The autumn wind blew bleakly, and yellowed leaves fell with a rustle.
The three bodies lying in the courtyard had all died with their throats slit. Blood still welled from their necks, and the drunkenness had yet to leave their faces. They had died without a sound—a testament to the killer's swift blade.
These three thugs had been Hong Yuan's first victims. After all, he had barely dropped lightly from the roof when he spotted them relieving themselves wherever they pleased.
How could he let that stand?
Today they dared relieve themselves in public; tomorrow they would dare murder, burn, rape, and pillage... Oh! Apparently they already did those things all the time. All the more reason they deserved to die.
Thump! Thump!
Hong Yuan grabbed the bodies two at a time and, in a few quick moves, tossed them into the room that reeked of blood.
The thugs inside could no longer disturb the neighbors. Every last one slept peacefully, perfectly still, their sleeping postures impeccable.
Hong Yuan noticed that embers still glowed in the little stove on the floor, and a few coals that had rolled free were burning too. He promptly fetched a kettle and poured water over them. Only after making certain he had extinguished every source of fire did he smile in relief, gently close the door, and step into the courtyard where leaves drifted through the air.
Unlike the scum in that room, he was an upstanding, kindhearted gentleman. He only killed people; he did not set fires!
The whole affair had taken no more than a quarter of an hour. Killing the thugs and even defeating Meng Yue had taken fewer than ten breaths. The rest of the time had gone into extracting answers.
It had caused a little commotion, but the place was secluded. Besides, the nearby residents knew a gang of thugs had taken over the courtyard. They were forever getting drunk, making scenes, and brawling among themselves. Ordinary folk avoided them like the plague; why would anyone meddle?
Hong Yuan did not leave at once. He stood thinking.
Yan Tieshan was known to Yangquan County's local hoodlums as "Third Master Yan." He controlled the county docks and held the livelihoods of Fishery Street and countless dock laborers in his hands, sucking the marrow from their bones. His brutal methods had also earned him another name behind his back: "the Dockside King of Hell."
Whatever grudge Yang Erhu might have had with Yan Tieshan, the fact that Yan Tieshan had accepted a job to assassinate Hong Yuan was reason enough for Hong Yuan not to let the matter rest.
Besides, Hong Yuan had just questioned those thugs. He knew Yan Tieshan had only twenty or thirty core enforcers—men who had spent years building their strength and learned a few tricks with fists, feet, blades, and spears.
Another few dozen hangers-on ate and drank at Yan Tieshan's expense and followed his orders to charge and beat people. Young and strong though they were, they could only fight when the tide ran their way. Against an expert, killing or wounding ten or so would probably send the rest scattering.
All told, Yan Tieshan had around a hundred men.
Yang Erhu might have killed or wounded a dozen or more that night, and Hong Yuan had just killed nearly twenty. Almost half were gone. Yan Tieshan's forces were at their weakest right now. If Hong Yuan did not kill him now, what was he waiting for?
Hong Yuan had no intention of waiting.
He also wanted to use this chance to gauge just how strong he had become.
Three days earlier, after gaining a grip on his vital energy and blood, he had sought out Yang Erhu that evening for a real sparring match. Yang Erhu had held back his killing moves, and Hong Yuan had not gone all out either. Even so, within a few exchanges Hong Yuan had driven him to bitter straits, until he conceded with a rueful smile.
According to Yang Erhu, even in his prime, he might not have been more skilled than Hong Yuan was now.
That assessment carried weight.
Great Yin had thirty-six provinces. In his youth, Yang Erhu had roamed the Seven Provinces and crossed hands with many renowned experts. Very few had truly been able to beat him.
Surely the land beyond those seven provinces was not an entirely different map, full of people flying through the sky and burrowing through the earth, with monsters and demons running rampant too?
That made no sense. It was not as though he had entered a different world.
It was Yang Erhu's assessment that gave Hong Yuan the confidence to act alone. He did not need to keep jumping at shadows, imagining that because he was different, the moment he stepped outside he would encounter some terrifying being that shattered his understanding of the world. Was that not its own kind of arrogance?
If he could open the Taisui Blessed Land now, Hong Yuan would not have minded hiding away there. What could be better than having all the time in the world to cultivate by himself?
But he was only a Blessed Land Dao Lord in name, with nothing to show for it. He could not enter the blessed land at all, so hiding away was out of the question. If he tried, he would probably reach the end of his life with his goal of reigning supreme in both power and martial might still far beyond reach.
By then, regret would come too late.
