Entering Force, Wandering Swordsman

The autumn wind blew bleakly, and withered yellow leaves fell in a rustling drift.

The three corpses lying in the courtyard had all died with their throats slit. Blood still gurgled from their necks, the drunkenness not yet faded from their faces. They had died without a sound, which showed just how swift the killer's blade had been.

These three rogues had been the first ones Hong Yuan killed. After all, he had just landed lightly from the rooftop when he saw them relieving themselves wherever they pleased.

How could that be tolerated?

If they dared to piss and shit anywhere today, then tomorrow they would dare to murder and commit arson, rape and plunder... oh! It seemed they already did those things often. Then they deserved death even more.

Plop! Plop!

Hong Yuan grabbed the corpses off the ground, one in each hand, and in a few swift motions tossed them casually into the room reeking of blood.

At this moment, the gang of rogues inside could no longer disturb the neighbors. Each and every one of them slept very peacefully, motionless, their sleeping postures impeccable.

Hong Yuan saw that the embers in the little stove on the floor had not yet gone out, and that some coals that had rolled loose were still burning. He immediately picked up a kettle and poured water over them. Only after confirming that every source of fire had been snuffed out did he reveal a reassured smile, gently close the door, and step into the courtyard where leaves whirled through the air.

He was different from that pack of scum in the room. He was a proper, pure-hearted gentleman: he only killed people; he did not set fires!

All this movement, from beginning to end, had taken no more than a quarter of an hour. Killing a handful of rogues and even defeating Meng Yue had taken less than ten breaths; the rest of the time had all been spent forcing confessions.

Even if it had caused some slight commotion during that time, firstly, this place was secluded, and secondly, the nearby residents all knew this courtyard had been occupied by a gang of rogues and scoundrels. On normal days they were always drinking themselves senseless, throwing tantrums, and brawling with one another. Ordinary people avoided them like they could not flee fast enough, so how would anyone meddle in others' business?

Hong Yuan did not leave at once, but pondered inwardly.

Yan Tieshan—the local ruffians and hoodlums of Yangquan County mostly called him "Third Master Yan." Because he had entrenched himself at the Yangquan County docks, and because he controlled the livelihoods of Fishery Street and the many coolies at the docks, knocking the marrow from the bones of those poor bastards and sucking them dry, while acting with vicious brutality, people secretly called him the "Dock Yama."

Putting aside the possibility that Yang Erhu had a grudge with Yan Tieshan, just the fact that Yan Tieshan had accepted a task to assassinate him meant Hong Yuan could not possibly let it go lightly.

Moreover, Hong Yuan had just interrogated those rogues as well. He knew that Yan Tieshan only had twenty or thirty core fighters under him, all men who had spent years tempering their strength and had practiced a few moves of fists, kicks, blades, and spears.

Aside from them, there were dozens of hangers-on who mooched food and drink, and who usually also obeyed Yan Tieshan's orders to charge in and beat people. Though they were all young and strong too, they could only fight when the wind favored them. If they ran into an expert taking the field, they would probably scatter in a swarm after a few or a dozen of them had been killed or wounded.

All told, Yan Tieshan had only about a hundred fighters under him.

That night, Yang Erhu had probably killed or wounded a dozen or so of them, and earlier Hong Yuan had killed nearly twenty more. That had almost removed a small half of them. It could be said that right now was the weakest moment for Yan Tieshan's forces. If he did not take this chance to kill him, what was he waiting for?

Hong Yuan had no intention of waiting.

He also wanted to use this opportunity to assess exactly what level his own combat strength had reached.

Three days ago, after he had grasped his qi and blood, he had gone to Yang Erhu that very night for an actual spar. Yang Erhu had not used any killing moves, and Hong Yuan had not gone all out either, yet within just a few breaths of exchanging blows, he had beaten Yang Erhu into bitter misery, forcing him to concede with a wry smile.

In Yang Erhu's words, even in his prime, his skill might not necessarily have surpassed the current Hong Yuan.

Those words carried some weight.

There were thirty-six provinces under Great Yin's heavens. In his youth, Yang Erhu had traveled through the Seven Provinces and crossed hands with many famous experts, and those who could truly defeat him had been few and far between.

