Chapter Two: The Thousand-Year Kill
1738 Words
In the shadows cast by the torches of Chapter Two
, a burly, muscular man's smile, far
from friendly, appeared rather menacing. He strode with an awkward, unnatural gait, followed closely by a tall, thin man, his face contorted with schadenfreude.
"You little brats," he said, "don't blame me for being the boss. There are eleven begging spots on Qilin Street, but here you are, not even a tael of silver. It's tough for me."
For some reason, Boss Yan's tone was surprisingly sincere: "The incense master is demanding a hundred taels of silver a month, it's suffocating me. Otherwise, you'd better let me break your arms and legs, cry pitifully, and you might get a little more silver."
The crowd shuddered, a chill running down their spines.
Chen Ping slowly rose, supporting himself on the incense table, and took a deep breath.
In his previous life, he had traveled far and wide, encountering all sorts of people, and he certainly wouldn't misjudge this man's character.
The other party seemed very sincere, asking you to understand his difficulties, but deep down he was extremely cold-blooded, finding his own happiness in the suffering of others.
No, in his eyes, the suffering of others simply didn't exist; he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals and wouldn't tolerate the slightest disobedience.
Da Sha wasn't stupid after all; he wasn't wrong to want to escape.
Because he knew that if he stayed here, Boss Yan would definitely not let him go.
"Thump..."
The two Sunflower Brothers, Xiao Zhuozi and Xiao Dengzi, immediately collapsed, their legs giving way, kneeling amidst the broken bricks and tiles, wailing, "Boss Yan, spare us! I'm educated, I can write, I can do accounts, and I can even..."
"Get out of the way, you two bastards, you're suffocating me!"
Boss Yan didn't even turn his head, just stared intently at Chen Ping. The tall, thin man behind him, shouting fiercely, kicked the two Sunflower Brothers, sending them tumbling.
Zuo Duan Shou stood there motionless, his face expressionless.
He turned to look at Chen Ping.
The painted-face man trembled slightly, reaching out to grab Chen Ping's sleeve. He stubbornly raised his head, glaring hatefully at Boss Yan's** (zhengning, meaning
ferocious) smiling face, as if trying to etch it into his memory. Now, Chen Ping finally understood why, even with his broken leg, a near-fatal fever, and incredibly weak body, no one had dared to steal his coveted sleeping spot under the incense table.
It turned out he was the "leader" of these little beggars.
So, the question arose: was Da Sha truly stupid, daring to steal his "leader's" food?
This couldn't be explained simply by the guy's poor judgment; it only proved that his original self was perhaps quite kind-hearted…capable and compassionate, able to unite everyone into one. Therefore, after Boss Yan specifically targeted and broke his leg, he finally succumbed to a fever.
Indeed, good people don't live long.
The logic was now complete.
“You guys are a bit older, even with broken arms and legs, you're still much worse off than three- or five-year-old children. It's hard to evoke pity from others and you won't earn much money. But at least you could make a pittance, better than what you look like now.”
A ruthless glint flashed in Yan's eyes. He didn't bother to say more, and lunged forward, extending his dark blue hand to grab Chen Ping's arm with a sharp gust of wind.
His fingers were hooked, each as thick as a r****h,
clearly showing he had practiced hand-to-hand combat. This man wasn't just brute force; he understood the principle of “capture the leader first.” Once the leader was subdued, the others wouldn't dare to resist and could only obediently let him break their arms and legs.
He wasn't even on guard. He knew from the last time he broke the other's leg that this handsome and composed young man wasn't as capable as he appeared. Besides his natural strength, he didn't even know basic fighting techniques.
Having mastered bone forging, possessing immense strength and a refined skill, he was incapable of missing.
He even envisioned tearing off the opponent's arm, then crushing his hands and feet into a bloody pulp, the uglier the wound, the better.
Of course, he would also s***h the opponent's face; a man looking like that—wasn't that cheating? What
if, while begging, he seduced a passing young lady who then sent people to harass him? That wouldn't be so pleasant.
Thinking of this, a sense of exhilaration rose within him. He loved nothing more than watching someone wail at his hands, especially these powerless "sheep." It made him feel undeniably powerful, holding life and death in his hands—how wonderful!
The "prey" before him finally panicked, losing his previous calm and collected demeanor. He flailed his arms, desperately trying to dodge to the side and backward, but how could he possibly outrun his grasp?
Boss Yan sneered inwardly, when suddenly a cloud of gray mist appeared before him.
