Great King Fist

"Report to the officials? How are we supposed to do that? Go tonight?"

Another Liu lineage member roared right back, his face as white as paper, his lips trembling so hard he could barely form a full sentence. "Who dares go out there in this pitch-black dark?"

"What if that thief is still waiting for us on the road? What happens if we get hacked down the second we step outside?"

Someone else cried out in terror, "Then what are we supposed to do? Liu Teng is a Martial Artist! And those two disciples from the Wang Clan Martial Hall died here too—these are people from the Wang Household, we're all in deep trouble!"

"When the Wang Family investigates this, none of us will get away!"

"What else is there to do? Run, run fast!"

The lineage member who had collapsed first scrambled up using both hands and feet, tears and snot streaming down his face. "Pack our bags at dawn tomorrow and run immediately, run as far as we can. We can't stay in this village anymore!"

"The moment Liu Dagang died, his son died too, and people from the Wang Household died right here. This is a cursed village!"

"Where the hell do you think you can run to?"

Liu Ma abruptly turned around and shouted to stop everyone in their tracks.

He swallowed hard, a dull, gurgling sound rising from his throat, and swept his gaze over everyone's faces. "Us ordinary peasants, can we outrun those Martialists?"

"Which person from the Wang Clan Martial Hall isn't someone who can vault over walls and walk across roofs? If they want to hunt you down, can you outrun them?"

Dead silence filled the room, broken only by the crackle of the candle flame flickering in the draft.

Liu Ma took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and said in a low voice, "Forget about running. If you ask me, we should all just stay quietly in the village tomorrow. When the people from the Wang Family come to ask questions, we'll tell the truth: a thief broke in and killed Brother Teng and the two young masters from the Wang Family, but we didn't clear what they looked like and we don't know where they came from."

"At worst we get cursed at a bit, take a few whip lashes."

His voice grew lower and lower, dropping until only the few people in the room could hear clearly. "But if we run and get caught by them, that means we have a guilty conscience, and it's nine deaths and one life."

The Liu lineage members looked at one another, nodding in succession one after the other.

This truly was the only way to survive right now.

Ten minutes later!

Feng Chen returned home.

He pushed open the courtyard gate, keeping his footsteps extremely light as he intended to quietly sneak back to his room to change clothes and pretend nothing had happened.

Just as he walked into the courtyard, however, he saw the dim glow of an oil lamp casting a shadow on the inner room's windowpane.

He paused for a moment, then walked quickly into the main room where Lin Qing'er was sitting on a small wooden stool with an oil lamp lit, resting her chin in her hands and staring straight at the doorway.

Hearing footsteps, she shot up, rising so fiercely she almost knocked over the small stool beside her.

She wore a thin undergarment, her hair hung loose, and her bare feet stepped on the mud floor as she just stared straight at Feng Chen entering from outside the door.

Feng Chen felt somewhat surprised.

Strictly speaking, this trip out and back hadn't taken much time at all—from stepping out the door to now was half an hour at most!

When he left, Lin Qing'er had clearly been sleeping very soundly, even muttering in her sleep; he had thought she would sleep straight through until dawn.

He hadn't expected her to wake up.

Lin Qing'er walked quickly up to Feng Chen and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Her arms locked tightly around his waist, her face buried against his chest, and her voice muffled itself against his lapels, carrying an uncontainable sob. "Husband, why did you go out again? Did you really think I wouldn't know anything?"

Feng Chen fell silent for a moment, raising a hand to gently pat her trembling back as he said softly, "I saw you were sleeping deeply, so I didn't wake you."

"Hmph, Husband, if you do this again next time, I really am going to be mad at you." Lin Qing'er lifted her head to look at him, crystal-clear tears flashing in her eye sockets and spinning brightly under the oil lamp.

She bit her lower lip, trying hard not to let the tears fall, but they still spilled mercilessly down her cheeks.

She didn't wipe them away, just tilted her head up like that to look at him as she said softly, "Husband, you've worked hard."

Feng Chen lowered his gaze to look into her eyes.

He smiled, raising his thumb to wipe the tears from her face. "Alright, it's fine now. I'm going to go wash up first."

"Okay." Lin Qing'er nodded, obediently letting go of him.

Feng Chen quickly changed into a clean set of clothes, rolling the blood-spattered short tunic of his night-traveler attire into a ball.

