The man trailing Yi Yang saw his target disappear around a corner and abruptly quickened his pace.
He knew full well that if he lost his target, he would have no way to explain himself to the deputy hall master.
His feet skimmed swiftly over the seams between the bluestone paving slabs as he rounded the right-angle turn.
The pursuer stopped dead.
A hand reached out from the side, its five fingers clamping around his throat.
The force coming from that hand made him feel as though a mutant beast had seized him by the neck.
The palm pressed against his Adam's apple, fingertips digging into the muscles along his neck. Powerful Inner Energy poured through the grip, lifting him bodily off the ground.
His back struck the wall. The back of his head crushed the moss between the bricks, sending a cold, damp sensation across his scalp.
The man following Yi Yang was lean and just over thirty, with unremarkable features. He wore an inconspicuous gray martial outfit, with a short blade tucked at his waist.
That sort of appearance was common on the streets of White Fish City and would not attract the slightest attention.
But now his face had flushed crimson. His dangling feet kicked wildly, his toes scraping the wall and leaving several white streaks.
Yi Yang stood before him, barely exerting his arm.
With his left hand, he calmly caught the wrist reaching for the short blade. His fingers wedged into the gaps around the wrist bones, and he gave a gentle twist.
Crack.
The dull crack of dislocating, shattering wrist bones echoed twice through the alley. Then searing pain made the short blade slip from the man's hand. It hit the ground with two clinks and rolled into a puddle at the foot of