A Fierce Battle with the Four Fiends, the Sickly Ghost Slain with a Finger

"Hah!"

Like thunder exploding, Lei Hong's octagonal bronze hammer came crashing down toward Zhu Yingxiong's head with the force of wind and lightning! Before the hammer even arrived, the fierce gust it generated had already made breathing difficult.

At the same time, two crude serrated daggers skimmed along the ground like starving dogs pouncing on food, striking at his lower body. Their cold blades targeted the tendons and bones of his legs, vicious and insidious.

With a sharp rattle, a fine steel chain snaked around behind him like a venomous serpent. The gleaming tiger-claw hook at its end shot straight for the flesh beneath his ribs!

The three struck decisively and ruthlessly.

This was utterly different from the sparring matches between fellow disciples at the temple.

There was no stopping at the right point, no yielding out of courtesy—every move was a killing blow meant to take his life.

"Bang!"

A heavy, muffled crash exploded through the cramped restaurant.

Zhu Yingxiong remained seated. His right palm flipped upward in an instant, neither dodging nor evading, and he actually caught the octagonal bronze hammer crashing down on him with nothing but his bare hand!

At the same time, Zhu Yingxiong's left hand reached behind his back. His index finger curled, and without even looking, guided solely by his awareness of the surrounding energy, he lightly flicked at the tiger-claw hook that had reached his ribs—

"Clang—!"

A clear ring of metal striking metal echoed through the restaurant. The fine steel chain shuddered violently from the force of that single finger, as if struck by lightning, and the tiger-claw hook flew off at an angle.

By then, the two serrated daggers had already slashed toward Zhu Yingxiong's legs—

Zhu Yingxiong merely lifted his right foot slightly and, as lightly as a dragonfly touching water, kicked each blade once.

The force was perfectly measured—not too heavy, not too light—yet it sent both daggers flying aside with unerring precision.

As palm and hammer met, Lei Hong felt an incomparably powerful force rebound through the hammer. His tiger's mouth shook violently, and the octagonal bronze hammer nearly flew from his grip!

Terror surged through him. This little monk had remained seated and taken his full-force blow with a single palm? How could his palm force be so terrifying?

Cui San staggered back half a step, the iron chain in his hand recoiling and nearly wrapping around his own wrist.

Fan Sheng's tiger's mouth jolted even harder. One dagger flew from his hand, and he stumbled backward again and again.

The three exchanged glances, their hearts filled with indescribable shock.

At that moment, Wu Ji finally rose in a hunched posture, clutching his chest. He had been kicked into the air and smashed into the door panel. Blood still hung at the corner of his mouth, and his face was pale as paper, but his eyes were filled with malice and madness.

"Cough, cough..." Wu Ji said hoarsely, "This one's tough. Stop holding back. Attack together."

Lei Hong steadied himself, gripping the octagonal bronze hammer with both hands. After taking a deep breath, he said in a low voice, "This kid's palm force is strange. Don't compete with him in internal strength."

With that, he stepped forward and swung both hammers, smashing them one after another at Zhu Yingxiong from the front! The hammer shadows loomed like mountains, heavy and powerful, every strike forcing Zhu Yingxiong to divide his attention to deal with it.

He did not seek to kill with one blow, only to use overwhelming strength to hold him down and create an opening for his companions.

Fan Sheng sprang up from the ground, snatching up the two serrated daggers, his eyes flashing with ferocity. He no longer launched sneak attacks from the ground. Instead, using Lei Hong's hammer shadows as cover, he circled Zhu Yingxiong like a rabid dog, darting left and right as blade light flickered in and out of sight.

Cui San drew the chain back into his hand and gave it a shake. The fine steel chain seemed to come alive in his grasp. He did not attack immediately, but quietly retreated two steps and slipped into the shadows in the corner of the restaurant.

The chain swayed softly in his hand, making a faint rattling sound like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. He waited only for Zhu Yingxiong to reveal a flaw, then he would strike from the most treacherous angle, locking onto his throat or hooking his wrist.

He hunched over and coughed, while a cold, serpent-like gleam flickered in his deeply sunken eyes.

His weapons were hidden in his sleeves: two short iron spikes, barely a foot long, pitch-black throughout, as thin as fingers, with needle-sharp tips. The spikes were coated in deadly poison. The moment they drew blood, they sealed the throat; even a scratch through the skin would cause the poison to erupt and kill within moments.

Wu Ji's martial arts were as vicious and underhanded as the man himself. He never attacked an opponent head-on. He only struck in the instant his target was least guarded, stabbing from the most devious angle with the deadliest blow.

