Chapter 107: The Uncanny [Releasing Tomorrow—Hoping for a First Purchase]

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The lethal strike from Hei Da missed its mark.

When He Chang’an threw his first punch, he was already prepared for a trap. His sword angled sharply, and the punch he had been gathering power for was a test.

He did not want to face a peak-level Martial Warrior head-on.

If he could find a way to wear the opponent down, why risk being crippled by a single blow? This was not wisdom taught by old scholars, nor by A Fei, but an instinct.

He had long affixed the Swift Wind Talismans from Dragon-Tiger Mountain all over his body. Since they were not activated, it wouldn’t waste the three hundred taels of silver they cost.

But when life was at stake, even a mountain of gold could be casually discarded. No matter how reluctant, it was nothing compared to the value of one’s own life.

Therefore, as he drew his sword and charged, he activated seven or eight Swift Wind Talismans at once. He knew these talismans shouldn’t stack their effects, but he had a lingering distrust of that Grand Master from Dragon-Tiger Mountain…

Fortunately, the Swift Wind Talismans worked flawlessly, granting him three to four times his normal speed. At the critical moment, he easily evaded Hei Da’s poisonous mist and his treacherous fourth punch.

After several leaps and bounds, He Chang’an fled headlong to over a hundred yards away, disappearing into a cluster of low buildings.

Hei Da’s face darkened as he strode forward.

Behind him, dozens of black-clad men rode black horses, and without needing orders, they spread out in all directions, surrounding the entire bluestone town with drawn blades.

After committing countless acts of murder and plunder, such coordination had become second nature.

Hei Da leapt onto a three-story building—the tallest in the town—with a commanding view of the entire settlement.

Squinting slightly, he fully unleashed his Martial Warrior’s spiritual perception and imposing aura, which rippled silently outwards like a tidal wave.

A mere ninth-grade Martial Warrior of low standing had slipped away under his nose, which irritated him and raised his guard.

If this one could kill the Swallowing Sky Ape, there must be some trick he wasn’t seeing.

“He Chang’an, eighteen years old, mid-stage ninth-grade Martial Warrior, from a common soldier’s family in Weiyang County, skilled in fist techniques, crafty, also cultivates Confucian righteousness…”

Before the fight, he had received a detailed dossier of over three hundred characters, showing that eliminating this person was a top priority.

In truth, Hei Da was most intrigued by the vague mention of a “possessor of a rare treasure” in the report…

Of course, what annoyed him most at this moment was that “male beauty” from Dragon-Tiger Mountain, who favored fine clothes—a nearly insignificant figure—had become the biggest wildcard in this hunt.

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It was known that the entire bluestone town had long been turned by the Black Flag Mountain into a vast formation, covering over ten miles in every direction.

The small tavern where Bai Er had long been operating and stationed was the formation’s core.

That damned Zhang Xiaoyan had somehow made the entire tavern vanish without a trace.

This realization shocked Hei Da. The methods of the Grand Master’s Mansion of Dragon-Tiger Mountain had always been legendary in the martial world, often dismissed as exaggerations.

Now it seemed that Dragon-Tiger Mountain was truly unfathomable.

Hei Da contemplated coldly, scanning carefully with his spiritual perception but for a time could find no trace of He Chang’an.

Unexpectedly, he discovered A Jiu.

A girl without any spiritual aura, clutching a bamboo sword at her waist, crouched beneath an eave, staring intently at a steamed bun shop opposite.

Hei Da descended from the building in one step and walked toward A Jiu.

Still over a hundred yards away, he stopped and gave a teasing glance at the bamboo sword at her waist, nodding slightly in thought.

Then he took a deep breath and threw a punch toward her from a distance.

To his annoyance, the girl with no spiritual aura vanished on the spot.

His punch missed again, and a fierce wind swept by, smashing a low building into dust and rubble.

…

While Hei Da grimly searched everywhere for He Chang’an, Bai Er and Old Master Mo were locked in a fierce battle.

Bai Er looked alert and wiry, but once fighting, he seemed like a different person—ferocious as a tiger, his punches swift as the wind. In a dozen breaths, he exchanged over a hundred blows with the equally wiry Old Master Mo.

Each punch landed solidly, the sound akin to thunderclaps.

Just as Zhang Xiaoyan had said, Bai Er may have looked lean, but his fist techniques far surpassed that of the tall and imposing Hei Da, every move grand and commanding, embodying the demeanor of a great master.

Old Master Mo, by contrast, appeared fragile but had a lasting presence; his punches were restrained yet powerful, meeting Bai Er’s onslaught without yielding.

The Grand Master of Dragon-Tiger Mountain sat in a chair, delicately holding an ivory comb, smiling gracefully and offering occasional remarks that carried weight, making even the two warriors engaged in deadly combat itch to hear more.

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The insight of Dragon-Tiger Mountain was never poor; these wandering martial artists had only ever looked up to them, never witnessing their true skill.

Especially Old Master Mo, who after hearing a few nagging words from Zhang Xiaoyan, seemed to break through a level—his fist techniques transformed, and even his entire aura changed drastically.

“Old man, that punch was off—you never heard of ‘loose fists with empty intent and profound clarity’?”

“Ah, a punch that holds back its power is like a living person holding in urine—agonizing! You see, boxing isn’t just about restraint, but fluidity; Buddhism teaches self-awareness, awakening others, and perfecting practice—you’ve got to find the right balance.”

…

Thus, a deadly duel turned into mutual refinement through a few casual comments from the delicate “male beauty.”

Not only did Old Master Mo gain much, but even Bai Er gradually patched holes and shortcomings in his fist techniques.

The battle between them grew even more intense and imposing.

At the same time, both grew cautious, harboring increasing respect and wariness toward the Grand Master of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, watching his every move.

“Bai Er, if you don’t hurry, Hei Da will be dead meat.” Zhang Xiaoyan stretched out his pale left hand, calculating with his fingers, smiling as he said:

“The bluestone town’s formation has long since become useless, and now a master has arrived. Looks like your good days are over.”

His words sounded convincing enough to slightly unsettle Bai Er, who was fighting desperately.

Indeed, this neither-man-nor-woman figure’s methods were baffling beyond reason…

In a fight between experts, even the slightest disturbance in one’s spirit is a crack in the Dao heart.

Seizing the opportunity during their exchange of punches, Old Master Mo suddenly shot an arrow from his bosom, aimed straight at Bai Er’s chest.

Bai Er laughed heartily, “Old thief, that’s the move I’ve been waiting for!”

With a punch, he shattered the hidden arrow, bellowing fiercely as his aura soared. A black mist surged from his brow, instantly transforming him into a two-zhang tall, blue-faced, fanged monster.

“Night God Sect!” Old Master Mo cried in alarm, flinging a stack of talismans like they were worthless.

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