Chapter 86: Chapter 86
His right fist hammered against the iron arm locked around his throat!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each blow rang out like steel clashing against steel.
Iron Bone Art!
The cold light in Shen Xiuhan’s eyes grew ever more frigid. His qi-blood erupted without reserve, and the muscles of his right arm swelled like slabs of rock.
Creak… creak…
Ma Xianyang’s throat cartilage let out a tortured groan. His feet scrabbled against the floor, his body bucking backward in desperate, futile thrashing.
But the arm around his neck might as well have taken root. It cinched tighter with every passing second.
“Ghkk!”
Despair flooded Ma Xianyang’s eyes. His face slowly turned a mottled purple.
After several dozen breaths, the force of his struggling grew weaker and weaker. His legs dragged limp across the floor. The right hand clawing at Shen Xiuhan’s forearm finally lost its strength and dangled slack.
But Shen Xiuhan still didn’t let go. He wrenched once more.
CRACK!
A bone-chilling snap. Ma Xianyang’s cervical spine was twisted clean through. Only then did Shen Xiuhan release his hands.
THUD.
Ma Xianyang’s heavy, towering corpse hit the floor like a heap of mud.
Shen Xiuhan stepped forward, channeled qi-blood into his right foot, and stamped down hard on the already broken neck.
CRACK!
The vertebrae were crushed beyond repair.
After that stomp, not even a divine immortal could bring him back.
Shen Xiuhan crouched swiftly, rifled through the body with practiced hands, and swept up Ma Xianyang’s coin purse and personal effects.
Then his form blurred. He vaulted onto the wall and vanished into the night.
…
Day two since Ma Xianyang’s neck went crooked.
The horizon had barely turned the pale belly of a fish. Morning mist hung like gauze over the inner city’s streets and lanes.
In the private compound.
Shen Xiuhan stood bare-chested, feet rooted to the dark-brick ground like the gnarled base of an old tree. He faced the thin morning wind and worked through Dark Eagle Stance.
His spine arched like a drawn bow. With every pulse of force, his bones crackled and popped — crisp as pearls dropping onto a jade plate.
As the stance drove on, his chest heaved like a bellows.
Arms slightly bent, fingers hooked into empty claws.
With every stretch and twist, thick cords of muscle rolled visibly beneath his skin like serpents.
Torrential qi-blood roared through his body. Sweat ran in sheets, steaming off him in great clouds of white vapor that curled upward in the morning light.
With the boost of pills and Deduction, Shen Xiuhan had broken through Bone Tempering only days ago — yet his progress was already unstoppable. The second primary bone had been forged.
Shoulder bones — done!
“Hoo…”
One full set of the stance completed, Shen Xiuhan expelled a breath of turbid air. A keen glint flashed through his eyes.
“My progress through Bone Tempering is actually faster than Blood Tempering was. The remaining two primary bones should be fully tempered within twenty days or so. After that, I can start pushing for the Sinew Tempering barrier.”
Savoring the increasingly condensed power within, he folded out of his stance with satisfaction.
He walked to the well, scooped up a ladle of ice-cold water, and poured it over his head, rinsing away the sweat and grime.
He changed into a clean blue shirt, pushed aside the rough cloth curtain, and stepped into the front eatery.
The place was already packed.
Over a dozen customers squeezed around the five square tables, the steamy fragrance of bone-broth noodles filling the room, mingled with the hum of idle chatter.
Shen Xiuhan moved briskly, helping Madam Zheng carry bowls and pour water, weaving between the tables.
“Wang Ergou, you hear? Last night something huge went down in the county — blew the lid right off!”
A man slurped a great mouthful of wide noodles and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
“Ha, who hasn’t heard? It’s been all over South Street since this morning!”
A fellow diner at the same table wiped the grease from his lips and snatched the thread.
“Tongbei Martial Hall’s third disciple, Ma Xianyang — killed in his sleep last night. In his own inner-court wing room, quiet as you please!”
Someone nearby chimed in.
“And that’s not the half of it! I heard his neck was wrung clean off. The servants didn’t find him till this morning. Word is Hall Mistress Song Yanrong lost her mind on the spot — punished over a dozen night-watch disciples in one go!”
“Huh? Tongbei Martial Hall?”
