Come on, let's fight!

But when Lu Bai turned around, what greeted him wasn't a mocking laugh meant to tease him.

It was a long spear thrust straight at him, aimed right at his face. And the instant it came at him, it made no sound at all.

In the blink of an eye, the spearhead was already in front of Lu Bai's head, seemingly about to pierce his skull.

Even if Lu Bai's body were twice as tough, he still couldn't escape being impaled by a thrust like that.

These people had clearly seen Lu Bai yanking the horse around from a distance. Knowing he was no pushover, they'd used their lewd words to lower his guard, then launched a silent killing blow in an instant.

Anyone else would probably have fallen for it.

"Too bad for you, your Grandpa Lu's seen all this before!"

Lu Bai tilted his head. The spear slid past his neck, which he clamped tight around it.

At the same time, a jet of water shot from his mouth.

The man on horseback who had thrust at him tried to wrench his spear free, but felt it suddenly seize up. Then a faintly fragrant breath rushed into his face, and pain struck his eyes and nose as if he'd taken a straight punch.

Then a monstrous force surged through the spear in his hands. The weapon he'd held for ten years slipped from his grasp.

A whistling sound rang out. He knew that sound all too well: the rush of a swinging spear.

He had trained with spears since childhood. After ten years, he'd become a skilled fighter with a modest reputation, and so he'd replaced his old weapon with this spear, crafted by a renowned master.

From then on, he'd never been without his spear, and his hand had never left its shaft.

But five years later, he felt he could make no further progress with the weapon.

So he began studying silent spears: thrusting at blinding speed without making the slightest sound.

He hadn't heard this kind of whooshing spear sound in a long time.

"I seem to have lost something..."

A head flew into the air. Lu Bai swung the spear, flicking off the blood that clung to it, then turned his wrist and drove it into another man nearby.

"Ha!" Lu Bai roared. With a powerful heave, he swept the spear through a smooth arc, hoisting the mounted man into the air and hurling him into another.

This threw the approaching cavalry's formation into disarray and startled their horses. Lu Bai withdrew, lifting the Third Young Master with one hand while holding the spear diagonally across his body with the other. He stabbed the tip into the ground, then twisted and heaved.

Sand, stones, mud, and snow flew everywhere, like the sharpest hidden weapons.

Lu Bai tossed the young master aside and raised his spear, his gaze growing hotter by the moment.

"Dismount!" someone shouted. The horses were spooked, and in these circumstances they'd only get in the way.

These men were brave, far beyond ordinary folk.

Back at Black Tiger Stronghold, Lu Bai had faced twenty or thirty fighters. After he killed five or six, the rest had already scattered.

Those who remained had begged for mercy, fled, or even switched sides, turning what had started as a fight into a massacre.

But now, despite Lu Bai killing three of them first, the dozen or so survivors hadn't galloped off. They'd dismounted and continued fighting. That alone was impressive.

Lu Bai admired people with such unwavering fighting spirit.

Lu Bai wasn't much good with a spear. He mostly used it like a staff, though at heart, his approach was simply to hit hard with whatever he had.

He knew a few basic moves. Beyond that, he just swung it with all his strength.

His Fist techniques were the same.

He'd trained in those so-called Fist routines too, but soon realized they weren't for him.

Modern Fist techniques had been refined over generations, and most of them emphasized precision.

Each move taught you how to generate force and power, and how to get the most out of every ounce of strength and every bit of momentum.

But that couldn't be helped. Modern society had no supernatural powers. People had different natural abilities, but as long as they learned the right methods and trained hard, the physical gap between them wouldn't be all that great.

People with talent like Lu Bai's were rare, so most had to pursue skill instead.

And if they trained to the utmost, they might even develop a hint of something extraordinary.

Lu Bai had no talent for technical matters, so he didn't bother chasing skill. He relied on his physique instead. Whatever the technique, he'd just hit them.

Of course, when it came to fighting, Lu Bai had plenty of talent.

But talent wasn't the same as natural ability. Natural ability was something you were born with, like Lu Bai's Dragon-like Vitality. Talent had to be put to use. And how did you do that?

"By fighting, of course!" Lu Bai charged forward, spear in hand.

The others dismounted as well, exchanging words in short, swift bursts.

"That's Blood Monk Lu Bai, an External Martial Arts expert!"

"Don't let him get close! Keep your distance!"

Lu Bai advanced while they retreated, never taking their eyes off him.

The scene suddenly turned rather comical. They looked like a group of crabs, backs arched and upper bodies still as they shuffled from side to side, back and forth, matching Lu Bai's movements.

Together, they carved line after line into the snow.

But beneath the comical appearance lay a battle of wills and nerve.

Martial artists were human too. No one had a body of steel—not yet, anyway.

A blow could injure you; a stab could kill you.

Lu Bai could take a few punches and blows from a staff, but when it came to sharp weapons, he still had to dodge.

In a fight like this, they had to keep moving and search for chances and openings.

Every attack had to be cautious. One careless move, and the next moment could be your last.

The mental strain of this kind of fight was immense. They had to stay completely focused.

At first, the group had the advantage. They outnumbered Lu Bai, and he had more things to watch out for.

By contrast, Lu Bai was alone, with so many pairs of eyes fixed on him. That should have put him under tremendous pressure.

But as the standoff continued, Lu Bai only seemed to grow more excited, his smile broadening with every passing moment.

It was as if he couldn't feel the pressure—or perhaps he enjoyed the pressure that came with a fight to the death.

Distracted by that smile, one man's mind wavered for an instant, and his footwork faltered.

That was when Lu Bai moved.

Blood-red energy seemed to ripple around him, like a swimming dragon or a demon crawling up from the depths of hell.

Blood Burning Technique!

His spear opened the way, and then he surged forward.

The man's misstep threw the formation they'd so carefully maintained into disarray.

Lu Bai thrust his spear into that opening, splitting the crowd apart. Then came the sound of a rushing blow.

The next moment, Lu Bai was right in front of him, a blood-red shadow swallowing everything. Instinctively, the man raised his saber and swung.

But his hand felt empty. Something was wrong!

No! It wasn't the feel of the weapon—it was his hand!

As he fell, he saw his twisted body.

With every stomp, the ground churned, mixing mud and melted snow with something new.