Today Will Be Your Death Anniversary

Feng Chen turned back to look once more at Lin Qing'er, fast asleep on the bed.

Moonlight leaked through a hole in the window paper, falling over her peaceful sleeping face and casting the faint shadows of her lashes across her cheeks.

He bent down and tucked in the half of the blanket she had kicked away, then slowly rose. In a few steps, he left the room and gently pulled the door shut behind him.

Whoosh!

His figure vaulted over the courtyard wall, landing on the path outside before speeding toward Green Mountain Village.

The Perfection-level Basic Movement Technique was pushed to its utmost in the night. His footsteps were as light as a cat's, not even disturbing the blades of grass by the roadside.

A moment later,

Feng Chen arrived outside Liu Teng's home under cover of night!

It was Liu Dagang's residence.

He raised his head and examined the scene around the house.

At this moment, white funeral streamers hung from the courtyard gate and walls, fluttering wildly in the night wind like countless ghastly white hands beckoning at the darkness.

He climbed the wall to observe. Several rows of white candles had been set out in the courtyard, their flames flickering uncertainly in the wind and casting the paper flowers on the ground alternately into light and shadow.

An eternal lamp burned in the main hall, where several shadows swayed beneath its light. From time to time came hushed voices and the sound of yawns!

Some of the Liu Household's closest relatives were keeping vigil for Liu Dagang.

From the darkness, Feng Chen carefully surveyed the area by candlelight. He saw neither Liu Teng nor the two brothers.

That meant Liu Teng and the others should be in the inner rooms, not in the mourning hall.

He cautiously circled to the side of the residence, found a shadowed corner untouched by moonlight, gripped the top of the wall with both hands, and exerted force through his arms. Soundlessly, he flipped over the wall and landed lightly on the blue stone paving inside the courtyard.

The people keeping vigil in the yard were huddled around a brazier, warming themselves and dozing off. Ash from burned paper money drifted up in the wind, spun through the air, and settled back down.

No one noticed a black shadow flash past from the darkness behind them.

Keeping close to the wall, Feng Chen swiftly crossed the courtyard, avoiding every patch of candlelight as he made his way to the inner rooms.

He stopped beneath the corridor eaves and focused his senses!

He was searching for the fluctuations of a Martial Artist's blood and qi.

An ordinary person's blood and qi was like candlelight, weak and dim; a Martial Artist's was like a furnace fire, vigorous and blazing!

Though the senses of a Body Tempering Second Layer Martial Artist could not be called precise, distinguishing Martial Artists from ordinary people was more than easy enough.

From the two innermost rooms, Feng Chen sensed three distinct fluctuations of blood and qi.

Their blood and qi were far more vigorous than those villagers keeping vigil in the courtyard. There was no doubt they were Martial Artists.

He distinguished them more carefully. One room contained two auras, close together. They should be the two senior brothers from the Wang Clan Martial Hall!

The other room had only one aura, a lone occupant.

Combined with what he had seen during the day and the intensity of the blood and qi he sensed, the person occupying a room alone was Liu Teng himself.

That room was still lit by an oil lamp. Dim yellow light shone through the window paper, and a silhouette was reflected upon it, constantly shifting its posture!

Horse stance, punch, retract, then punch again. The airflow stirred by his sleeves made the window paper tremble faintly.

Feng Chen watched from the shadows beneath the eaves for a while, his heart stirring slightly.

This brat Liu Teng was still practicing martial arts so late at night. He was rather serious, after all.

And it was precisely such a diligent and hardworking enemy who had to be hunted down. Feng Chen could never give him a chance to grow.

The killing intent in Feng Chen's heart became even more resolute.

He stepped out from the shadows, his footsteps as light as fallen leaves floating on water. In a few strides, he reached Liu Teng's door, stretched out his hand, and rapped his knuckles against the wooden panel.

"Who is it?"

A wary, low shout came from inside, followed by the sound of a fist stance being withdrawn and footsteps shifting.

Liu Teng stopped several paces behind the door, frowning at the entrance. His tone was extremely impatient. "Didn't I already say it? Don't come looking for me tonight. Whatever it is, wait until tomorrow!"

Feng Chen confirmed that the person inside was indeed Liu Teng.

He gave no answer. He merely flicked his wrist, unleashing explosive force in an instant as he slammed his palm into the door.

Crack!

The wooden door was directly shattered by the powerful force, splinters and fragments spraying throughout the room.

Blade in hand, Feng Chen used Meteor Step. With the shattered door fragments as cover, he charged straight inside.

Liu Teng's pupils abruptly contracted.

After all, he had trained at the martial hall for several years, and his reaction was swift!

The instant the door shattered, he judged several things: the intruder was no ordinary person; someone who could smash a wooden door with one palm was at least a Body Tempering Realm Martial Artist;

The intruder made no effort to conceal his killing intent. This was neither a negotiation nor a threat. He had come directly to kill him.

Almost instinctively, Liu Teng rolled aside, snatched up the refined iron saber beside his bed, and drew it from its sheath with a swish. He held it horizontally before him in a defensive stance.

At the same time, he activated all the blood and qi in his body. The aura of Body Tempering, First Heaven erupted without reservation, veins bulging across his arms as the blade gleamed coldly beneath the oil lamp.

He looked at the black-clad, masked man rushing in and sneered. "So that's how it is. You came to kill me. You're the one who killed my father, aren't you? Watch me chop you to death!"