It could not be that beyond the Seven Provinces lay another map entirely, where every other person flew through the sky and burrowed through the earth, and demons, devils, ghosts, and monsters also popped out to run rampant, could it?

There was no such logic. It was not as if he had changed worlds.

It was precisely because of Yang Erhu's evaluation that Hong Yuan had the confidence to act alone. There was no need to constantly be suspicious of shadows and ghosts, feeling that he was different from everyone else, and that the moment he stepped outside he would run into some terrifying existence that shattered his worldview. Was that not also a kind of arrogance?

If he could open the [Taisui Blessed Land] right now, it was not as though Hong Yuan could not hide inside the Blessed Land. Would relying on the long years to cultivate by himself not be fragrant?

But he was only a blank-slate [Blessed Land Dao Lord], possessing an empty title and utterly unable to enter and take charge of the Blessed Land. That meant he could not hide. If he really tried to turtle up, he feared that by the time his lifespan ended, the dual crown goals of power and martial strength would still be far beyond reach.

At that point, only regret would remain, and it would be too late.

Having no conditions to hide did not mean Hong Yuan would act recklessly.

"Old Third Yan has to be killed, but before I go kill him, I'll enter True Force first!"

Three days ago, when he had just grasped qi and blood, Hong Yuan had already felt that even if he entered Force in one go, his chance of success would be very high.

And now, after a bout of killing, although it had not been hearty and satisfying, he had a feeling of clear and unobstructed thoughts. Hong Yuan faintly felt that this moment was the best time to enter Force, and that he would certainly succeed.

Some novels liked arranging for the protagonist to break through realms in the middle of an intense battle and overcome a crisis. That was to create a climax and suspense.

Hong Yuan did not need that kind of suspense. What he liked even more was the crushing pleasure of using strength to bully the weak.

He paced to the foot of a Chinese parasol tree in the courtyard. Hong Yuan half-closed his eyes and instantly entered his meditation method, sensing the flow of qi and blood throughout his body, driving his qi and blood to move according to his will.

Hong Yuan's breathing rhythm also changed. Between each inhale and exhale, his breath was long and resonant. It was the "Tiger Roar Breathing Method."

His breathing rhythm slowly resonated with the qi and blood flowing through his body, like the most brilliant commander in an army, neither hurried nor slow, yet deploying troops in an orderly and flawless manner.

The qi and blood of the human body was originally scattered and disordered, like loose soldiers and wandering braves each acting on their own. But following the commands of the "Tiger Roar Breathing Method," the qi and blood within Hong Yuan's body rapidly condensed, its command and mobilization obeying his will in every respect.

Suddenly, Hong Yuan opened his eyes. His foot abruptly exerted force, and the green bricks beneath him cracked with a kacha. His entire body leapt up like a fierce tiger, soaring over two meters high as soon as he moved. While his body was still in midair, he naturally drew out the stance of the Tiger-Subduing Fist.

In the next instant.

Hong Yuan's fist abruptly turned into a palm. He slapped out with astonishing speed, faintly stirring up a whistle of air, and his palm easily stamped onto the thick trunk of the Chinese parasol tree beside him.

With a crisp crack, Hong Yuan's palm seemed to pierce through rotten mud, easily striking a deep palm print into the body of the parasol tree, sinking in all the way to his wrist.

Although the wood of the Chinese parasol tree was relatively light and soft, leaving such a deep palm print with a single strike was still enough to shock someone speechless. If such a palm struck a person, it could easily fracture tendons and bones, tearing flesh and blood apart in all directions.

Hong Yuan landed steadily on both feet, neither panting nor with his heart racing. He sensed his own condition and did not feel weak or exhausted. There was only a slight stagnation in his qi and blood, but he could recover after two or three breaths, still maintaining formidable combat strength.

Hong Yuan clenched his fist. With a slight circulation of the breathing method, he perceived the qi and blood flowing through his arm, and clarity dawned in his heart.

"Once you enter Force, controlling qi and blood becomes much easier. In addition, your own strength and reaction speed also rise quite a bit. Putting aside the killing move of unleashing True Force, relying only on bodily strength and reaction speed, the advantage of a Force-entered martial artist over ordinary people has already opened up. No wonder they can match ten men, or even dozens, alone."