Lin Qing'er took that bundle of clothes, turned, and walked into the kitchen, squatting in front of the stove opening to shove the garments directly inside.

There were still embers buried after dinner inside the stove, with a few dark red sparks floating among the ash.

She added a handful of dry grass, and the sparks caught fire instantly upon touching the grass. Orange-red flames licked at the bundle of clothes, the linen rapidly curling up with black charred edges as the entire garment turned into a small ball of burning fire in the glow, making her tear-stained face flicker brightly and dimly.

Feng Chen stood at the kitchen doorway, watching the little girl squatting before the stove mouth burning away the evidence with a single fire, and nodded.

Quite clever indeed; she knew how to handle these things without being taught.

Half an hour later, everything was cleaned up.

The bloodstains were washed away, the short blade polished bright and put back into the Spatial Ring, and the floors of the courtyard and rooms had been checked to ensure no trace was left behind.

Feng Chen carried Lin Qing'er back to their room, and the two of them lay down on the bed.

The oil lamp was blown out, and moonlight leaked in through a hole in the window paper, spreading a pale white layer of frost across the floor.

Lin Qing'er turned on her side to lean close to him, resting one hand against his chest with her fingertips gently clutching his lapel.

"Husband, can you properly tell me now what you went and did all this time?"

"Alright, I'll tell you."

Feng Chen briefly recounted the matter of going out to deal with Liu Teng and the others.

He left out too many bloody details, only saying that Liu Teng had brought two people from the Wang Clan Martial Hall back, and he went out tonight to dispose of them, just like he had dealt with Tiger Liu and Liu Dagang previously.

Lin Qing'er fell silent for a moment after listening.

She didn't ask how those people died, nor did she ask if he was afraid, simply pressing her face a bit closer into the crook of his shoulder and speaking softly, "Husband, you did the right thing. But next time you go out, you must tell me, okay? Don't always wait until I'm asleep to sneak away."

"I'll study martial arts diligently too, so when you fight, I can help you."

Feng Chen's palm landed on her soft crown of hair, smiling as he answered, "Alright, we'll work hard together. For now, lie down and rest for a bit, I still have some things to do."

"Okay, Husband."

Lin Qing'er nodded obediently, releasing his lapel and pulling the quilt up higher.

She knew that every time her husband finished being busy outside and came back, there were always some things he needed to sort through.

Feng Chen came to the main room and relit the oil lamp on the table.

The dim light carved out a small circle of warmth. He sat down at the table and took out his previous spoils from the Spatial Ring.

The loose silver and silver notes were placed to one side—the fifty taels of current silver felt heavy, and combined with the remaining silver notes from before, his pouch swelled up considerably once more.

Then he placed the two manuals of Wang Clan Martial Hall fist techniques onto the table.

The two manuals were identical, their covers made of dark brown cowhide paper that was much thicker than the yellow hemp paper used by ordinary bookstores, with three ink-black characters written squarely across them:

Great King Fist.

The handwriting was neat and powerful, carrying an unquestionable overbearing aura in every starting and finishing stroke.

Opening the first page, the flyleaf impressively bore six characters denoting the ultimate technique of the Wang Clan Martial Hall, followed by a line of small annotations explaining that this fist technique was one of the inheritances of the Wang Household lineage and was strictly forbidden from being passed outside to non-family disciples.

So it was an internal manual of the Wang Clan Martial Hall. Unlike those public goods he had previously bought in bookstores, this was a genuine martial art with a true lineage.

No wonder the two Wang brothers carried the same manual on their persons; they probably had to practice according to it every day within the martial hall.

Feng Chen flipped through it seriously page by page.

The Great King Fist likewise followed a fierce and domineering path, sharing a certain affinity with the Tiger Fist, but its fist momentum was far more grand and open, centering around the word "King"!

Suppressing others with sheer force, awing enemies with overpowering momentum, throwing punches like a monarch ascending the court, leaving no room for resistance.

The pole-standing stances and force-exerting methods recorded within it were a grade higher than the Tiger Fist, and when used in matching combination with the body-refining path of the Giant Strength Art, the effect should prove quite exceptional.

An incense stick's time later, the final page was turned.

Ding-dong, Great King Fist has been cataloged, please check, Host.