pocket and, without lingering, turned and walked briskly toward his home.

The alley returned to silence, save for the occasional barking of dogs from distant households.

In the thin mist, the moonlight was pale, but the color of blood was thick and blindingly vivid.