A Fight to the Death in a Small Room, a Single Finger Shatters the Throat

Inside the meditation room, the two men facing each other both understood clearly: today, only one of them would walk out of this door alive.

Zhu Yingxiong would never let him go, and the other man likewise knew that from the moment he had been caught red-handed, there had been no way back.

More subtly, both of them shared the same concern: they absolutely could not make too much noise and draw the attention of others in the temple.

A deadly battle was confined to this tiny meditation room.

In the dead silence, killing intent stretched taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

Without a shout, the two moved almost at the same instant!

Zhu Yingxiong lunged forward, his right index and middle fingers held together like a sword. Silently, he stabbed straight at the other man's throat, concentrating all his killing intent at his fingertips.

At the same time, the menial monk sprang up. With a turn of his right palm, a dark bluish layer spread across it as it carried a bone-chilling, sinister gust of force toward Zhu Yingxiong's chest.

In that split second, Zhu Yingxiong made his choice.

Not only did he neither dodge nor retreat, his left arm suddenly rose, one palm held upright as it met the incoming strike. It seemed slow but was in fact swift—he intended to take the blow head-on!

At the same time, the deadly sword fingers of his right hand did not slow in the slightest, continuing toward the man's throat.

Seeing Zhu Yingxiong prepare to receive his palm force directly, a vicious glint flashed in the menial monk's eyes.

His right palm came even faster, while his left hand had already shot out like a ghost. Its five fingers formed a claw, accurately seizing the pulse point on Zhu Yingxiong's right wrist!

Perhaps Zhu Yingxiong's overly youthful face had given him the wrong impression.

After decades of bitter cultivation, he did not believe Zhu Yingxiong could match him in a contest of palm strength.

Pfft!

A muffled yet exceptionally solid sound of flesh striking flesh exploded in the cramped room.

The instant their palms met, the menial monk's left hand successfully clamped onto the pulse point of Zhu Yingxiong's right wrist!

A smug, savage grin unconsciously tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The next instant, however, the smile froze completely, replaced by horror and disbelief!

He was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He had not only underestimated the youth before him, but had also misjudged the power of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture.

His right palm had not crushed and severely injured his opponent as expected. Instead, it was violently jolted back by a pure, immense force, leaving his right arm numb and aching as his blood and qi churned!

His five left fingers had clearly locked tightly around Zhu Yingxiong's wrist, yet before he could exert force and restrain it, an enormous power burst forth from beneath the wrist's sinews and bones!

It not only instantly flung his tightly clasped fingers away, but also left all five fingers and half his palm numb with pain. All they left behind on Zhu Yingxiong's wrist were several nail marks that shifted from white to red, and he could no longer impose any restraint.

All these sudden changes occurred in the blink of an eye during that exchange of palms.

There was no time for any reaction.

Zhu Yingxiong's sword fingers had already struck his throat.

Crack!

A faint, crisp snap.

Finger force shattered his throat bone.

A wheezing gurgle escaped his throat. His eyes bulged wide, filled with bloodshot veins and the bewilderment of impending death.

That once utterly ordinary face twisted under the extreme agony and arrival of death, its features contorting into something exceptionally savage and terrifying.

His left hand, which had been clutching Zhu Yingxiong's sleeve, slid down weakly. His raised right arm also drooped helplessly. His body swayed, then, like a snake whose spine had been pulled out, collapsed limply backward.

Death came silently and swiftly. This hidden traitor from the Yingui Sect did not even leave behind a name.

Zhu Yingxiong slowly withdrew his right hand. Several red marks left by fingernails on his wrist stung faintly, beading with tiny droplets of blood.

He lowered his head to inspect his left palm. It was slightly reddened. A trace of the man's yin palm force had seeped in, bringing a faint chill, but the circulating true qi of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture was rapidly dispersing it.

Killing someone was easy enough, but dealing with the corpse was another matter.

Daylight was bright outside the window. Morning lessons at Shaolin Temple had just ended, and though monks were not passing by in dense numbers, there were certainly quite a few about.

In broad daylight, quietly transporting the corpse of a grown man out of the temple was nearly impossible.

And he was no master mason; he could not simply brick the body into a wall.

Fortunately, he had already come up with several alternatives.