Before his words had faded, he struck first. His long saber cleaved straight down at Feng Chen's face, its momentum fierce and direct—the orthodox Basic Blade Technique taught by the Wang Clan Martial Hall.

Beneath his mask, Feng Chen's expression was calm as still water.

He had already sensed Liu Teng's strength during the day. Now that they faced each other in combat, it only confirmed his judgment. Liu Teng was an ordinary Body Tempering, First Heaven Martial Artist, and both his cultivation art and blade technique were basic goods.

To ordinary people, this was an insurmountable mountain. The pressure of a Martial Artist's blood and qi alone was enough to make them tremble in fear.

But Feng Chen was no ordinary person.

He was a Body Tempering Second Layer Martial Artist, one who possessed the Giant Strength Art and Perfection-level Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Saber.

An opponent like this was far too easy before him.

He made no flashy extra movements. He simply turned his wrist and raised the saber in his hand to meet the attack.

The first move of the Perfection-level Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Saber, Tiger Bursts from the Forest, swept upward diagonally from the side, its angle tricky and its force savage.

With one slash, he struck Liu Teng's descending blade. A clear clang rang out, followed by a piercing crack amid the clash of refined iron. The standard refined iron saber from the Wang Clan Martial Hall in Liu Teng's hand was chopped apart.

It was not knocked away, nor was it deflected. It was cut into two from the middle.

Half the blade spun through the air and embedded itself in the wall. Liu Teng still clutched the hilt and broken remnant, but the web between his thumb and forefinger had split open, blood running down his wrist.

Feng Chen's blade momentum did not stop. After shattering Liu Teng's weapon with an upward slash, he pressed downward with the flow of the strike, chopping directly toward Liu Teng's throat.

There was no needless variation in this strike. It was clean, decisive, and swift as lightning.

Liu Teng's pupils dilated to their limit.

He had never imagined that the intruder would be this strong. One slash had shattered a refined iron saber, leaving him no room even to fight back.

He wanted to dodge. His heel had already slid half a step backward, but his speed was far too slow in Feng Chen's eyes.

He could only watch as that snow-bright blade drew closer and closer, his thoughts and physical reactions completely disconnected.

With a crack, the blade slashed into Liu Teng's neck.

The edge precisely sliced diagonally into the side of his neck, tearing through skin, muscle, and blood vessels.

A deep gash that exposed bone was torn open. Bright red blood erupted from the wound like a fountain, splashing over the walls, table and chairs, and Feng Chen's lapels.

Liu Teng staggered back two steps in struggle, his back crashing against the bedframe. His whole body slid down along it and collapsed to the floor, his legs kicking futilely twice and knocking over a small stool beside him.

He lay on his side, clutching his neck. His fingers could not stop the enormous wound, and blood continued to gush through their gaps, quickly pooling into a thick, spreading puddle on the floor.

He could no longer live. His lips moved soundlessly, while his face turned deathly pale at a rate visible to the naked eye.

He tilted his head back and used the last of his strength to stare at the black-clad man before him, whose body was spattered with his blood. In a hoarse, faint, broken voice, he asked, "You... who are you? When did our Liu Household... ever offend... someone like you?"

He could not understand it at all. Even if his village-chief father had committed every evil imaginable, at most he had bullied poor hunters in the village, pocketed some petty money, and sold a few girls. He should never have provoked such a ruthless man who could kill him with one slash.

A Martial Artist like this was someone even his father, Liu Dagang, would not have been foolish enough to provoke.

Feng Chen stood before him, looking down at his gradually dimming eyes, and replied coldly, "There is no need for you to know who I am."

Even at this point, he still had no intention of telling Liu Teng who he was.

He wanted Liu Teng to die with eyes unclosed, taking an eternal, unsolvable mystery with him into the underworld.

Back when Liu Teng and Tiger Liu had thrown stones at him at the village entrance, stepped on his face, shoved him to the ground, and laughed uproariously, they would never have imagined this day would come.

Upon hearing that, Liu Teng wanted to say something more. His lips moved and squeezed out several shapeless syllables, but the bloody froth welling up his throat choked everything back.

His head suddenly lolled to one side, and he stopped moving.

Only those eyes remained wide open, still holding the intense shock and confusion from before his death as they stared straight in Feng Chen's direction.

Tap, tap. Two hurried sets of footsteps sounded behind him, rapid and chaotic against the wooden floor.

"Junior Brother Liu, what's wrong? What happened?"

Wang Tianfan was the first to rush into the room. He wore only a white undershirt and gripped a willow-leaf saber. His gaze swept around the room, and his entire body froze.

Liu Teng lay in a pool of blood, a huge wound across his neck still streaming blood, his eyes glaring unclosed at the ceiling.

Beside him stood a black-clad, masked man covered in blood spatters, holding a refined iron saber still dripping with blood.

Wang Tianping rushed in right after him, equally disheveled, his hair loose and the scent of alcohol not yet gone.

The moment he saw the scene in the room, then the masked man in black, he understood at once.

Liu Teng had already been killed. This man in black before them was undoubtedly the thief who had killed Liu Teng's father.

Wang Tianping snorted out the alcohol fumes from his mouth, drew his long saber, pointed its tip at Feng Chen, and said viciously, "You're that thief? You dare kill someone from our Wang Clan Martial Hall? You're truly tired of living!"

Wang Tianfan also held his saber horizontally before him and said coldly, "That's right. Kneel and beg for mercy at once. Perhaps we brothers might consider sparing your life. Otherwise, this day next year will be your death anniversary."