Killing Monk Tang

Deng Qing said, "Ignore that bastard. Let's hurry and join up with Senior Brother Fan."

Though he said so, Deng Qing was surveying the battlefield, searching for a chance to slip away.

He had considered killing enemies and earning merit, but he had no intention of putting it into practice himself.

At present, weapons bared and danger all around, if the opportunity was right, preserving his life naturally came first.

The three of them seized an opening and headed after Fan Sheng.

Unexpectedly, before they had gone more than a few steps, Monk Tang charged back from behind.

He alone seemed to carry the might of a hundred men. His Buddhist staff whirled wildly, sending pebbles flying like concealed weapons and forcing the soldiers to squeeze toward the center.

Deng Qing and the other two were crushed in the middle, nearly unable to move.

With a spring, Deng Qing grabbed a vine on the cliff face.

Though dangerous, it was far safer than being packed into the crowd and unable to move.

Quite a few people copied him and clambered up the cliff face as well.

Deng Qing frowned deeply. If he did this alone, he would not become a target, but with so many people following suit, were they not simply inviting Monk Tang to attack?

Sure enough, Monk Tang whirled his Buddhist staff and swept it along the cliff face, reaching them in the blink of an eye.

Thoughts flashed through Deng Qing's mind. He knew that if he leaped into the crowd, the outcome would be unpredictable; he would most likely be shoved about until he was reeling in every direction.

Gritting his teeth, he kicked off the cliff face with both feet, spun through the air, and landed a little over a zhang before Monk Tang.

That spot had already been swept clear by Monk Tang.

Monk Tang was slightly startled, then roared, "Courting death!"

Before the shout had faded, he swung his Buddhist staff down at Deng Qing's crown.

Deng Qing had observed Monk Tang for some time. He sidestepped the blow, sprang forward another step, and a cold glint flickered in his eyes.

"Die!"

Monk Tang swung his Buddhist staff again. Deng Qing shifted his footing, his gaze locked on the sliver of an opening revealed as the staff descended.

Suddenly, he slapped his waist. The Blacksteel Soft Sword sprang out soundlessly and slipped in from beneath the side of the Buddhist staff.

The sword flashed, like the kiss of death.

The savage grin had yet to fade from Monk Tang's face when a bead of blood appeared at his throat.

The next instant, the bead exploded.

Monk Tang clutched his throat, his eyes wide as he staggered back two steps, then crashed to the ground.

The entire scene erupted in uproar.

Someone cried out, "Monk Tang is dead!"

"Who killed Monk Tang?"

"Deng Qing of Celebration Hall!"

Wang Wei and Zhou Tie answered loudly.

Deng Qing had long passed the stage of feeling uncomfortable about killing. Nor did he have the awareness of being a dazzling hero; he was already sneakily and swiftly frisking Monk Tang from head to toe.

At the same time, he had gained a clear measure of the Seven Forms of Settling Solitude's combat power.

After all that searching, he found only a few silver coins, leaving him greatly disappointed.

Soon, his eyes settled on Monk Tang's Buddhist staff. He snatched it up, finding it extraordinarily heavy. This thing should fetch a good price, at least.

The moment he grasped the staff, the soldiers who had previously been forced by Monk Tang into a cramped mass had already surged after the main force.

Deng Qing hauled the Buddhist staff and gave chase at a dead sprint, ignoring the question marks written all over Wang Wei and Zhou Tie's faces.

Wang Wei and Zhou Tie hurried after him. Yet after turning past a narrow pass, they discovered that Deng Qing had vanished.

They thought Deng Qing had already charged ahead, never realizing that he had seized the chance to slip into a side path.

Killing Monk Tang had been an act of necessity.

From the very beginning, he had never believed he could not defeat Monk Tang.

After mastering the Seven Forms of Settling Solitude, his eyesight had improved tremendously. Monk Tang's wide-open, wide-closing style, fierce and peerless though it was, had been riddled with flaws in his eyes.

Once the Blacksteel Soft Sword emerged, killing him in a single move had been exactly as Deng Qing expected.

But being able to win did not mean he was willing to keep taking risks.

