Destroying the Gang

The headquarters' courtyard wall stood over a zhang high, its top pressed with black tiles. Zhou Yan did not use the main gate. He climbed over the wall, slipped inside, and hid his bundle behind a pile of firewood in the front yard.

The courtyard was deathly quiet. Two gatekeepers leaned against the main gate with their sabers in their arms, dozing off. Zhou Yan kept close to the wall, alerting no one as he made his way to the rear courtyard.

The rear courtyard's meeting hall was still lit.

The door stood open a crack, warm yellow light spilling from within.

He pushed the door open and walked in.

Zhao Xiong sat in the grand chair at the head of the room. Several sheets of paper lay spread across the square table before him, the topmost one bearing Zhou Yan's portrait.

Zhao Xiong looked up, his gaze falling on the figure at the door. He looked as though he had seen a ghost. Then his eyes shifted back to the portrait before returning to the man.

"Zhou Yan!" He shot to his feet.

"Gang Leader Zhao, no need to wait any longer," Zhou Yan said. "Qin Kun, Sun Yanping, and the twenty-odd men you sent are all dead in the wilderness outside the city."

Zhao Xiong's face darkened bit by bit, veins bulging one after another at his temples. "You killed them all?"

Disbelief filled his voice.

He had sent two Meridian-Opening Realm experts and more than twenty Qi Gathering Perfection fighters, yet they had failed to take down this brat who had only just entered the Meridian-Opening Realm.

"You sent them to kill me," Zhou Yan said. "I thought you would come in person. I did not expect you to send so few people."

"Good, good!" Zhao Xiong stepped out from behind the table, every footfall heavy. "So you were the one who stole my Mountain-Crushing Fist manual."

"I investigated you. You have practiced martial arts for no more than three years, yet you reached the Meridian-Opening Realm so quickly. Calling you a genius would not be an exaggeration." His voice sank. "But I am curious. You only have inferior innate talent—how did you advance so quickly? You must have some other treasure on you."

Zhou Yan smiled and clapped in praise. "You guessed right. I do. What, do you want it?"

"Once I kill you, everything you have will be mine." Greed flashed through Zhao Xiong's eyes.

"Then tonight is the perfect time to try." Zhou Yan looked at him without the slightest intention of retreating. "As for that fist manual of yours, I mastered it long ago."

Zhao Xiong laughed in extreme anger. "Mastered it? I have practiced fist arts for thirty years and would not dare claim mastery. You, a junior who stole the art, dare spout such nonsense!"

He stepped forward with his left foot and drove his right fist from his waist.

Mountain-Crushing Fist, Stele-Splitting Form.

The force of a thirty-year fist arrived before the blow itself. With a sharp whoosh, every candle flame in the meeting hall bent to one side.

Zhou Yan met it with his left fist—Mountain-Suppressing Fist!

The two fists collided with a boom, like a heavy hammer striking a leather war drum.

Both men retreated half a step, and the paper windows of the meeting hall tore apart from the impact.

Zhao Xiong's arm went numb, and his brow furrowed.

This brat, merely at the Early Meridian-Opening Stage, had taken a Stele-Splitting Form head-on without even a tremor passing through his fist.

"Mountain-Suppressing Fist?" Zhao Xiong shook his wrist. "The gatekeeping fist art of Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall, and you have actually cultivated it to this level!"

Then the second punch followed.

Stone-Rending!

The punch was short and sharp, hard yet brittle in its force, aimed specifically at the ribs and throat.

Zhao Xiong's thirty years of skill lay in these two fists. Punch after punch flowed together, each faster than the last, fist shadows blanketing Zhou Yan's upper body.

Zhou Yan sank into the Mountain-Settling Stance, rooting himself into the ground.

Their fists collided again and again—bang, bang, bang, bang! The two fought from the center of the hall to the wall, tables and chairs overturned by the force of their blows, teacups smashing on the ground as porcelain shards flew everywhere.

Zhao Xiong attacked faster and faster, while Zhou Yan countered every move.

His mastery of the Mountain-Crushing Fist had already reached the Limit-Breaking level. Before Zhao Xiong's force even arrived, Zhou Yan already knew where each punch would land.

Zhao Xiong noticed it as well. It was as if someone had seen through his entire fist style. Every punch either struck empty air or was deflected in advance by the brat.

He had practiced fist arts for decades, yet this was the first time he had encountered such an opponent. Suddenly, he changed his move. His elbow flicked outward, feinting toward Zhou Yan's face, while the true killing blow hid below—a Stele-Splitting Form aimed straight at the heart. This blend of feint and reality was the signature skill he had accumulated over thirty years. He had defeated instructors from several martial halls in the county with this very move.

Zhou Yan did not even blink. His left arm dropped to deflect Zhao Xiong's punch, and he pressed forward half a step with the motion, his right fist turning out from his waist.

Zhao Xiong's pupils contracted as he hurriedly retreated.