The fact that he could not afford to hide did not mean Hong Yuan would act recklessly.
"Old Third Yan has to die, but before I go after him, I'll first break into True Force!"
Three days ago, right after gaining a grip on his vital energy and blood, Hong Yuan had felt he had a good chance of succeeding if he pressed on into True Force.
Now, after a fight that had not even let him cut loose, he felt a strange clarity of mind. He had a faint sense that this was the best moment to break through, and that he was certain to succeed.
Some novels liked to have their protagonists break through in the heat of a desperate battle, overcoming the odds. It made for excitement and suspense.
Hong Yuan had no need for that kind of suspense. He preferred the exhilaration of crushing the weak with overwhelming strength.
He paced beneath a wutong tree in the courtyard and half-closed his eyes. Instantly entering meditation, he sensed the flow of vital energy and blood throughout his body and guided it with his will.
The rhythm of Hong Yuan's breathing changed as well. Each inhale and exhale was deep and drawn out: the Tiger Roar Breathing Method.
The rhythm of his breath gradually resonated with the vital energy and blood coursing through him. Like a masterful battlefield commander, he deployed his troops without haste, yet in perfect order.
Ordinarily, the body's vital energy and blood were scattered and disordered, like stragglers each going their own way. But at the command of the Tiger Roar Breathing Method, they rapidly gathered within Hong Yuan, answering his every direction.
Suddenly, Hong Yuan opened his eyes and drove hard off the ground. The courtyard bricks cracked beneath his feet as he sprang upward like a tiger, clearing more than two meters in a single bound. Still in midair, he naturally settled into the stance of the Tiger-Subduing Fist.
The next instant—
Hong Yuan's fist opened into a palm and struck with astonishing speed. The blow faintly set the air howling as his palm landed effortlessly against the thick trunk of the wutong tree.
Crack! His palm punched into the trunk as easily as if it were rotten mud, leaving a deep print that swallowed his hand up to the wrist.
Wutong wood was fairly light and soft, but a palm strike that drove so deep into it was enough to leave anyone speechless. If it struck a person, it could easily break bones and tendons and tear flesh apart.
Hong Yuan landed steadily on both feet, neither panting nor feeling his heart race. Taking stock of himself, he felt no weakness or exhaustion, only a slight sluggishness in his vital energy and blood. That cleared after two or three breaths. He remained ready to fight at full strength.
Hong Yuan clenched his fist. With the slightest prompting from his breathing method, he sensed his vital energy and blood flowing through his arm, and understood.
"Once you enter True Force, controlling vital energy and blood becomes much easier. My strength and reaction speed have improved considerably too. Even without the killing move of unleashing True Force, a martial artist at this level has a clear advantage over ordinary people in strength and speed. No wonder one can take on ten, even dozens."
Of course, that did not include the freaks born with extraordinary gifts.
Some people were different from birth. They could run faster, jump farther, or even possess Innate Divine Strength. Without any martial training, they could fight someone who had entered True Force—and perhaps even beat them into the ground!
Fortunately, Hong Yuan was one of those freaks too, though his gift had come later, courtesy of his cheat.
"The Tiger-Subduing Fist combined with the breathing method produces Tiger-Subduing Force. Teacher said that after entering True Force, the next goal is to master its transformations."
"There are three stages. The first is where I am now: just entering True Force. It's so violent and hard to control that throwing a punch is like opening the floodgates of a full dam. Once it starts pouring out, no human strength can shut them again."
"So a martial artist who has just entered True Force usually has only one such punch. Afterward, all their vital energy and blood drain away, leaving them spent."
"In a real fight, they won't use True Force lightly. Only when the danger is greatest will they stake everything on that one blow."
Only through long years of training could a True Force martial artist gradually gain control of the floodgates and strike with True Force again and again—three times, nine times, twelve times, or more.
As Yang Erhu had explained, those levels were known in the martial world as Three-Fold Wave, Ninefold Mountain, Twelve-Story Tower...
There was no need to describe anything beyond twelve.
Being able to unleash True Force twelve times in quick succession without tiring showed an extremely high degree of control. Such a person was beginning to enter the second stage of force transformation: Receive-and-Release-at-Will!
Yang Erhu had once been an expert at the Receive-and-Release-at-Will level. But as he aged, his stamina and control over his force declined. Now he had fallen back to the level of someone newly entered into True Force. He could still hold his vital energy and blood in check and deliver one blow.
In a few more years, he would probably lose even that control.
With Yang Erhu right in front of him as an example, Hong Yuan understood all the more clearly that he could not hide away. He could not afford to!
