Chapter 41: Chapter 41
“Fall back!”
Wu Ming saw the carnage and forgot his own wound entirely.
He roared and launched himself at Li Suifeng, twin fists blazing.
“Nobody’s falling back. Tonight, you all die.”
Li Suifeng’s face was blank — no joy, no sorrow. Frigid Ice True Qi erupted through his body. He answered with a backhand Great Tombstone-Crushing Palm.
CRACK!
Fist met palm. Bone snapped.
In an instant, frost crystallized across Wu Ming’s brow.
PFFT!
A mouthful of blood flecked with ice shards sprayed from Wu Ming’s lips. His entire body was launched backward, his right fist bent at a sickening angle. He slammed into the ground and went still.
“Senior Brother… Senior Brother is dead!”
One strike.
A single strike.
The Canal Gang’s newest Elder had just slapped the Divine Fist Gate’s chief disciple to death.
“RUN!”
Someone screamed, and the remaining Divine Fist Gate fighters stampeded toward the branch compound — the only place their Gate Master could protect them.
“Boss Li is a beast!”
“Cut them off!”
“Kill them all!”
Seeing the enemy rout, Canal Gang disciples surged forward with blades drawn, faces twisted with cold fury.
Yuan Hai stepped out as well, helping to intercept the fleeing fighters.
“He… he…”
Only Lei Yun stood frozen in place.
His body trembled. There was no joy in him — only dread.
He’d crossed Li Suifeng before. He’d been kicked across the dock for it. But now… how had Li Suifeng become this strong?
Elder Qin had once fought Wu Ming and come out on the losing end.
And now Wu Ming had been killed by a single palm strike.
WHAM!
Li Suifeng strode into the compound, cutting through Divine Fist Gate stragglers like a blade through grass. One palm per man — every one of them was swatted away like a rag doll.
Just as he crossed the compound threshold—
CRASH!
A body came hurtling out from inside, landing at his feet.
It was Helmsman Liu Zhenhe.
“Loose!”
Yuan Hai reacted instantly.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A volley of crossbow bolts and arrows streaked toward Jin Buhuan and Ba Hu.
SWISH!
A flash of blade-light. A crescent of blade qi sheared through the air, deflecting every arrow.
Only the three heavy crossbow bolts punched through the qi screen and continued toward the two fighters.
In that sliver of time, Li Suifeng closed the gap in a single step and landed beside Liu Zhenhe.
The Helmsman was in terrible shape. His iron staff was gone — lost somewhere in the fight. His right thumb had been severed. His clothes were more red than their original color.
“You… you’re here.”
Seeing Li Suifeng, desperate hope flickered in Liu Zhenhe’s eyes.
“Quick… hold them off!”
Li Suifeng knelt beside Liu Zhenhe. One hand settled on the Helmsman’s right wrist.
“You—”
A devastating pulse of true qi erupted into Liu Zhenhe’s body, shattering his heart meridian.
Li Suifeng’s face crumpled into grief. He rose to his feet and bellowed:
“The Helmsman is dead!”
“Don’t let these murderers escape! SHOOT!”
What?
Every person present reeled.
The Helmsman — dead?
The previous Helmsman had been killed less than five years ago. Now another one?
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A storm of arrows descended on Jin Buhuan and Ba Hu.
Jin Buhuan exchanged a glance with Li Suifeng. His saber spun in a seamless curtain, batting aside every shaft.
“Dead?”
Ba Hu frowned. His last punch had been heavy, but with Liu Zhenhe’s cultivation, the man should have lasted two or three more exchanges.
Still — if his old rival was finished, so much the better.
He didn’t dwell on it. Both he and Jin Buhuan had given everything tonight. Both were wounded. Liu Zhenhe dying was well within the realm of possibility.
“In for a copper, in for a tael — why not wipe out the entire branch?”
Ba Hu surveyed the field. Divine Fist Gate corpses were strewn everywhere. Cold fury burned in his eyes.
Tonight, he’d killed Liu Zhenhe — but his own losses were catastrophic. Even his chief disciple Wu Ming was dead.
Aside from himself, the Divine Fist Gate had only one seventh-rank elder left.
The only way to recoup was to annihilate the Nanyang Branch entirely, seize control of the city, recruit fresh blood, and rebuild.
“You paid me five thousand taels. I agreed to help with Liu Zhenhe.”
“My part is done. I’m leaving.”
Jin Buhuan deflected a final volley of arrows, kicked off the ground, and sailed over a dozen zhang before landing outside the compound. He disappeared into the night without a backward glance.
He’d been following orders — Li Suifeng’s orders. The five thousand taels from Ba Hu were a bonus.
Liu Zhenhe was dead. The mission was complete. Ba Hu’s ambitions were none of his concern.
“You—”
Ba Hu hadn’t expected Jin Buhuan to cut and run so shamelessly. But the man was already gone.
Seizing the gap between volleys, Ba Hu’s eyes went cold. He launched himself at Li Suifeng, true qi flooding his fists. Those rough, scarred knuckles — reinforced by qi — could clash with edged weapons and win.
Today, everything else could wait. The man who’d killed his disciple had to die.
Despite his wounds, Ba Hu held nothing back. No margin, no reserve.
And he knew: the closer he got to Li Suifeng, the less the Canal Gang archers could fire without hitting their own man.
“Boss Li — watch out!”
Yuan Hai’s voice was tight with alarm.
Boss Li was formidable — but Ba Hu was a sixth-rank master.
Seeing Li Suifeng make no move to retreat, triumph flickered across Ba Hu’s face.
He liked this kind of arrogant young fighter. Too proud to know when to run. His fists could tear a tiger apart — even a sixth-rank opponent would feel the impact.
“Gate Master of the Divine Fist Gate — I hope your fists are harder than your disciple’s.”
Li Suifeng’s voice was mild.
His right hand darkened to blue-black. Iron Shirt surged to its peak. Two fingers pressed together, driving straight at Ba Hu’s incoming fist.
One-Finger Zen Art.
Since becoming an Elder and acquiring the technique, this was the first time Li Suifeng had used it.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
In a blur of motion, Li Suifeng’s fingers danced like a pipa player’s — tapping, flicking, jabbing. Every movement met Ba Hu’s fists head-on. The One-Finger Zen neutralized every angle of attack.
“You… you’ve mastered multiple external hardening arts, all to this level?”
Ba Hu was stunned.
This kid’s internal energy wasn’t particularly deep — mid to late seventh-rank at best.
But every time Ba Hu projected his true qi, Li Suifeng’s body-hardening arts simply absorbed it.
Intelligence had said Li Suifeng possessed one external art trained to its peak. Clearly, that was wrong.
The man had both an external hardening art and an internal defensive art working in concert.
“A sixth-rank master… doesn’t seem like much.”
Li Suifeng’s finger tapped Ba Hu’s fist. His voice was casual.
If there weren’t so many witnesses, he’d have simply slapped the man to death.
“You—”
Ba Hu’s face flushed crimson. He’d killed two consecutive Nanyang Branch Helmsmen — and now he was being taunted by a man barely out of his youth?
The pace of their exchange accelerated.
The watching Canal Gang disciples — and the growing crowd of jianghu spectators who’d gathered on surrounding rooftops — stared in open-mouthed disbelief.
“This kid… this kid…”
Qi Hu had just arrived. Watching Li Suifeng trade blows with Ba Hu, his entire body shook.
The audacity. The hidden depths.
Li Suifeng had been concealing his true strength under Qi Hu’s nose the entire time. This level of martial prowess would mark him as a supreme prodigy in any major sect.
After tonight, the Human Rankings would have a new name.