A Blow from Behind

The night was dark.

Two red lanterns swayed gently in the night wind before Spring Breeze Pavilion. The scent of rouge and powder mingled with wine, drifting out through the half-open doors.

"Take care, Chief Ge."

The madam, her face wreathed in smiles, saw Ge Ming and Zhao Sihu to the door. Behind her, several girls draped in gauze leaned against the doorway and called in sweet voices, "Master Ge, Master Sihu, do come again next time."

Ge Ming rubbed the scented handkerchief a girl had slipped into his arms, his face still flushed with lingering drink.

Zhao Sihu, on the other hand, waddled along with his stuffed, bulging belly, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, life in town is still more comfortable."

Zhao Sihu belched, then glanced back at Spring Breeze Pavilion and grinned. "Way better than those village girls in the mountain gullies. Every last one of them smells either of firewood or pigsties. Get too close, and they stink you out."

Ge Ming chuckled softly, lifting the scented handkerchief beneath his nose as he savored the fragrance of the girls from Spring Breeze Pavilion.

At that moment, Zhao Sihu asked Ge Ming, "Chief, how many taels do we have left?"

Ge Ming answered casually, "Money's just money. Spend it, then get more."

"Those mud-legged peasants are our moneybags!"

Zhao Sihu chuckled. "Hehe, true enough. Those mud-legged peasants are born low and cheap. If you don't beat them, they won't behave."

"Just kill one to scare the monkeys. No way they won't pay up."

Then suddenly, a crisp bang exploded beside Zhao Sihu's ear.

The sound was far too close.

So close, it was as though someone had smashed a watermelon right beside his ear.

The smile had not yet faded from Zhao Sihu's face when his entire body suddenly froze. Heat splashed across the side of his face, and something thick and sticky sprayed over his face and neck.

The stench of wine, the fragrance of powder, and the smell of blood tangled together in an instant.

Ge Ming did not even have time to scream. His body swayed, then he toppled stiffly to the ground like a severed wooden post.

"Chief?"

Zhao Sihu called out instinctively.

There was no response.

Only Ge Ming's corpse twitched twice before becoming completely still.

Out of the darkness, a figure emerged slowly, gripping a wooden club.

He wore a plain set of coarse cloth clothes. He was not tall or imposing, and even seemed somewhat lean in the way of a youth.

Yet as he stood there, his gaze was terrifyingly cold.

It was Lu Chen.

Most of Zhao Sihu's drunkenness vanished in an instant.

"Who are you?"

His voice was hoarse. Cold sweat sprang from his back as his right hand instinctively reached for the short blade at his waist.

Lu Chen did not answer.

He strode forward and threw a punch straight at Zhao Sihu's face.

Though Zhao Sihu had been drinking, he was still a seasoned hand from the mountain patrol. He had plenty of experience bullying mountain folk, fighting, and playing rough. Seeing Lu Chen's punch coming, fear rose in his heart, but so did a streak of savagery.

"You're courting death!"

Zhao Sihu roared. His short blade was only halfway drawn when he abruptly swept up his left arm, trying to block Lu Chen's punch.

But Lu Chen's punch was only a feint.

Halfway through, his shoulder dipped. His entire arm suddenly curled like a swimming dragon flicking its tail, slipping past Zhao Sihu's guard. His five fingers came together as he lashed out at Zhao Sihu's ear.

Azure Dragon Claw!

Smack!

A crisp crack rang out.

Zhao Sihu's ears buzzed, and half his face went numb. He staggered back two steps.

He was both shocked and furious.

"Martial arts school boxing?"

Zhao Sihu finally saw Lu Chen's stance clearly, and a trace of disbelief surfaced in his eyes.

This kid was young, yet his moves were steady beyond anything a novice could manage.

Especially between fist and palm, his arms stretched like whips, power running from his spine all the way to his fingertips. His attacks were swift and tricky, nothing like a mountain village boy blindly swinging his fists.

Lu Chen still said nothing.

His eyes were terrifyingly calm.

The fire in his chest burned hotter and hotter, but it did not make him lose his composure.

Zhao Sihu shook his head and finally came fully to his senses.

He stared at Lu Chen, vaguely recalling that face. The fear on his own face gradually twisted into a vicious grin.

"Well, well. So you're a little brat from the mountains."

"You killed Chief Ge. Do you know how much trouble you've caused?"

"Our mountain patrol won't let you off!"

Lu Chen said coldly, "The mountain patrol you mentioned only has you left now."

"And soon, you'll be dead too."

Before coming here, Lu Chen had already dealt cleanly and efficiently with the other members of the mountain patrol.

Most of them were hooligans and scoundrels who knew a few crude tricks. They could bully ordinary people, but they were no match at all for a proper martial arts school disciple like Lu Chen.

And Ge Ming, the mountain patrol's only martial artist, had just had his head smashed open by Lu Chen's club.

After all, Ge Ming had not trained an iron head. With Lu Chen's several hundred pounds of force crashing down on his head, his skull had burst open instantly.

Zhao Sihu's cheek twitched, then he laughed in rage.