"But I just used True Force in that palm strike, and I feel only a little discomfort. It feels as though I could strike three more times, nine more, even twelve more. There's none of that difficulty controlling it, none of that 'weak period' after opening the floodgates!"
Hong Yuan knew it was because his Root Bone was simply too good.
When he first arrived in this world, his "traveler's benefit" had remade him from the ground up. Even then, his talent had probably ranked among the very best in the world.
And that had only been the starting point.
From the Jade Wutong Immortal Realm until now, he had gained another four traces of Root Bone in all. Each additional trace did not seem to be a mere linear improvement.
Whether in Root Bone or Comprehension, Hong Yuan had long since surpassed ordinary people.
"With a little more training, I may reach Receive-and-Release-at-Will. The third stage of force transformation, Subtlety, might be harder..."
Before reaching Subtlety, no matter what art a martial artist practiced, their True Force ultimately manifested in only two ways: hard or soft.
At that level, they could fight dozens or even a hundred strong men. But against elite armored soldiers, even ten would require care. They would have to circle and harry them with swift footwork, or retreat outright.
Hard and soft force could not pierce armor!
Subtlety changed that. At that stage, a martial artist's control of force became precise down to the tiniest degree, allowing all manner of intricate tricks. From it came methods such as Spiral Force, Bone-Penetrating Force, and Air-Piercing Force.
Many clever uses of force had even been developed by masters of Subtlety specifically to deal with armored soldiers.
That was why powerful houses and illustrious clans, on discovering a lone martial artist who had reached Subtlety, would offer vast sums, beautiful companions, and authority to entice that person to join them.
Even if they could not win over an expert of that caliber, they were unwilling to make an enemy lightly.
Masters of Subtlety had tremendous stamina and could run at incredible speed. Mobilizing an army to surround and kill one was impractical: the target could simply flee at the first sign of trouble. Send only a few dozen men, and they posed little threat. The master might even kill them instead.
And an enemy like that could lurk in the shadows like a venomous snake, waiting for a chance to strike. Unless the powerful shut themselves indoors forever, they would have to fear such a foe.
The main reason Hong Yuan thought Subtlety would be difficult was that he lacked the corresponding secret force techniques.
With his Comprehension, he could probably work out similar techniques if he spent enough time. But if ready-made ones were out there for the taking, why waste time figuring them out himself?
Would it not be better to collect enough secret force techniques at the Subtlety level, then combine the strengths of them all?
That was still a distant concern. Hong Yuan cast aside his stray thoughts, took a few long strides, and swept over the wall, leaving the little courtyard behind.
He did not head straight for the Yangquan County docks. Instead, he made his way through the county streets. Passing a tavern, he bought a flask of wine and took a swig. He savored the slight burn in his throat, smacked his lips, drank again, then hung the flask at his waist.
A long saber at his right hip, a wine flask at his left, a bamboo hat on his head and dark fitted clothes on his back, with slightly unruly hair falling loose—he looked every inch a lone wanderer of the martial world.
Hong Yuan traveled on until he reached the riverbank several miles upstream from the Yangquan County docks.
At this time of year, the willows along the bank had lost all their green, and yellow leaves swayed in the wind. A line of white egrets played in the middle of the river. Several black-canopied boats crossed the Yudai River, fishermen in rain capes standing aboard them.
A few more black-canopied boats were moored at the bank. Their owners were not dressed as fishermen. Several young men, perhaps sightseers, were talking to one boatman and negotiating a fare.
Hong Yuan walked toward one of the boats, drawing the attention of the young men haggling with the boatman. One called out, "Young master, are you taking a boat out on the river too? Why not come with us? We could save a little money."
As soon as he spoke, a companion discreetly tugged his sleeve and motioned toward the saber at Hong Yuan's waist.
Wandering swordsmen might be admired in this age, but ordinary people did not truly want to deal with them.
Hong Yuan smiled and waved a hand. "No, thanks. I prefer going alone."
As he spoke, his gaze swept over the boats. He called to an owner lying in the grass by the river with one leg crossed over the other. "Boatman, I'm hiring your whole boat today."
He was going to kill someone and did not want to drag bystanders into it. After he killed Yan Tieshan, any survivors might not care whose boat he had taken. Still, if he could avoid involving anyone, it cost him nothing to be careful.
Besides, when he had scanned the riverbank from afar, he had spotted this boatman's shifty eyes darting again and again toward the young men's money pouches. The man was plainly up to no good.