Of course, this did not include certain freaks blessed with extraordinary talent.

Some people were born different—able to run faster, jump farther, even possess innate divine strength. Even without practicing martial arts, they could fight a martial artist who had entered force, even beat him down!

Fortunately, Hong Yuan was one of those freaks too, though his was an acquired achievement thanks to a cheat.

"When Tiger-Subduing Fist is combined with the breathing method, what strikes out is Tiger-Subduing Force. Teacher said that after entering force, what one seeks is variation in force."

"There are three stages of variation. The first is having just entered force, which is my current level. Because True Force is fierce and violent, difficult to control, when a punch is thrown, it's like a dam filled with water opening its floodgates. Trying to shut them again is beyond human power."

"So a martial artist who has just entered force, once he drives his True Force, usually only has the strength for one punch. After that one punch, his qi and blood are completely discharged, and he himself will be drained."

"When this sort of martial artist truly fights to the death, he won't use True Force lightly. Only at the most critical moment will he stake his life on one blow."

Only through years and years of training could a martial artist who had entered force gradually control the floodgates, and strike out True Force multiple times—three times, nine times, twelve times, or even more.

In Yang Erhu's description, along the path of martial arts, these were called Three-Fold Wave, Ninefold Mountain, Twelve-Story Tower...

As for anything above twelve, there was already no need to describe it.

Being able to strike out True Force twelve times in a short period without becoming drained indicated that one's control over True Force had reached an extremely high degree, and that one was gradually stepping into the second stage of force variation—sending and withdrawing at will!

Yang Erhu had once counted as an expert at the "sending and withdrawing at will" stage, but as he grew older and his stamina declined, his control over force had fallen. Now he had regressed to the level of someone who had just entered True Force, still barely able to grasp his qi and blood, with the strength for one strike.

In a few more years, he was afraid Yang Erhu might not even be able to grasp his qi and blood.

It was precisely because Yang Erhu served as a "model" right in front of him that Hong Yuan understood all the more clearly that he could not turtle up. He could not afford to!

"But just now, I used True Force with that palm, and only felt a little discomfort. I feel like striking three more times, nine more times, even twelve more times wouldn't be impossible. There's none of that so-called difficulty in control, none of that 'weak period' after opening the gates and releasing the flood!"

Hong Yuan knew this was because his root-bone talent was too good.

When he first entered this world, his own body had been remade from head to toe by his "transmigration benefits." Back then, he was probably already among the top talents in the world.

And that had only been the initial state.

From the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm" until now, he had added four more threads of root bone one after another, and it seemed that each additional thread was not some linear improvement.

Whether root bone or comprehension, Hong Yuan had long since become different from ordinary people.

"If I cultivate for a while longer, perhaps I can reach the level of 'sending and withdrawing at will.' It's just that the third stage of force variation, 'entering the subtle,' is a little difficult..."

Before entering the subtle, no matter what martial art a martial artist cultivated, the manifestation of their True Force was, in essence, no more than two kinds of qualitative change: hard and soft.

So martial artists at this level could fight dozens, even over a hundred strong men, but once they ran into certain elite armored soldiers, even ten of them required careful handling—either by using swift footwork to fight while roaming, or by retreating outright.

Because hard and soft force could not break armor!

After "entering the subtle," things were different. Martial artists who reached this level controlled force down to the finest hair's breadth, and could already play many tricks with force. From this were derived methods such as Spiral Force, Bone-Penetrating Force, and Air-Separating Force.

Many ingenious uses of force had even been developed by subtle-entry experts specifically to deal with armored soldiers.

Precisely because of this, once many illustrious great households and famous clans discovered a solitary martial artist who had entered the subtle, they would pour out heavy gold, beauty, power, and status to tempt the other party into joining their side.

Experts of this level—even if they could not be drawn in, they were unwilling to make enemies of lightly.

Subtle-entry experts had powerful stamina and ran with extreme speed. Mobilizing an army to surround and kill one person was simply unrealistic; if the other party saw the situation turn bad, he would just run. If only a few dozen people were used, then there was no deterrent at all, and perhaps they would even be counter-killed.