The man who’d started the conversation blinked, waving his hands. “No, no, that’s not what I was talking about! I meant the eldest son of the Ma Trading House — Ma Jinghang.”
“What?”
“This one you won’t have heard! Last night he was out drinking at a brothel in the West Market, got himself blind drunk, and on the way home fell headfirst into a muddy ditch and drowned!”
“That doesn’t add up. I heard the young Master Ma was studying martial arts at a big school in the Nanxiang prefectural city. A bit of drink, and he ends up drowning?”
“Who can say for certain? His family doesn’t buy it either — first thing this morning they were hauling the body to the yamen, beating the drum and wailing for the magistrate!”
“Ai!”
An older diner at the next table let out a sigh and shook his head.
“These are troubled times, truly. Even a top disciple of Tongbei Martial Hall and the young master of the Ma Trading House can lose their lives out of nowhere…”
“You said it. Even the inner city isn’t safe these days…”
“Enough, enough — the noodles are here. Stop with the gloomy talk and eat while they’re hot!”
“Your noodles, sir. Enjoy.”
Shen Xiuhan set the bowl on the table, offered a pleasant nod, and turned back toward the kitchen.
He had committed every word Ma Xianyang said last night to memory.
To prevent Ma Jinghang’s loose mouth from causing further trouble, he had made a detour to the West Market and shut the young master’s mouth for good.
The aftermath was handled cleanly — staged as a drunk drowning. No coroner, however thorough, would find a flaw.
Shaking his head, Shen Xiuhan put the episode out of mind and got back to work.
He kept busy in the eatery until noon, then ate a bowl of noodles for his midday meal.
The afternoon’s leisure was spent in the back courtyard with Shen Momo, playing with Clucky, Quacky, and Goosey — the three Azure Spike Fowl chicks, whose downy feathers were growing thicker by the day.
When late afternoon arrived, Shen Xiuhan packed his belongings, said his goodbyes to his mother and little sister.
He pushed open the compound gate and headed straight for Mei Hall.
He had barely crossed two lanes before he sensed something was off.
The streets were visibly crawling with extra Tongbei Martial Hall disciples in grey house colors.
Every one of them wore a face like iron, eyes cold and sharp. They moved in groups of three to five, patrolling and questioning people at every intersection, sending passersby scurrying with tight-lipped resentment.
Shen Xiuhan hitched the bundle on his back tighter and walked through the intersection, expression perfectly normal.
At Mei Hall, the faint thread of medicinal fragrance reached his nose before he even entered the inner court.
A single breath set his qi-blood stirring pleasantly, loosening his joints.
Inside the inner court, Mei Shuangfeng sat at the courtyard table, a trace of fatigue between her brows.
Shen Xiuhan bowed respectfully at once.
“Greetings, Master! I’ve settled all my affairs in the city and have come to take my leave. I’ll be heading back to Yunyi Island.”
Mei Shuangfeng gave a slight nod and drew a white porcelain vial from her sleeve, setting it on the stone table.
“The task is done…”
“With that Antlered Bighead antler, and your Jade-Hearted Lotus Root — which was well preserved — this batch of Jade Quench Pills turned out better than I expected. Have a look.”
Shen Xiuhan cradled the vial in his palm. His thumb flicked, popping the red silk stopper free.
HUMMM!
A refreshing fragrance — clean and ethereal, like a green lotus after rain — burst forth.
Shen Xiuhan peered inside. At the bottom of the vial lay ten perfectly round, plump pills.
Their bodies were flawless and translucent, the surfaces shimmering with a warm, jade-like luster. Not a trace of impurity or pill toxin in sight.
Supreme-grade full pills!
On the black market, a single pill of this quality would be enough to make any martial artist stuck at Bone Tempering draw his blade and fight to the death.
Shen Xiuhan’s expression turned solemn. He clasped his fists in a deep bow. “Thank you, Master!”
“No need for that. By the way — don’t involve yourself in the Bai family matter for now. Wait until I’ve had a chance to look into it quietly.”
“Understood!”
“The martial path is long. Forging your body is ultimately something you must do yourself. Go on — the winds are strong on Yunshui Lake. Watch your step out there.”
Mei Shuangfeng waved him off, closed her eyes, and settled into rest. She said no more.