Before he could even react, his vision blurred; countless tiny powder particles stung his eyes… In the dim light, a dark shadow seemed to lunge at him, and he heard the whooshing sound of wind trying to pass under his armpits.
'Incense ash…'
The thought flashed through his mind. He roared, quickly raising his hands to protect his eyes and chest, and with a lightning-fast kick, a fierce gust of wind arose. *Crack!
* He shattered the incense table into pieces. Retracting his leg, he hadn't even regained his balance when a jolt struck the back of his head, and his body froze, unable to move.
Chen Ping's face was ashen, and he was breathing heavily. He was already standing behind Boss Yan, his broken right knee wound reopening, blood gushing out. The bamboo pole that Hua Lian'er had carefully tied was now broken, embedded in his flesh.
The movement he had just made required the use of his entire body, hands, feet, body, and eyes, leaving him no time to think of anything else; his injured leg had also suffered considerable strain.
It must be said that although his body didn't appear particularly strong, his strength and speed were indeed exceptional among ordinary people; in other words, he was a natural-born martial arts prodigy.
While his physique was quite good, he had lost a leg, his body was weak, and he seemed to have never practiced any routines. Even the slightest movement could twist his hip or sprain his tendons…
In his mind, he forcibly controlled his body to use the "Hidden Flower Under the Leaf" move of Baguaquan, throwing out a handful of incense ash. Then, using the "Pulling Grass to Find the Snake" move, he crouched low, circling around behind Boss Yan. With a backflip, he plunged the rusty iron handle of the incense ash shovel into the back of Yan's neck, severing the nerves.
This seemingly simple movement was the culmination of twenty years of intensive training and practice in his previous life.
Even with a different body, a different world, and a broken leg…
the life-and-death combat experience etched into his bones and soul hadn't been discarded.
The essence of "Hidden Flower Under the Leaf" lies in the word "hidden"—it's all about deception. There are no
fixed moves or techniques; no restrictions on fists, feet, swords, or knives. The goal is simply to deceive the opponent into not seeing the act of throwing incense ash.
Like magic, it appears to be martial arts, but it contains profound principles and involves psychological warfare.
Even if Boss Yan were completely unprepared, even if he were on high alert, he might not be able to dodge it…
The “panicked dodges” and “flailing arms” are all for him to see. What he doesn’t want to see, he will never see.
For Chen Ping, the “concealment” technique is a clever move, easy to execute; rather, the movements of his body moving like a dragon, rising and falling, coiling around the body and stabbing at the neck, are far too difficult.
However, at least he did it, and the execution was quite good.
Even his grandfather in the afterlife would praise him.
Seeing the attack, Boss Yan staggered and fell to the ground, hit by the elbow strike. The tall, thin man three steps behind him finally reacted, drawing his half-length iron spike from his waist and wildly swinging it as he tried to rush forward. He had
only taken two steps when he jumped up with a "whoosh," bounced twice, and then collapsed headfirst to the ground, convulsing violently.
Chen Ping turned his head and saw it clearly.
His eyes twitched uncontrollably.
Just as the tall, thin man was about to charge forward with the iron spike, the severed left hand had already taken the initiative, rolling on the ground, grabbing a thin bamboo pole from the ground, and thrusting it upwards.
The bamboo pole struck the tall, thin man squarely in the buttocks, going three feet deep.
What a "Thousand-Year Kill" move! No matter
how fierce the tall, thin man was, he was clearly no longer capable of such ferocity.
The little table was stunned by the series of events, its mouth agape. The little stool, however, didn't falter. It picked up half a brick, took two steps forward, straddled the tall, thin man, closed its eyes, and howled as it began to smash the man's forehead.
"Call me a eunuch, huh? I'll teach you to call me a eunuch!"
It struck seven or eight times until the brick shattered and fell to the ground, then opened its eyes. It found the tall, thin man's face was a mangled mess, only his legs twitching intermittently before quickly becoming still.
The torch fell to the ground, gradually dimming, wisps of smoke curling upwards…
In the dilapidated earth temple, only the heavy breathing of a few people remained.
Of course, there was also the sound of the painted-face man's upper teeth gently clicking against his lower teeth.
Just then, a loud "bang" came from outside the door, as if something had been knocked over… followed by a series of hurried footsteps fading into the distance.
"Someone actually followed us, but didn't enter the temple."
The group exchanged glances, realizing they were in deep trouble…
- Writer