The groin, the small of the back, the throat, the temples—these most vulnerable vital points of the human body were his favorite targets.

At this moment, taking advantage of the chaos as Lei Hong attacked head-on, Fan Sheng prowled along the flank, and Cui San watched from the shadows, he quietly drew closer.

One step, two steps, three steps—

He was now less than five feet from Zhu Yingxiong.

The four had worked together for years, their coordination flawless. They had no idea how many opponents far stronger than themselves they had killed with this method.

Truth be told, taken individually, none of these four possessed martial arts equal to Zhu Yingxiong's.

Lei Hong's hammer techniques were powerful but lacked variation; Fan Sheng's daggers were fierce but disorderly; Cui San's chain was tricky, but his internal strength was ordinary; and Wu Ji's two poisoned spikes relied entirely on sneak attacks—he could not withstand even a single exchange in a direct confrontation.

But this was a true jianghu death match. There had never been any need for an honorable fight.

And so Zhu Yingxiong truly felt the pressure.

And so he rose to meet them in full readiness.

Lei Hong's bronze hammer came crashing down once more. Fan Sheng's dagger gouged toward the back of Zhu Yingxiong's knee at the same time. Cui San's chain rattled as though ready to strike—

Now!

A vicious glint flashed through Wu Ji's eyes. His perpetually hunched body suddenly straightened. With a turn of his left hand, the pitch-black short iron spike hidden in his sleeve was already in his palm, silently stabbing toward the vulnerable point at Zhu Yingxiong's lower back!

The angle of this strike was incomparably treacherous, its timing perfect—fast as lightning, venomous as a viper!

If it struck, the poison would enter through his lower back. Not even an immortal could save him.

Yet he had overlooked one important person.

"Bang~" Wu Ji's body abruptly stiffened, and he spat out blood with a "wah."

Gu Zixian, who had been standing by and watching all along, had suddenly made her move, her slender jade palm striking Wu Ji squarely in the center of his back.

And almost at the same instant, Zhu Yingxiong's right index finger was already pointed at the crown of Wu Ji's head.

One-Finger Zen!

Wu Ji's pupils shrank sharply. He only had time to look up before a sharp gust reached the center of his brow!

"Pfft—"

With a soft, dull sound, a flower of blood blossomed in the middle of Wu Ji's forehead.

His eyes widened in utter disbelief. His body swayed, then he fell straight backward. The pitch-black short iron spike in his hand clattered to the floor.

Killed with a single blow!

"Old Wu!" Lei Hong roared, swinging both hammers in a full arc toward Zhu Yingxiong, who was still in midair!

Yet Zhu Yingxiong's body drifted backward as lightly as willow fluff, narrowly avoiding the rage-filled attack.

At the same time, his right foot swept out.

Fan Sheng's dagger had already been gouging toward the back of Zhu Yingxiong's knee when his vision blurred. A stabbing pain shot through his dagger-wielding right hand, and the weapon flew free.

Then his chest tightened, and he was kicked into the air, crashing heavily into the wall before sliding to the ground. Blood gushed wildly from his mouth, and he could no longer get back up.

Before Lei Hong could retract his bronze hammer, he felt a numbness at the Jianyu acupoint on his right shoulder. Half his body instantly lost all feeling, and the octagonal bronze hammer flew from his hand, smashing through a wooden table with a "bang."

He staggered back, his eyes filled with horror. What kind of finger technique was this? How could it be so domineering?

Seeing that the situation had turned bad, Cui San shook his chain and turned to flee through the door.

But he had barely taken one step when a fierce gust came from behind him. He instinctively turned his head, only to see a sole growing larger and larger before his eyes—

"Bang!"

The kick struck him squarely in the face. Cui San's nose bridge collapsed, blood spraying wildly as he flew backward, knocking over three or four tables and chairs before crumpling to the ground unconscious.

Lei Hong barely managed to steady himself. Covering his right shoulder with his left hand, he stared at the figure in moon-white monk's robes. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Zhu Yingxiong had already turned around, his cold gaze settling upon him.

"You..."

"Bang!"

Another kick.

Lei Hong's burly body flew away like a rag sack, smashing through the restaurant's wooden door and crashing onto the street, unable to move again.

The restaurant fell deathly silent.

From the moment Zhu Yingxiong rose to his feet, to Wu Ji's death, to the other three suffering severe injuries and falling to the ground—only a few breaths had passed.

Zhu Yingxiong withdrew his stance and turned around, intending to ask about the identity of the woman in black. After all, she was the one who had brought this trouble upon him.

Yet when he turned around, he discovered that the mysterious woman in black had long since vanished without a trace.