"You?"

He yanked out his short blade, its edge flashing coldly in the night.

"Tonight, I'll chop you up first, then go to your village and drag out your whole family to slaughter!"

Before the words had even faded, Zhao Sihu pounced.

He was fat and burly, but not slow. He stomped down hard and slashed his short blade diagonally at Lu Chen's shoulder and neck. The strike was vicious; clearly, this was not his first time trying to kill someone.

Lu Chen's pupils narrowed slightly.

He did not take it head-on. With a shift of his feet, he sidestepped half a pace.

The blade grazed his lapel as it fell, carrying a gust of cold wind.

Zhao Sihu's slash missed, and he immediately changed moves. Twisting his wrist, he swept the short blade across Lu Chen's waist and abdomen.

But Lu Chen formed his right hand into a claw and seized Zhao Sihu's blade-wielding wrist, pressing down with the motion.

Zhao Sihu felt his wrist go numb, and more than half the force behind his blade was dispersed.

Before he could react, Lu Chen's shoulder slammed heavily into his chest.

Bang!

Zhao Sihu grunted, his fat body stumbling back three steps before his back struck the alley wall.

Dust sifted down from the wall.

"You—"

He had barely opened his mouth when Lu Chen closed in again.

A blur of fists rushed at his face.

Not one punch.

Three punches in succession.

The first struck Zhao Sihu's blade-wielding wrist, nearly knocking the short blade from his hand.

The second smashed into Zhao Sihu's ribs, hurting so badly he nearly could not draw breath.

The third went straight for his throat.

Terrified, Zhao Sihu hurriedly raised an arm to protect his neck.

But Lu Chen's fist path changed again.

His arm seemed to lengthen suddenly, slipping through a gap in Zhao Sihu's defense and striking just below his breastbone.

Zhao Sihu felt a heavy blow in his chest, as though a blunt hammer had struck him. His internal organs churned along with it.

"Blergh!"

He vomited a mouthful of sour fluid, and fear finally appeared in his eyes.

This kid is so strong! He may not be a martial artist, but he's no weaker than one!

Zhao Sihu looked fierce, but he was the sort who bullied the weak and feared the strong. At this moment, the urge to retreat rose in his heart.

Ge Ming was already dead.

There was no need for him to risk his life against this madman.

As long as he ran back into the mountains and gathered some men, tomorrow he could crush this brat along with the village behind him.

With that thought, Zhao Sihu suddenly roared and hurled his short blade at Lu Chen's face.

Lu Chen tilted his head aside.

The blade flew past his cheek, cutting a shallow line of blood across his skin before embedding itself in the wall behind him.

Zhao Sihu had already turned and run.

His fat body crashed through the bamboo baskets piled at the mouth of the alley. Scrambling and rolling, he rushed toward the street.

"Murder!"

"Murder!"

Zhao Sihu screamed at the top of his lungs.

But after only two shouts, hurried footsteps sounded behind him.

Lu Chen had caught up.

Zhao Sihu was horrified. Looking back, he saw Lu Chen lowering his body, his arms spread wide. Like a gray dragon speeding close to the ground, he closed the distance in just a few bounds.

"Get away!"

Zhao Sihu spun around and threw a punch at Lu Chen.

The punch was rushed, but his fat, burly build gave it considerable force.

Lu Chen did not dodge.

His gaze sharpened. He planted his feet firmly, his waist and back drawn like a bow as he yanked his right arm back.

In that instant, the strength trained through the Coiling Dragon Stance sank into his legs. His spine tightened, his shoulder and arm linked as one.

He seemed to stand before a mountain—his body unmoving, his feet unshifting.

The next moment, his fist shot forth like a dragon.

Boom!

Lu Chen's punch struck later yet arrived first, knocking Zhao Sihu's fist aside and smashing heavily into his throat.

Zhao Sihu's cry stopped abruptly.

His eyes bulged wide. His fat body stiffened in place, while a broken bellows-like rasp leaked from his throat.

Lu Chen did not stop.

He stepped forward, his left arm sweeping like a dragon's tail and striking Zhao Sihu's temple.

Smack!

Zhao Sihu's head snapped to one side, and his body crashed crookedly into the wall.

Before he could fall, Lu Chen's right hand had already seized his collar. His knee drove fiercely into Zhao Sihu's abdomen, then he twisted his arms and hurled him down.

Bang!

Zhao Sihu slammed heavily onto the ground, and even the bluestone paving seemed to shudder.

His short blade was no longer in his hand. His throat bones had been shattered, and his temple had taken another heavy blow. Lying on the ground now, he only had enough strength left to twitch.

Lu Chen stood before him, his chest rising and falling slightly.

His first time killing someone.

He had thought he would be afraid, that he would vomit, that his hands and feet would go weak.

But when the moment truly came, all that remained in his heart was icy coldness.

Because they deserved to die!

Zhao Sihu lay on the ground, staring fixedly at Lu Chen. His lips kept opening and closing as though he still wanted to spit out some harsh words.

But no sound came out.

Only bloody foam slowly bubbled from the corner of his mouth.