Chapter 48: Indoor Combat

Lao Ya, now hiding with three accomplices outside the window, immediately smashed through the glass upon hearing the earlier commotion.

The moment he entered, he saw Li Yi standing by the door.

This filled him with sudden delight.

As long as he locked onto Li Yi’s position and saw him in person, half the mission was already accomplished—he didn’t believe a greenhorn who’d only cultivated for a month could survive this situation.

Although killing in the old district carried a heavy price.

But the value of a strange artifact was enough to make anyone risk it, ignoring that cost.

In the dim living room.

Several pairs of eyes glowed brightly, all fixed on Li Yi, brimming with murderous intent.

Those who took on assassination jobs were rarely gentle souls.

“Lao Ya? Good, you came. Last time, you and that woman nearly got me killed in the Ruin District, and you never paid the promised money. Today, let’s settle this debt once and for all. If any of you uninvolved fools aren’t afraid of death, come on—I’ll kill one, I’ll kill two, same difference.”

Li Yi’s gaze turned icy, his fists stained with blood; the ferocity within him ignited, and at the same time, some invisible shackles binding him slipped away.

Even a cornered beast fights back—how much more so a martial artist who trained with fists?

“Li Yi, you know why I’m here. If you hand over the item, I might let you live.” Lao Ya’s voice was low, yet he sensed a thread of danger.

“You’ve broken into my home and still talk nonsense? You’ve lost all credibility with me—go bargain with ghosts.”

Li Yi grinned, his body shifting slightly, then tensing violently—power erupted instantly.

The ground beneath his feet cracked open, and he lunged forward like a ferocious beast, moving so fast he closed the distance to a cultivator in the blink of an eye, leaving no time to lock onto him, not even a chance to use spiritual sense.

“This burst power… what the hell?” The man froze in shock, pupils contracting sharply as he saw only a blur of a fist in his vision.

“Damn, no time to block!”

“Boom!”

The punch exploded against the cultivator’s chest.

Ribs shattered, and the man vomited blood, eyes wide with terror as he realized Li Yi’s fist had sunk deep into his chest cavity.

He tried to resist, but his body had gone numb.

Not only were his ribs broken—his spine had snapped too.

The power of that punch was terrifying.

“All of you, attack together—no holding back!” Lao Ya realized the gravity of the situation and roared.

As he spoke, he charged at Li Yi, eyes flashing as he activated spiritual sight.

The dim living room suddenly flared bright.

“Lao Ya, you think only you can use spiritual sight?” Li Yi’s eyes narrowed, his gaze glowing.

Spiritual sight met spiritual sight.

They canceled each other out.

“Li Yi, you’re alone—today, you die here no matter what.” Lao Ya, using the cover of spiritual sight, closed in and roared, swinging a heavy punch straight at Li Yi’s head.

With a cultivator’s strength, a full-power punch—even without special technique—could knock a man unconscious.

In this situation, unconsciousness meant death.

Li Yi didn’t hold back—he raised his other arm and countered with an elbow strike.

Power erupted again, a thunderous crack echoing.

Lao Ya felt his arm jolt, then searing pain—his cry tore from his throat.

His arm was shattered—bones broken, fist twisted, all five fingers crushed, the entire limb rendered useless. The collision instantly revealed the gap between them—even though he’d entered the Spirit Medium realm long before Li Yi, he was now utterly outmatched.

“This isn’t ordinary fistwork… it’s a technique—a fist technique.” Lao Ya’s forehead dripped with cold sweat; the overwhelming force sent him flying backward, and in that instant, he understood.

Ordinary fists couldn’t achieve this power—only a technique could unlock a cultivator’s full strength.

But when had Li Yi learned a fist technique? No prior intelligence had ever hinted at this.

Suddenly, the other two cultivators seized the opening and closed in on Li Yi.

One brandished a dagger, lunging straight for Li Yi’s heart.

Li Yi tensed his skin and muscles, powered by his spine, and whipped the severely wounded cultivator he’d just punched through the chest—flinging him like a shield to intercept the dagger. His punches were brutal, but his body wasn’t yet strong enough to withstand cold steel.

But the other Spirit Medium cultivator didn’t hesitate—he launched a heavy kick, pushing ordinary martial arts to their limit.

Li Yi was caught off guard, took the kick, and staggered backward until he slammed into the wall behind him.

But the force was scattered—it didn’t inflict serious damage.

Meanwhile.

The front door burst open—the two cultivators from the hallway rushed in. They paused at the scene inside, then seized the chance to activate spiritual sight on Li Yi, not aiming to kill him, only to disrupt and suppress him.

After all, they’d seen from outside just how deadly Li Yi was—they dared not get close, terrified of being punched to death.

?￠o

“Your spiritual sight is too slow.”

But Li Yi seized the opening—he exploded forward, channeling power, and the wall behind him cracked and peeled away as if propelled by invisible force, launching him straight to the two cultivators at the door.

His foot hit the ground—power rose from the earth.

“Get out of the way of his fist!” Lao Ya screamed in panic.

