Here’s a little martial arts tip: channeling your inner energy can enhance your hearing, but it requires complete concentration.
“Iron Old Master… secretly summoned… for what reason?”
“I… have no children either, why…”
“Only know that he was entrusted by someone…”
“…he must have offended someone he shouldn’t have…”
“True, after all, a thousand taels is no small sum…”
The brothel was noisy and chaotic, filled with all sorts of instruments playing. Zhong Lingxiu couldn’t hear clearly but pieced together bits of information: the Iron Old Master, who was childless and well-respected throughout Zhengzhou, had suddenly called on righteous martial artists to deal with Tian Boguang. Everyone believed he was acting on someone else’s behalf.
Most likely, this person was a relative of a victim, afraid that their daughter’s misfortune would become public knowledge. That’s why they went through intermediaries. The proof was Iron Old Master’s promise: whoever could kill Tian Boguang would receive a thousand taels—a hefty reward beyond what his own wealth could easily cover.
Hmm, even minor characters without names are quite sharp.
No wonder this world, famed for political scheming, is so ruthless.
Zhong Lingxiu momentarily drifted into a quiet complaint but immediately lost track of the sounds, startling her into focusing and continuing her inner cultivation.
“…Will they really come?”
“Maybe they don’t have the courage…”
“There’s quite a commotion…”
“…They haven’t left…”
What does that mean? Tian Boguang showed himself in the city? He doesn’t take these people seriously?
Zhong Lingxiu guessed silently, when suddenly a commotion stirred at the door. All the idle martial artists sat up, their faces solemn as they stared toward the staircase. The maids and courtesans panicked and scattered, but the madam couldn’t help but frown, roughly pulling a young woman beside her and pushing her forward. “Master Tian is here, Lianhua, hurry up and attend to him.”
Lianhua was about eighteen, with fine eyebrows and red lips, forcing a smile as she coquettishly nestled close.
Tian Boguang’s exact age was hard to tell—not tall, not short, neither handsome nor ugly. His skin was rough and slightly dark, typical for a man of the martial world. The only unusual thing was his walking posture—exceptionally light and agile, as if he could leap through a window at any moment or draw his blade to face an enemy instantly.
He reached out and touched Lianhua’s face, as if intending to lean in for a kiss.
“A perfect chance!” The closest martial artist’s expression hardened. Without missing the rare opportunity, his long knife sliced through the worn, dark red curtain, flying toward Tian Boguang’s neck. At the same time, iron whips, common weapons, and broad blades struck from different directions. Their owners had no intention of fighting one-on-one; instead, they planned to combine their efforts to take him down.
Lianhua trembled in fear, unsure where to hide. Tian Boguang chuckled and casually shoved her out of the circle of blades, then drew the knife at his waist. He leisurely blocked every attack.
Clang clang clang clang.
With each pleasing metallic clash, a weapon was knocked to the ground.
Zhong Lingxiu watched in despair. Even with her sharp eyes, it was clear these heroes were too slow.
They swung once, and Tian Boguang had already swung three times: one to deflect blades, one to break openings, one to cut off counterattacks.
In other words, he had sealed off their follow-up moves, forcing them to drop their weapons.
Such a fierce start, now reduced to dropping their weapons and retreating in disgrace—not strong in damage but insulting all the same.
In no time, the five attackers were all driven back.
Their faces darkened, though they hadn’t fled. Fear showed in their eyes: this infamous lecher, hated by all, was still alive and well, his martial skill undeniably formidable.
“Hah.” Tian Boguang scooped up a nearby wine cup, spinning the porcelain dismissively. “A mere rabble like you thinks it can kill Tian? Ridiculous! Get lost!”
“I’ll take your dog life!” A burly man with a beard exploded in anger, ignoring his fallen meteor hammer and snatching a nearby chair to swing at Tian Boguang. As Tian Boguang sidestepped, the man raised his arms, pulling back twin hammers and smashing them toward him.
Tian Boguang’s footwork was exquisite, dodging and weaving. The meteor hammers shattered pillars and crushed tables, but couldn’t land a blow.
“Not good.” A scholarly-looking man noticed the danger and warned urgently, “Sir, retreat now.”
Too late.
The bearded man thought he was pursuing step by step, but had been lured into a corner behind a railing. Suddenly, Tian Boguang leapt, his form ghost-like as he slipped past the pillar and appeared behind the man. He didn’t even bother to draw his fast blade—raising his leg, he kicked the bearded man’s back. The man was large but his inner strength was mediocre. He couldn’t withstand the blow, flying out over the railing and crashing hard to the ground.
Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, and the back of his head oozed a mix of red and white matter.
He was dead.
Back then, Nun Dingyan held out for three seconds; this man lasted about ten. Yet in the face of life and death, seven seconds makes no difference.
“I thought ‘Iron Courage’ had gathered some formidable people.” Tian Boguang laughed heartily. “This is all you got to stop me? Pathetic, laughable!”
He swept his gaze over the remaining attackers and said casually, “Tell me who sent ‘Iron Courage,’ and I’ll spare your lives.”
“We’re no match for this lecher.” The scholar whispered, “Let’s return and discuss with Old Master Iron first.”
