Principle

"Heh!"

Seeing Yang Ge grab him, seemingly intent on wrestling with him like some shameless street thug, the gray-clad man's smile grew more savage, his gaze brimming with unspeakable mockery.

Yang Ge was smiling too.

Smiling, he raised his right hand, slowly clenched it into a fist, waved it at the gray-clad man, and punched him in the lower abdomen.

The gray-clad man suppressed the urge to burst out laughing. He swept his left palm down and caught Yang Ge's fist with effortless ease.

But...

Thump.

Yang Ge's fist, along with the gray-clad man's palm, slammed into the man's lower abdomen.

The terrifying brute force, weighing over a thousand pounds, made the gray-clad man's eyes bulge. He felt as though his intestines had twisted into a knot. His entire body went limp at once, unable to muster any strength.

Compared to martial energy, which could be hard or soft and strike near or far,

pure brute force seemed decidedly low-class.

And that was indeed the case.

Martial energy had a high threshold, and an even higher ceiling. Inner force could become inner qi, inner qi could become true qi, and true qi could become true essence... what limited martial energy was never its upper limit, but a martial artist's lifespan.

Pure brute force, however, had a low threshold and an even lower ceiling. The human body had limits, after all. Strength could not grow endlessly. Even those masters of external martial arts whose names shook the martial world would not dare claim they could wield weapons weighing hundreds of pounds in sustained combat.

But if someone truly possessed the brute strength and physique to strike barehanded with several thousand pounds of force,

then even if he knew no martial arts at all, he would still be a terrifying beast in human form!

Like Yang Ge, who could swing a bluestone slab weighing over two hundred pounds to tamp down earth.

Thus, the gray-clad man believed that once Yang Ge exhausted his inner qi, the fight would belong to him.

In reality, however, exhausting his inner qi was where Yang Ge's advantage truly began...

"Weren't you all high and mighty?"

Gripping the gray-clad man's collar with one hand, Yang Ge lifted him overhead like a baby chick. He shook him and chuckled. "Weren't you going to beat me in ten moves?"

Beside himself with shock and fury, the gray-clad man mustered his remaining strength and kicked at Yang Ge's temple.

Without so much as blinking, Yang Ge raised his other hand and casually brushed the kick aside.

Crack.

A crisp sound of breaking bone rang out. The gray-clad man strained to keep his eyes wide, but could not keep agony from twisting his face.

"Enough!"

Just then, a hoarse yet icy voice came from behind him.

Yang Ge frowned, turned sideways with the gray-clad man in his grasp, and slammed him into the ground.

Splat!

The gray-clad man's body arched on the spot, and he threw his head back, vomiting a great mouthful of blood.

Then his whole body went completely limp...

Yang Ge raised his head and looked at the curly-bearded man standing at the inn's entrance, his burly frame like a lion's. After picking his ear with his little finger, he tilted it toward him. "Huh?"

The burly, curly-bearded man glanced at the gray-clad man lying motionless like a puddle of sludge at Yang Ge's feet. His tone grew even colder. "Had enough fun?"

Yang Ge nodded. "I've had enough. I just don't know whether you have."

The curly-bearded man said, "I'd like some fun myself. I'm just afraid your little handful of men won't last long enough."

Yang Ge clapped his hands. "I don't give a fuck. When you live this life, sooner or later you have to pay your debts. Who gets to have everything their way forever?"

The curly-bearded man narrowed his eyes and chuckled. "Are you threatening me?"

Yang Ge said, "Not at all. I know that, coming here like this, you two brothers probably never intended to go back alive. But just because you aren't afraid to die doesn't mean you won't, does it?"

Right on cue, a large force of bailiffs and soldiers arrived in response to their orders. Fang Ke waved his hand, and the dense crowd surged forward like a tide, once again sealing off the inn's entrance so tightly that not even water could pass.

Without so much as blinking, the curly-bearded man turned and surveyed them. He nodded. "You have a point."

Yang Ge likewise remained unmoved. "I set the terms, and you accepted. As for what happens now, you can set the terms. Whether I can handle them or not, I'll take you up on them!"

Facing the countless powerful bows and crossbows aimed at him, the curly-bearded man slowly descended the steps. "Then why don't you exchange a couple of moves with me too?"

Yang Ge forcibly pushed aside Fang Ke, who stood in his way, and stepped out through the crowd. "Fine!"

The curly-bearded man stared at Yang Ge in silence. After a long while, he suddenly sighed softly. "So alike!"

Puzzled, Yang Ge was about to speak when something blurred before his eyes. Acting entirely on instinct, he threw a punch.

But that punch struck empty air.

The next second, he felt the world spin...

Thump.

Yang Ge crashed heavily to the ground, faceup.

Just as he had slammed the gray-clad man into the ground earlier.

He felt no pain, only a crushing tightness in his chest, as though several thousand pounds were pressing down on him, leaving him unable to breathe.

He struggled to breathe, but only felt something welling endlessly out of his throat, hot and salty, with a taste of rust.

All he could do was lift his head. He saw the curly-bearded man's large, dark, hard face looking down at him without expression.

Behind him, Fang Ke blanched. He drew his saber and pressed it against the gray-clad man's neck, roaring with a fierce show that masked his fear, "Let our Banner Commander go..."

Yet the curly-bearded man seemed not to see the gleaming blade. He leisurely clasped his hands, a faint hint of a smile at his lips, and asked softly, "Was it worth it?"

Gasping, Yang Ge slowly nodded.

The smile slowly vanished from the curly-bearded man's lips. "Does principle really matter more than life and death?"

By now, Yang Ge had registered what had happened. Every limb and bone in his body was sending him signals of pain.

But hearing the curly-bearded man's question, he only wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so very, very much.

So he struggled to curve his eyes into a smile and slowly nodded.

Watching him nod, the curly-bearded man let out a long breath.

It sounded a little like a sigh...

He reached into the front of his robe and slowly pulled out several thread-bound books. After leafing through them, he bent down and placed one on Yang Ge's chest. "Next time you see him, pass along a message for me. Tell him I understand now. Tell him I'll be waiting for him at home. Tell him to take good care of himself and come home alive..."

Yang Ge knew whom he meant. After a moment's thought, he nodded again.

"Thank you!"

The curly-bearded man gently patted Yang Ge's shoulder, rose, and walked toward the gray-clad man, one step at a time.

Frightened by his approach, Fang Ke retreated a step. Catching himself, he immediately stiffened his neck and roared, "Stop! Take one more step and I'll kill him!"

But the curly-bearded man still did not so much as glance at him.

"Let them go!"

Yang Ge finally spat out the blood in his mouth and struggled to force the words from his throat.

Fang Ke looked at Yang Ge, then at the expressionless curly-bearded man. In the end, he still did not dare actually cut off the gray-clad man's head.

He backed away several steps. Only when the curly-bearded man bent down to gather up the gray-clad man did he jog over with his men and help Yang Ge up. "Banner Commander, how are you?"

Yang Ge wanted to laugh again.

The fellow's hands were shaking as though he had Parkinson's...