Avoid?

Too late. Now they die.

Li Yi raised both arms, assuming a perfect fist stance, and thrust both fists forward—two thunderous cracks erupted simultaneously, shaking the room, making everyone’s ears ring and hearts contract.

These two punches were even stronger.

In the blink of an eye.

The two cultivators never even activated spiritual sight—they were blasted backward. One crashed through the door and tumbled into the hallway; the other was hurled into the kitchen, landing hard on the floor. Both bore deep, penetrating fist marks—marks that shattered their internal organs.

Yet Spirit Medium cultivators were stubbornly resilient—such grievous wounds didn’t kill them instantly, only left them writhing in helpless moans, voices thick with despair and terror.

Because they knew: unless rushed to a hospital immediately, they wouldn’t survive long.

Just after knocking those two down.

Suddenly, another figure flashed up to Li Yi’s face.

The dagger-wielding cultivator snarled, power surging, driving the blade forward.

No escape.

Li Yi instinctively raised his hand to block.

The dagger pierced his palm—and threatened to rip through his entire body.

“Li Yi, is it? I don’t believe you’ll still be so fierce after I slit your belly open!” the cultivator roared, determined to end this human beast.

He understood.

If they didn’t kill Li Yi tonight, all of them would die here.

Li Yi felt searing pain in his palm, his face twitching—but he forced himself to endure it. As he retreated, he gripped the dagger’s hilt with his wounded hand.

The blade’s tip had just pierced his abdomen when it stopped—unable to advance further.

At that moment, the cultivator’s heart pounded wildly—a surge of intense dread flooded him.

No.

Li Yi’s other fist had already risen—and struck the cultivator’s forehead.

This time, the power wasn’t well controlled.

The counterattack came too fast; his body hadn’t yet developed instinctive power flow—no crisp explosion sounded, and the force scattered.

Even so, the cultivator heard his skull crack—and his vision plunged into darkness. Blood gushed from his ears, mouth, and nostrils; he lost balance and collapsed heavily.

But before he hit the ground, Li Yi added a knee strike.

Boom!

The sound echoed—the cultivator didn’t cry out. He was kicked backward and fell lifeless before touching the floor, likely dead already.

This brutal slaughter terrified the last remaining cultivator—he hesitated, no longer daring to approach Li Yi, terrified of being punched to death.

Lao Ya, his arm shattered, sweating through the pain, had no will left to fight.

“Why stop? Lao Ya, look at me.”

In the dim light, Li Yi was drenched in blood, eyes glowing, fists clenched, staring coldly at Lao Ya and the last cultivator. He didn’t pause—he stepped forward, one slow, deliberate step at a time.

“You little bastard…” Lao Ya’s eyelids twitched, ice crawling through his heart.

He felt as if he were hunting a terrifying beast from the Danger Zone—this Li Yi was no longer something a Spirit Medium cultivator could oppose.

Seven men.

Seven men, all ruthless Spirit Medium cultivators—and in less than a minute since entering this room, Li Yi had killed three with his fists, left two critically wounded, and shattered Lao Ya’s arm. Only one remained unharmed.

But even that one was probably terrified out of his wits…

“Run!”

Indeed, the last cultivator had lost all courage. Facing Li Yi’s advancing steps, he broke down and turned to flee without hesitation.

“Boom!”

At the same instant, Li Yi’s form surged forward.

The cultivator had barely reached the window when a punch struck his back—he collapsed, tumbling out the window.

A dull thud echoed outside—and then silence.

Lao Ya didn’t move. He glanced once, knowing: no one in this room would leave alive—not even him.

“Heh, I thought seven men would be enough to take you down… turns out I underestimated you…” He let out a bitter laugh: “Is this strange artifact really so terrifying? To turn an ordinary man into this?”

“Blame your own greed. If you’d just paid me instead of trying to kill me, I wouldn’t have wanted that pile of junk. And do you really think I killed you all because of the artifact?” Li Yi’s voice was icy, brimming with murderous intent.

"That makes sense. Rare artifacts can only help you cultivate quickly, but they can't get you to this level." Only now did Lao Ya notice the room's peculiarities.

The ceiling, walls, and floor were all marked with fist impressions and footprints.

These were all traces left by Li Yi after years of hard training.

"I admit I got beaten today, but don't get too cocky..." Lao Ya sneered.

"You've said too much. It's time to go."

But before he finished speaking, Li Yi was already standing before him, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed him whole—a powerful punch came crashing down.

Lao Ya's eyes narrowed; he tried to resist, but it was useless.

Boom!

The punch's echo reverberated; the walls trembled.

Then silence settled over the room.

Li Yi's fists were stained with blood; he breathed heavily, staring at Lao Ya's corpse, then glanced back at the others.

The two cultivators who had been screaming moments ago were now motionless—either unconscious or dead.

No other cultivators seemed to have entered from outside.

It looked like the crisis was over?

No.

Not yet.

Someone else was still there.

Li Yi's ears twitched suddenly—he heard footsteps climbing the stairs.