The north wind whipped up furious snow.
The boy's body, hunched over as he gasped for breath, slowly began to straighten. Forcing himself on, he raised his back inch by inch, his hands and feet trembling. He drew a deep breath and turned to look. Bai Long lay on the ground, already dead.
That punch of his had looked light, but its force had been concentrated on a single point, shattering his opponent's throat.
Still, just to be safe, Lian Youming wiped the blood from his face and, under everyone's complicated, stunned gazes, slowly walked up to Bai Long. Looking at that rapidly paling face, its eyes still open in death, he brought his foot down without a trace of expression.
He stamped down hard.
Blood splashed.
Only when Bai Long was utterly beyond any possibility of survival did Wu Jiu exclaim in admiration, "Well done, lad!"
"Bravo!"
Liu Danaodai roared too, shouting with all his heart.
From his initial timidity and shrinking fear, to heart-pounding alarm, then burning anger as he beat the gong in support, and now this surge of hot blood, the humble village doctor had unknowingly become part of this martial world.
Xu Tian suddenly flicked his right hand, only then realizing that the cigarette butt between his fingers had burned down.
He too let out a long breath.
Gong Wuer had watched quietly from beginning to end, her expression solemn, her gaze growing more intent.
"A fine idea."
Even the Daoist Nun beside Gong Wuer was unstinting in her praise. "He risked his life to make his opponent resort to underhanded means, then used himself as bait, feigning weakness to lure his enemy in. That was how he turned defeat into victory."
Wu Jiu could hardly contain himself as he watched. "Hahaha, splendid! Absolutely splendid!"