And an enemy like that hid in the dark like a venomous snake, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Unless the great households and nobles never left their doors again, everyone had to be somewhat wary.

The biggest reason Hong Yuan felt "entering the subtle" was difficult was that he did not have the corresponding secret methods of force.

With his comprehension, if he spent some time, he should also be able to comprehend similar force techniques. But since there were ready-made ones in the world to be picked up, why should he waste time comprehending them himself?

Once he had gathered enough subtle-entry force secret methods, wouldn't it be delightful to synthesize the strengths of all schools?

It was still a little early to consider these things. Hong Yuan cast aside distracting thoughts, took several great strides, swept up onto the wall, and left the small courtyard.

He did not go directly to the Yangquan County docks. Instead, he moved through the county streets. When he passed a wine shop, he bought a jug of wine. After taking a gulp, he felt the slightly spicy sensation in his throat, smacked his lips, took another sip, and only then hung the wine jug at his waist.

A long saber hung on his right, a wine jug on his left. He wore a bamboo hat and a black fitted martial outfit, with slightly messy hair spilling down. He looked exactly like a lone wandering swordsman roaming the jianghu.

Hong Yuan traveled all the way to the riverside upstream, several li away from the Yangquan County docks.

At this season, the willow branches along the shore had lost all their green, and yellow leaves swayed in the wind. A line of egrets played in the water at the center of the lake, and several black-awning boats shuttled across the Yudai River, with fishermen in straw rain capes standing aboard.

Several black-awning boats were also moored by the riverside. Their boat owners were not dressed like fishermen. A few young men, perhaps tourists, were speaking with one of the boat owners, discussing the price of taking a boat.

Hong Yuan walked toward a black-awning boat, drawing the attention of the men currently haggling with the boat owner. One of them said, "This young master, are you also taking a boat to tour the lake? Why don't we go together? We can save a little expense."

As soon as the man finished speaking, a companion beside him tugged unobtrusively at the corner of his clothes, signaling him to look at the saber hanging at Hong Yuan's waist.

In the present age, although the trend of roaming knights was indeed flourishing, ordinary people truly did not want to deal with young wanderers.

Hong Yuan smiled and waved his hand. "No need. I like touring the lake alone!"

As he spoke, his gaze swept around, and he called to a boat owner lying in the weeds by the river with one leg crossed over the other: "Boatman, I'm hiring your boat for the day."

What he was going to do right now was kill someone, and he did not want to implicate bystanders. Although after he killed that Yan Tieshan, even if there were fish that slipped through the net, they might not care whose boat he had taken, but since it could be avoided, paying a little attention did no harm.

And when he had swept his gaze across the riverside from afar just now, he had seen this boat owner's shifty brows and ratlike eyes constantly glancing at the waist pouches of those young men. His eyeballs rolled about, clearly harboring ill intent.

The boat owner with one leg crossed over the other scrambled to his feet. He was a thin-faced man in his thirties. Seeing Hong Yuan's extraordinary clothing and bearing, his eyes lit up, but then he noticed the saber at Hong Yuan's side and immediately dismissed certain thoughts, only smiling as he said, "Right away. Honored guest, please board."

Hong Yuan boarded the boat unhurriedly. As the hull swayed, the boat owner worked the wooden oar and smiled. "Where does the honored guest wish to go sightseeing?"

"Just to see the scenery along this stretch of the river. Go all the way downstream to the Yangquan County docks."

Killing also required strategy.

Hong Yuan would not be so stupid as to directly storm Yan Tieshan's old nest.

Yan Tieshan was no Wei Zhenzhu. For all Wei Zhenzhu's filthy appearance, she had been born into a great clan, and in the end, there would not be that many mechanisms and traps in her "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm."

Yan Tieshan was different. From what Hong Yuan knew, the man had started out as a dock laborer, and had made his fortune by relying on his great strength, his willingness to fight and kill, and catching the eye of the dock boss at the time.

Yan Tieshan had risen from the bottom. Inside that gambling den of his, if someone truly tried to fight their way in from outside all the way to Yan Tieshan himself, who knew how many hidden plots and traps they would run into? Those ruffians and hired thugs would not fight their opponents openly with bright blades and spears either.