Following this rabble of soldiers while constantly looking after the two deadweights, Wang Wei and Zhou Tie, was far too risky in Deng Qing's view. Once he found an opportunity, naturally he slipped away.

After winding seven times and twisting eight through the mountain forest, he reached the bottom of a mountain ravine.

Before long, he found a stone cave. Lush grasses and trees covered its entrance, making it quite well hidden.

He slipped inside, quickly checked the place over, and after confirming there was no danger, set down the Buddhist staff. Then he sat cross-legged and began circulating the Violet Palace Method.

Without realizing it, more than an hour had passed. Deng Qing thought, The battle should be about over by now.

Just as he was considering whether to set out, he suddenly heard a shout: "Young master, spare my life, and I'll give you a fortuitous encounter."

Deng Qing parted a clump of thatch and secretly looked out.

He saw a young man in white leaning against the mountain wall. Half his clothing had already been soaked through with blood, and one hand was pressed tightly over his abdomen.

His face was deathly pale, his breathing heavy, and he looked utterly bedraggled.

The man opposite the young man in white was, unexpectedly, Li Cheng.

Li Cheng said coldly, "You are my fortuitous encounter."

Li Cheng slapped the bamboo tube at his waist.

The cap sprang open, and a mass of black shadow shot out.

The black shadow unfurled in the wind, revealing itself to be a bat with ghostly markings on its face.

Its wings spanned more than a foot, its membranes gray-white. A pair of tiny scarlet eyes stared fixedly at the young man in white, and an eerie yin chill surrounded it.

Li Cheng whistled. The Ghost-Faced Bat let out a piercing shriek and lunged straight at the young man in white.

The hand the young man in white had been using to press his abdomen suddenly flew up. His five fingers were covered in blood as he flung them viciously forward, scattering droplets of blood.

As though it had encountered something it loathed beyond measure, the Ghost-Faced Bat abruptly folded its wings, sharply changed direction in midair, and skimmed past the mountain wall.

Having driven back the Ghost-Faced Bat, the young man in white swayed and nearly toppled over.

With the pressure gone from his abdominal wound, blood continuously poured from between his fingers, and the last trace of color drained from his face.

Yet the Ghost-Faced Bat refused to retreat. It kept circling the young man in white, sometimes diving from the left, sometimes skimming close to the ground. Its shrill cries echoed back and forth through the narrow ravine, chilling the heart.

The young man in white stared at it without blinking. Whenever the Ghost-Faced Bat drew close, he had no choice but to dip into the blood from his wound and fling it out with a wave of his hand.

After several times in a row, a pool of blood had formed beneath his feet, and his breath grew weaker and weaker.

Li Cheng stood more than ten zhang away and said coldly, "Zhou Fei, you may be Blood Butcher's prized disciple. You killed people to cultivate your arts all your life, your crimes overflowing to the heavens. Did you ever think that today's retribution would come for you as well?"

"Retribution?"

Zhou Fei panted heavily, his eyes full of contempt. "A pampered young master like you, who cannot distinguish the four limbs from the five grains, dares speak to me of retribution?"

His voice rose, and fanaticism shone in his eyes. "One day, my Eastern Radiance Holy Church will surely sweep the realm clean and replace the current imperial court!"

Before Zhou Fei's words had finished, the Ghost-Faced Bat circling in the air suddenly folded its wings and shot at his face like a black arrow.

Zhou Fei had been prepared. He again scattered a spray of blood droplets with a wave of his hand, and the Ghost-Faced Bat shrieked as it fled away.

Li Cheng watched Zhou Fei's tottering figure, and the coldness at the corner of his mouth deepened.

Zhou Fei naturally saw through Li Cheng's intentions as well. He knew he had reached the end of the road. If this dragged on, even if the Ghost-Faced Bat failed to catch him, he would die from excessive blood loss.

"Fine!"

Zhou Fei suddenly threw back his head and let out a long howl. "Who would have thought that I, Zhou Fei, a hero all my life, would die at the hands of petty scum!"

As he spoke, he reached into his robes and took out a thumb-sized porcelain bottle. With a flick of his thumb, the stopper flew out, and a blood-red pill rolled into his palm.