Beside him stood a youth in fine clothes, furious. “If you’re leaving, then go! I’m not leaving. Lecher, come and die!” He flipped back his sleeve, revealing an iron pen like a soul-hook, and slashed fiercely at Tian Boguang.
Tian Boguang blocked with his knife, laughing, “A black-and-white judge’s pen. I see, you’re that brat from the Zhang family, here for your sister Zhang…”
As he exposed the origin of his own martial arts, the youth’s face involuntarily flushed red. When Tian Boguang was about to name his sister, the redness instantly vanished, and the youth staggered.
“Miss Zhang really is…” Tian Boguang started to tease further, but suddenly his expression shifted. He slashed the iron pen down, then spun to block a flying long sword.
The sword’s flashing light twisted and danced, the cold iron blade reflecting candlelight brilliantly, dazzling the eyes.
Tian Boguang narrowed his eyes slightly and intercepted the opponent’s attacks with three quick, precise cuts. Unexpectedly, the brilliance of this sword style lay in its fragmentation.
One sword strike was one move; one move was one attack.
“What a fine sword technique.” The scholar blurted, looking at the attacker.
He wore a dull blue-yellow garment dyed unevenly, with no patterns. His belt was tightly wrapped without a loose thread. His hair was fully covered by a black cloth, and his face hidden behind a wooden mask, completely concealing his identity.
Tian Boguang, this infamous lecher, hated by all, was now facing a youth with excellent swordsmanship—hiding in plain sight. Could it be…
The scholar’s thoughts stirred. “Young hero, do you need our assistance?”
Assist what? Can I even kill him?
Zhong Lingxiu was troubled.
She had planned to spend time undercover, studying her enemy’s personality and memorizing his blade techniques. Once she understood them, she’d coordinate with her sect for a joint strike—that would be the safest approach. But Tian Boguang was shameless. The person who had asked for revenge wanted to protect their daughter’s reputation, yet he had to expose Miss Zhang here in public after harming her.
What face would Miss Zhang have to live with afterward? How would the exposed Zhang young master face his family? So, she drew her sword.
Some regret, but no remorse.
Zhong Lingxiu twisted her wrist, narrowly spinning her sword to block the blade aimed at her face.
She’d been forced to use the Hengshan Sword Technique.
This guy’s blade was just too fast—defense was difficult, let alone killing him. Surely he hadn’t used full strength against the others?
She thought and observed, but was still decisively losing.
No way to win.
Activate retreat plan.
Zhong Lingxiu gave up defending and countered with Huashan’s White Rainbow Piercing the Sun thrust, followed by Qingcheng Sect’s Pingsha Luoyan, then shifted her body to perform Taishan Sect’s Bright Moon Without Clouds slash with reasonable form.
Thanks to Linghu Chong’s friendly help, she didn’t have to rely solely on Hengshan swordplay; otherwise, rumors would surely paint Hengshan disciples in a bad light after today’s incident.
Ah, avenging someone while hiding one’s identity—what a bitter fate.
If only I could kill him with one strike.
Zhong Lingxiu sighed in frustration, leapt back two steps, dodging Tian Boguang’s increasingly sharp blade, and broke through the window.
Tian Boguang’s eyes flickered, and he stopped pursuing.
He clearly saw his opponent was a youth, skilled and versatile in swordsmanship, certainly from a renowned school. Such a person appearing mysteriously in a brothel, exchanging twenty or thirty moves before running—it looked like a trap.
Perhaps the rabble from before was just a distraction, and this youth was the bait Iron Courage set, meant to lure him into an ambush.
“We’re retreating too.” The scholar grabbed the young man’s sleeve and also escaped through a window.
The other helpers and passersby dared not linger, scattering like birds and beasts.
The music resumed, fragmented and uneasy; even the singing and dancing fell out of rhythm.
Zhong Lingxiu removed her mask and gazed toward the brightly lit window nearby, her mind racing: Did Tian Boguang not chase because he didn’t care about these petty thieves, or was he wary of another trap? If the former, he was arrogant and proud; if the latter, suspicious and cautious.
Hard to say. Better to watch a bit longer.
She focused and kept her eyes on him.
Tian Boguang’s room lit up for a while. She saw him drinking, bathing, and teasing courtesans. When the moon rose high and the candles extinguished, he seemed to go to bed.
But just after a short incense stick burned, a figure quietly slipped out of the room, quickly melting into the night along the shadows by the wall, disappearing without a trace amid the snoring patrons and weeping courtesans.
Tsk, putting on a casual act on the surface—eating and drinking after a fierce battle, carefree—yet sneaking away secretly. Such cunning.
Zhong Lingxiu silently followed.
Having a “golden finger” is truly useful.
The red light on Tian Boguang’s body wasn’t obvious amid the flickering lamps, but in the darkness, it shone like a firefly, making it easy to track his escape route from afar.
However, this guy’s lightness skill was impressive—just a few leaps and bounds took him over half a street. The nickname “Lone Wanderer” was well deserved.
This was going to be tough.
Zhong Lingxiu exhaled and braced herself, continuing the pursuit.