If you barged in rashly, putting aside hidden weapons and mechanisms, what if a basin of excrement water came splashing over? Would you dodge, or not?

If you did not dodge, the filth would drench you, disgusting you so badly you would vomit up even last night's meal, and your combat strength would drop by at least half. If you dodged, you might step into some other trap.

Though Hong Yuan was confident in his own strength, he was not so arrogant as to look down on everything. That would be far too stupid.

Zhou Botong, an expert on the level of the Five Greats, had still fallen to the fishnet formation in Passionless Valley.

Yan Nantian, said to be so mighty that when his divine sword swept out, one could feel the sword wind on one's face from ten li away—never mind whether that was exaggerated or not—was in any case a peak expert of his era. Yet after entering the Valley of Villains, he too had fallen among all manner of poisons, hidden weapons, and traps.

There were too many precedents. Hong Yuan had no choice but to guard against them.

Fortunately, he did not need to personally storm Yan Tieshan's lair. There were plenty of ways to force the other party out. With a single turn of his mind, Hong Yuan could think of at least nine!

The black-awning boat drifted downstream, rocking and swaying. Even though the boatman had hardly rowed, its speed was not slow.

Hong Yuan stood at the bow with his hands clasped behind his back, his figure upright as a pine. The river wind stirred his robes, giving him rather the air of a newly emerged young wanderer, high-spirited and full of heroic ambition.

Only the brim of his bamboo hat was pressed low, covering half his face. Otherwise, he would surely have drawn the attention of the young ladies sightseeing along the bank.

As the dock gradually came into view, a salty, fishy smell rushed at him, while waves of clamor and noise entered his ears. Four cargo ships were moored at the dock, and at the same time, a large ship was slowly sailing over, about to approach the pier.

That large ship flew a flag bearing the character "Tao." It came cleaving through wind and waves. The people on the dock saw it from afar, and immediately quite a few cried out in surprise; clearly, it had no small background.

"The Tao Family's ship is here! Hurry up and clear the berth! Damn it, all of you move the cargo faster!" A man with a fat, broad face but unusually thick arms jumped up and shouted loudly.

This man was the overseer Yan Tieshan had sent to the dock. Following his shouts, more than ten tough, capable thugs in short fighting clothes brandished clubs and began berating people. "Move, move, move! You pack of dog bastards, what are you dawdling for? Want to slack off? Then don't even think about getting today's wages!"

Smack!

With a flick of his hand, one thug brought his club down on a laborer's back. The blow made the man's body tremble, but he gritted his teeth tightly and did not dare cry out.

Instead, over on the other side, a dark-skinned, thin laborer in his fifties was panting harshly. His foot failed to find firm purchase on the slick dock; his body slipped, and the cargo crate he had been carrying on his back toppled down in an instant.

Inside the crate were bolts of cloth. When it struck the hard ground, the box split open, and the cloth immediately rolled out, becoming stained with the salty, fishy grime.

The old laborer's face changed drastically. So frightened that both legs shook, he hurriedly knelt to pick it up, but several thugs had already seen the scene. At once, two of them came over with darkened faces.

The old laborer hurriedly begged for mercy. "Masters, I was wrong. This lowly one didn't hold it steady. This lowly one will pick it up right away!"

"Didn't hold it steady? Fuck your mother, did you not eat today? Why don't you go eat shit?" one thug cursed as he kicked him to the ground. At the same time, he swung the wooden club in his hand, smashing it toward one of the old laborer's arms.

"Stop!"

Just then, a clear shout rang out. Immediately after, a piece of bluestone flew from the river, crossing the distance, and struck the back of the club-wielding thug's hand with perfect accuracy. There was a crisp crack of bone breaking, and the thug let out a miserable scream.

The black-awning boat slowly drew up to the dock. The shifty-eyed boatman stared dumbfounded as Hong Yuan tossed out one of the stones he used to weigh down the boat, then leapt onto the dock and let out a stern, righteous shout. "In broad daylight, beneath a clear and shining heaven! How dare you bully the old and weak like this? Is there no heavenly principle or royal law left?"