Straightening his slightly disheveled monk's robes, he pushed open the door and headed directly for Master Worryless's meditation chamber.

Before the time it took to drink half a cup of tea.

Master Worryless and Elder Unattached arrived together at Zhu Yingxiong's meditation room. Shortly afterward, Master Angerless, head of the Discipline Hall, arrived with several disciples, including Yuan Jie, whom Zhu Yingxiong knew well.

Master Angerless was a lean, gaunt old monk with refined features, but his eyes were strikingly intimidating.

The arrival of these men immediately made the small meditation room solemn and tense.

Zhu Yingxiong pressed his palms together in salute and calmly repeated what he had told his master earlier, his voice carrying just the right amount of lingering fear and unease. "This disciple returned to his room to retrieve something and noticed someone secretly watching me. After I exposed him, he suddenly attacked. Forced to defend myself, this disciple had no choice but to... strike him down."

By then, Yuan Jie had crouched to carefully examine the corpse. He turned over its hands to inspect the color of the skin around its knuckles, then examined the fatal throat wound, his movements practiced and efficient.

Beside him, Elder Unattached fingered his prayer beads and said slowly, "This old monk has given him a cursory examination. He should be one of the devil path's whelps."

Angerless looked at the corpse and asked Yuan Jie, "Did you find anything?" His voice was as cold and hard as iron.

Yuan Jie rose and replied solemnly, "Master. This man's palm and finger joints differ from those of ordinary people. He cultivated an exceptionally vicious, supple-force art. The fatal wound is at the Adam's apple, where the bones were completely shattered by a single penetrating strike—clean and decisive."

As he spoke, his gaze could not help drifting toward Zhu Yingxiong. Master Angerless and the other disciples of the Discipline Hall also turned their eyes toward the young monk.

Zhu Yingxiong lowered his eyes slightly and recited a Buddhist invocation. "Amitabha. With life and death hanging by a thread, this little monk had no choice but to go all out."

"Martial Nephew Yuan Zhen, there is no need to take it to heart," Elder Unattached said gently. "Vanquishing evil and defending the righteous path is the duty of our generation. Why show mercy to someone who lurked and spied upon us, then suddenly attacked and injured another? You did the right thing." His words offered clear support.

Master Angerless's gaze returned to the corpse's dull gray menial monk robes. After a moment of thought, he said, "It seems people of the devil path infiltrated our temple under the guise of menial workers, waiting for a chance to spy on our temple's secrets. This is no trivial matter."

He raised his head, his expression grave. "I will immediately report this to the abbot and strengthen the temple's security and inspections. All menial workers, kitchen hands, and the like must have their identities and backgrounds verified anew, lest more spies slip in."

Master Worryless said, "Then we shall trouble you, Junior Brother Angerless."

"It is my duty." Master Angerless returned the salute, then ordered his disciples, "Move the corpse to the Discipline Hall for a thorough examination."

Two disciples from the Discipline Hall stepped forward, wrapped the corpse in the burlap they had already prepared, and swiftly carried it away. Master Angerless then pressed his palms together toward Worryless and Unattached before hurrying off with his remaining disciples, clearly to arrange the investigation.

Master Worryless and Elder Unattached offered Zhu Yingxiong a few more words of comfort, telling him not to dwell on it and to focus on cultivation. Seeing that his demeanor had gradually steadied, they too departed in turn.

The meditation room door closed again. Only Zhu Yingxiong remained inside, along with a small patch of dark red stains on the floor that had not yet fully dried and the faint, lingering smell of blood in the air.

Zhu Yingxiong stood quietly in the room, replaying the entire incident from beginning to end in his mind. He carefully went over every exchange and each person's expression once more.

For now, it seemed he had not revealed any flaws.

A devil path spy had infiltrated the temple and been killed. All sides had accepted this conclusion, and it accorded with most people's understanding.

The crisis had temporarily passed. It had even unexpectedly "cleared" him of any possible suspicions. A disciple targeted by the devil path and forced to fight back would naturally be more deserving of sympathy and protection.

Without further delay, he gathered his thoughts, pushed open the door, and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. This time, he headed straight toward the Scripture Repository.

Time was precious. Today, he had wasted nearly half the day. He needed to make the most of the remaining time and continue his great undertaking of "collecting" Shaolin's ultimate arts.