Your Words, So Many

As Jiang Jingnian's words fell.

From the shadows in the corner.

A bald dwarf barely four feet tall slowly walked out.

Though short, he was immensely fat and bloated. Each step he took on the bluestone pavement produced a grating "creak."

"...You?"

Jiang Jingnian lowered his head, about to say something, but when he saw the other man's face clearly, his pupils contracted slightly and he let out a soft gasp.

Transforming Splendor Ultimate Bronze Scripture.

It had greatly enhanced his night vision as well. Even in the dimly lit darkness, he could clearly make out the folds of flesh on the man's face.

This man.

Jiang Jingnian remembered him.

And remembered him deeply.

The original owner of this body had had his heart meridians shattered by the shockwaves in the Stockade's inner district after running into several martial arts experts locked in battle.

This bald dwarf had been one of them.

But at the time, the man had merely stood at the edge, holding the line. He had not been one of the experts radiating force energy.

"Kid, you recognize me?"

Zhou Mo seemed to have caught the emotion in Jiang Jingnian's voice. He chuckled hoarsely, the rolls of flesh on his face quivering nonstop.

He felt that he truly deserved to be called an old-timer.

Even when he only occasionally ventured out, his legend still lingered in the martial world. Even a half-grown boy fresh to the trade had heard of his glorious deeds.

Naturally.

He was Blood Shadow Zhou Mo!

A man's name was like a tree's shadow.

To remain at large for over a decade despite being wanted by the foreign Patrol Bureau was not something just any Black Warrior could accomplish.

Come on.

Let me see the shock on your face, and...

Fear.

"You're from the Stockade."

Jiang Jingnian nodded with a serious expression. Rather than attack at once, he began fishing for information. "Big brother, you're a Black Warrior, right? Which line of work do you run in the Stockade?"

Following him all the way in the dead of night.

The visitor clearly meant him no good.

Surely he had not come to invite him for a meal, tea, and a chat?

Though Jiang Jingnian looked slightly bewildered on the surface, the muscles beneath his clothes had long since tensed. A faint bronze luster spread from his back and covered his entire body.

"..."

Zhou Mo had been eagerly waiting to see terror on the youth's face, waiting for him to deliberately make a huge commotion to alert the surroundings before turning and fleeing.

Yet the other party merely stood there like an idiot.

He was even chatting as though they were exchanging pleasantries.

More importantly, the boy apparently had no idea who he really was. He had only barely guessed that Zhou Mo was a Black Warrior from the Stockade.

At his age.

Having such sharp eyes and deductive ability was already quite impressive.

But young people, after all, were still too young.

"Ah..."

Zhou Mo let out a heavy sigh, then waved his plump, lumpy arm. "Cripple the kid first!"

As his words fell.

Two men in sunglasses, utterly devoid of any presence, abruptly emerged from behind Jiang Jingnian.

They wore black robes, as though fused with the night itself. Extending stiff arms, they pressed directly onto Jiang Jingnian's shoulders, and a dull crack sounded from the points of contact.

"Don't struggle. I know you practice the Copper-Mirror Iron Garment Technique."

Zhou Mo laughed, apparently not worried in the slightest that Jiang Jingnian would make a commotion. "But my two disciples practice the Corpse Garment Technique. Their bodies are no less hardened than yours. And as a variant of the Iron Garment Technique, the Copper-Mirror Iron Garment Technique has its weak points too."

"At the Blood Refining Stage, the Copper-Mirror Iron Garment Technique gives you remarkably tough skin and flesh. And with Mirror Reflection Insight, you can counter every move with another, making you nearly invincible against most Martial Masters of the same level."

"Unfortunately, you ran into someone in the same trade. Two and a half inches from the inside of your shoulder toward your neck lies your vital acupoint. If it takes a heavy blow, the blood and qi flowing throughout your body will nearly stagnate, breaking your Iron Body Skill."

Iron Body Skills were not invincible. Otherwise, everyone would have trained them long ago.

Their advantages were obvious, but so were their flaws.

First, they were harder to begin and advance than other martial arts techniques. Second, they possessed weak points.

Every Iron Body Skill practitioner had different weak points. Under normal circumstances, an enemy would not quickly identify them; it would take repeated probing at great cost.

However, if one encountered an old master who also trained an Iron Body Skill, those weak points could easily be seen through at a glance—much less Zhou Mo, who knew Iron Body Skills like the back of his hand.

He had not even needed to make a move. Simply by following Jiang Jingnian and observing the rise and fall of the aura in his body, he had determined the approximate location of his weak point.

"..."

Jiang Jingnian stood motionless, as though the two sunglassed men had truly struck his weak point.

"Don't even think of running. Twelve minutes ago, a squad of foreign patrol officers passed through here. They still need another five minutes and thirty-two seconds before they circle back."

"Forget those five minutes. The moment you take even two steps back, my two disciples' ironstone arms will pierce straight through your chest and abdomen."

As a professional assassin, Zhou Mo had carried out countless such jobs. Over all these years, he had never failed once.

Why was that?

Because he only accepted jobs below the Marrow Tempering Stage.

If a target was too strong or had too great a background, he would refuse without exception.

And before acting, he would repeatedly stake out the target's surroundings, calculate every possible route they might take, and eliminate every other potential risk.

Then came the thunderbolt strike.

This was called a lion hunting a rabbit with all its strength.

With careful planning against an unprepared foe, one or two Blood Tempering Stage or Bone Tempering Stage martial artists could be dealt with in a single encounter. What could they use to run?

For Jiang Jingnian's job, Zhou Mo had staked out the area for nearly five full days before finally finding an opportunity tonight.

"You talk so much."

Jiang Jingnian frowned slightly. "I only asked which line of work you ran in, and you started babbling on and on. What are you even talking about?"

This Black Warrior seemed to be a chatterbox. Or perhaps he was a social butterfly with an excessive desire to talk.

Yet from beginning to end, he had not directly answered Jiang Jingnian's question.

Trying to get even a scrap of useful information was this difficult.

Forget it.

"...What!?"

The quivering flesh on Zhou Mo's face froze slightly. He said to the two black-robed men in sunglasses, "Kill this kid."

Thud—

The two black-robed men, who already possessed little of the aura of the living, toppled directly backward as Zhou Mo's words fell, hitting the ground with dull, heavy thuds.

"You brat, something's wrong—"

Only then did Zhou Mo realize something was amiss.

His eyes instantly turned blood-red, and the bloated fat covering his body suddenly compacted inward...

Psychic Whip (Dream).

An invisible force of the mind struck violently into the depths of Zhou Mo's consciousness like a thousand-pound sledgehammer.

In only an instant, his bloated body, still rapidly transforming, became like a deflated ball and immediately began to wilt.

His entire person.

Fell into a stunned daze, his head buzzing.

At that moment, Jiang Jingnian's whole body gleamed bronze as he charged forward like a man of copper. He grabbed Zhou Mo's bald head and viciously slammed it face-first into the ground.

Bang bang bang—

Bang bang bang—

Within a few breaths, the youth's bronze fists swung so quickly they nearly became afterimages.

For Martial Masters of Iron Body Skills, their fists were their finest weapons.

The stone slabs shattered. Chaotic chips of rock mixed with fragments of skull and remnants of internal organs, spraying in every direction.

As for Zhou Mo's upper body, it was pounded straight into the ground. Thick grease overflowed from the pit to the sides, staining the hem of the youth's white clothes a pale yellow.

The bloated legs left outside the pit swayed back and forth.

The more Jiang Jingnian pounded.

The brighter his bronze-glinting eyes became.