Too late.

Zhou Yan's fist grazed past his chest. The force penetrated through his clothes, and Zhao Xiong let out a muffled groan, staggering back three steps before he regained his footing.

"You... you can actually see through my fist art?"

Zhou Yan withdrew his fist and stood still. "I told you, your Mountain-Crushing Fist has not been mastered."

Zhao Xiong's expression changed. He had practiced fist arts for decades and had never imagined that one day someone would point at his nose and say his art was unmastered.

"Mountain-Crushing!"

Zhao Xiong roared and unleashed the heaviest punch among the three forms. All the strength in his body concentrated at one point, the fist wind lifting Zhou Yan's robe hem.

All the inner qi of the Mid Meridian Opening stage was pressed into this punch. It was his ultimate trump card. In all these decades, no one had dared receive it head-on.

Zhou Yan frowned. He knew clearly that Zhao Xiong, at Mid Meridian Opening, possessed deeper inner qi than him. If the fight dragged on, he would be the one at a disadvantage.

To win, he had to end it quickly!

He stomped his left foot down and drove his right fist straight out from his waist.

It was the same Mountain-Crushing Fist, except Zhou Yan had merged all three forms into one. It was even heavier than Zhao Xiong's.

In terms of power, the Limit-Breaking Mountain-Crushing Fist was several times stronger than before.

Fist met fist in a direct clash.

With a boom, the meeting hall's door panels were blasted open by the shockwave and slammed into the doorframe with a crash.

Zhao Xiong was sent flying backward. His feet plowed two white tracks through the bluestone floor as he skidded all the way to the wall. His back struck it, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

He lowered his head to look at his right fist. The bones had been dislocated, and his entire arm hung limp, unable to exert even a trace of strength.

"Mountain-Crushing Fist..." Zhao Xiong raised his head, blood running down from the corner of his mouth, his voice trembling. "How long have you practiced it?"

"Three years."

"Three years?" Zhao Xiong's eyes widened. "Impossible! It took me thirty years to reach Perfection! You only took three years!"

"Could it be the legendary Martial Extremity Realm?" Zhao Xiong muttered to himself.

A hoarse, rasping sound came from his throat, and he seemed to go mad.

He suddenly lunged up, driving out his left fist. The inner qi of the Mid Meridian Opening stage surged out desperately as he poured every last bit of strength into this punch.

"Even if I have to risk this old life today, I will keep you here!"

Zhou Yan met him head-on, launching the same Mountain-Crushing Fist with all his strength.

"You cannot keep me."

Their fists collided once more.

Zhao Xiong's left arm bent backward at the elbow, white bone piercing through flesh. He flew off at an angle, overturned the table, and crashed onto the ground. Zhou Yan walked over to him. Zhao Xiong tried to crawl up, but both his arms were ruined. He struggled twice and failed to rise.

Zhou Yan stepped on his chest. His ribs caved in, blood foam spilling from Zhao Xiong's throat. Only his exhalations remained.

Zhou Yan pressed down with his foot. Zhao Xiong's body jerked violently, his eyes still wide open before they slowly went still.

Zhou Yan withdrew his foot, shook the blood from his hand, returned to the table, rolled up the papers spread across it, tucked them into his robes, and walked out of the meeting hall.

With Zhao Xiong dead, all that remained was cleanup.

The sounds of battle had alerted several gang members in the rear courtyard. Some rushed out of the side rooms with sabers in hand, not even fully dressed.

Zhou Yan met them head-on, killing every one he saw. In the end, he blocked the doorway and slaughtered every person who came.

The last one knelt in the middle of the front yard, trembling like a leaf.

"Is there anyone else in the headquarters?"

"No... no... only this lowly one remains..." The man kowtowed frantically. "Hero, spare my life. I did not see anything..."

"Good." Zhou Yan struck him across the throat with a palm, and the man toppled to the ground.

The headquarters fell completely silent.

Zhou Yan paused outside every room and listened to the sounds within, making sure no one remained.

Then he entered the gang members' quarters, found a clean set of black clothes, and changed into them. He balled up his bloodstained clothes and the papers, then stuffed them into the kitchen stove.

Zhao Xiong's bedroom lay on the eastern side of the rear courtyard.

Zhou Yan searched it and found a wooden box beneath the bed. Inside were several banknotes, two bottles of medicine for wounds, and some loose silver.

He did not count the banknotes carefully, but estimated there were more than four hundred taels. He tucked them into his robes, uncorked the medicine, and sniffed it. It was high-grade wound medicine.

Afterward, he retrieved his bundle from behind the firewood pile in the front yard and climbed over the headquarters wall.

Zhou Yan followed the official road north. After walking several li, he turned back for a glance.

Qingyun County's walls lay dark beneath the night sky, and the battlements were silent.

Once dawn came, news that the Azure Cloud Gang had been wiped out would spread throughout the county town.