The boatman scrambled to his feet. He was a gaunt man in his thirties. Hong Yuan's fine clothes and bearing made his eyes light up, but the saber at Hong Yuan's side promptly put certain ideas out of his head. Smiling, he said, "Right away! Please, come aboard, honored guest."
Hong Yuan boarded at an unhurried pace. As the boat rocked and the boatman worked the wooden oar, the man asked with a smile, "Where would you like to go sightseeing?"
"Let's take in this stretch of river. Downstream to the Yangquan County docks."
Even killing required a strategy.
Hong Yuan was not foolish enough to storm Yan Tieshan's lair.
Yan Tieshan was no Wei Zhenzhu. Filthy as Wei Zhenzhu had looked, she had come from a great clan. Her Jade Wutong Immortal Realm was not likely to be full of traps and mechanisms.
Yan Tieshan was different. From what Hong Yuan knew, he had started as a dock laborer and risen after his strength and willingness to fight and kill caught the eye of the dock boss of the day.
Yan Tieshan had come from the bottom. If Hong Yuan fought his way through Yan Tieshan's gambling den to reach him, who knew how many ambushes and traps he would face? Those thug enforcers would not fight openly, blade against blade.
If he barged in and someone threw a bucket of filthy water at him—never mind hidden weapons and traps—would he dodge or not?
If he did not, he would be drenched in filth, sick enough to vomit last night's dinner, and lose at least half his fighting ability. If he dodged, he might step into another trap.
Hong Yuan was confident in his strength, but he would not underestimate everything. That would be too stupid.
Even Zhou Botong, an expert on the level of the Five Greats, had fallen to Passionless Valley's fishing-net formation.
Yan Nantian was said to wield his divine sword with such force that its wind could be felt ten miles away. Exaggeration or not, he had been one of the greatest experts of his time. Yet in the Valley of Villains, he too had fallen prey to poisons, hidden weapons, and traps.
There were too many such examples for Hong Yuan not to be wary.
Fortunately, he did not need to storm Yan Tieshan's lair himself. There were plenty of ways to draw the man out. With a moment's thought, Hong Yuan could think of at least nine!
The black-canopied boat bobbed downstream. Even without much rowing from the boatman, it moved at a decent pace.
Hong Yuan stood at the bow with his hands behind his back, straight as a pine. The river breeze stirred his clothes, lending him the air of a spirited wandering swordsman setting out into the world.
Only the low brim of his bamboo hat hid half his face. Otherwise, he might have caught the eyes of the young women strolling along the bank.
As the docks came into view, a salty, fishy smell struck him, along with waves of clamor. Four cargo boats were moored there, while a larger vessel was slowly approaching.
The large vessel flew a flag marked "Tao" as it cut through the wind and waves. People on the docks spotted it from afar, and many immediately cried out in surprise. Clearly, it was no ordinary ship.
"The Tao Family ship is here! Clear that berth! Damn it, move the cargo, all of you—now!" shouted a man with a broad, fleshy face and unusually thick arms, springing to his feet.
He was the foreman Yan Tieshan had stationed at the docks. At his shout, more than a dozen tough enforcers in short working clothes brandished clubs and barked, "Move, move, move! What are you dogs dawdling for? Trying to slack off? Then forget about today's pay!"
Crack!
One enforcer swung his club into a laborer's back. The man shuddered from the blow but gritted his teeth, not daring to cry out.
Nearby, another laborer—a thin, dark-skinned man in his fifties—was panting hard. His foot slipped on the wet dock, and the cargo crate he carried on his back toppled at once.
The crate was packed with cloth. It struck the hard ground and split open, sending bolts of fabric rolling out into the salty grime.
The old laborer's face went white. His legs shook with terror as he knelt to gather them up. But several enforcers had already seen what happened, and two of them closed in with dark expressions.
The old laborer hurried to plead for mercy. "Masters, I was wrong! My hands slipped. I'll pick it all up right away!"
"Your hands slipped? Fuck you! Haven't you eaten? Why don't you eat shit instead?" One enforcer cursed and kicked him to the ground, then raised his club to smash one of the old man's arms.
"Stop!"
A clear shout rang out. A piece of bluestone flew from far out on the river and struck the club-wielding enforcer square on the back of his hand. Bone cracked, and the man screamed.
The black-canopied boat eased against the dock. Its shifty-eyed owner stared openmouthed as Hong Yuan, having hurled one of the stones he used to weigh down the boat, leaped ashore and thundered with righteous indignation, "In broad daylight, beneath the open sky! How dare you bully the old and weak? Is there no law or justice left?"
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