Chapter 28: A Breeze Passes the Ear, a Thousand Li Journey

Chu Tianshu had previously experienced switching between two types of opening the senses, but never fully.

He never opened them fully, nor closed them completely.

Even so, it already burdened him, so he never deliberately pushed it—back then, his mental focus was still primarily on fist cultivation.

Now, inspired in battle, in that instant he extended his Spirit-Perceiving Opening to its absolute limit, then, with a single thought, pulled it back with all his strength.

Like a man expelling every last foul breath he’d ever taken, then greedily inhaling the crisp, clean air of wind and rain across heaven and earth.

Countless details from the surrounding scene flooded in.

They collided in his mind, bursting into light, brilliance, color—each line deeply moving, sharply distinct, a dynamic image.

At that moment, the eunuch had already charged toward him.

The wounds on his wrinkled face, the tremors of his skin, the shift from arrogance to gloom—all details were etched in Chu Tianshu’s eyes.

His emaciated body still held that posture: upper torso leaning far forward, feet tautly pushing off the ground.

That was the old form of Heart-Mind Fist.

Since its rise to fame in the late Ming and early Qing, this fist style had always been known for its cruelty; by the Daoguang era of the Qing, it had softened considerably.

Yet Li Neng, the great northern fist master of the time, still judged it too ruthless and lacking in steadiness, so he refined it into Shape-Intent Fist—retaining its ferocity but delivering strikes with greater control and more room for adaptation.

The old eunuch had been trained in the Forbidden City to kill; his superiors never cared whether he was steady or not. Later, when he gained status, his fighting style had already soaked into his nature.

To change his lifelong fist style was impossible; even a slight delay in his strike made him feel as if he’d wasted the punch.

But he reasoned that with the Coin Body Armor, he’d at least compensated for the flaw from another angle.

So though aged, his punches were now faster than they’d been years ago.

His legs like taut bows and crossbows, alternating between release and tension, leaning low to cut through the wind, his fists striking atop that speed.

At close range, his punches exploded like cannonballs.

BOOM!!!

Chu Tianshu could almost see the air ahead slightly swelling from the impact.

And his right hand, at that moment, sliced into that mass of air, striking the inner elbow of the eunuch’s right arm.

His first thought was that his palm had struck an iron rod.

The Coin Body Armor provided full protection—even his eyelids were armored—and of course the inner elbow was reinforced; yet to preserve joint mobility, the recoil there was slightly softer than elsewhere.

This palm strike deflected the opponent’s arm, as if signaling a prelude.

The main assault followed instantly—the eunuch’s fists fired like a volley of arrows, the air churned like mist from shattered droplets, the wind currents like boiling soup and raging snow.

Chu Tianshu’s arms slashed like swift blades—striking form with form, striking shadow with the formless—doubling the chaos of the air before him.

His gnashing teeth, blazing eyes—he seemed barely to have glimpsed a shadow, yet his hand had already struck the spot without hesitation.

Their collision didn’t feel like a string of firecrackers with clear sequence.

It felt like a large iron barrel half-filled with iron beans, shaken with all one’s strength.

In an instant, countless beans struck the barrel.

The noise was so violent it made the mind restless, the eyes dizzy!!

At a distance, Zhong Jinqiu held his breath in that moment.

From his experience, he could at least confirm: every single collision he saw, Chu Tianshu’s palm had struck, struck precisely, the inner elbow of the eunuch’s arm.

Too accurate—but even so, Chu Tianshu’s hand was surely not as hard as the eunuch’s inner elbow.

With such frequency of impact, in seconds Chu Tianshu’s hand would ache and swell.

Zhong Jinqiu snapped back to awareness, instinctively raising his foot—he’d rather cripple another leg than let the old devil go unharmed.

But before he could lift it, a sharp crack rang out.

Exceptionally crisp, yet deafening—like someone smashing a leather raft with tremendous force.

A palm trailing afterimages slammed hard against the side of the eunuch’s head, striking his ear.

The eunuch’s body lurched sideways, crashing to the ground, shattering several stone tiles.

Chu Tianshu’s abdomen trembled—as if his intestines had surged—and his left foot shot forward in a sudden scrape.

His toe struck directly into the eunuch’s eye socket.

THUD!!!

The eunuch’s body spun away, slamming into the wall corner before he could even scream.

“Ahh! You!!”

He rolled on the ground, rose to his feet, one eye a bloody mess, dark red blood oozing from his ear, swaying unsteadily toward Chu Tianshu.

“You’ve only just learned Insight…”

The eunuch pointed at Chu Tianshu, his voice filled with hysterical rage.

But as soon as he took one step, he collapsed to his knees, hands braced on the ground, head lurching left and right, blood dripping onto the tiles, unable to rise.

Extreme dizziness in his skull made him gag.

“Your ears are shattered—how can you still stand?”

Chu Tianshu’s lips trembled slightly—whether from breath or pain, he grinned through gritted teeth.

“I’ve only just learned this battlefield insight—I’m certainly not as seasoned as you.”

“But details perceived must be processed by the mind. You injured your lungs—you’re starved of oxygen to the brain.”

“When we both hold our breath and stand firm to clash, I endure while you exhaust yourself—by the end, your mind simply can’t keep up with mine.”

That’s why the palm struck his ear.

He hadn’t even waited for Chu Tianshu’s hand to swell before receiving the fatal blow.

The eunuch growled: “So that’s how it is…”

After speaking those words, Chu Tianshu’s toe pain had eased; he moved instantly to the eunuch’s side and kicked his other ear.

The eunuch shuddered, his remaining eye filled with bitter defiance.

If he could relive it—avoid the aggressive rush, switch to maneuvering, or simply flee…

His body rolled sideways, fell to the ground, silent.

On the other side, Zhong Jinqiu spun and kicked the ground—stone tiles shattered, two shards shot through the air.

The two servants in the hall, seeing the eunuch defeated, turned to flee—then were struck in the back of the head by the shards and collapsed unconscious.

Chu Tianshu switched hands, inserted several silver needles into his arms, then finally exhaled.

Once he released the taut breath, the pain doubled.

“Damn it!”

Chu Tianshu hooked his foot and flipped the eunuch over.

TING!

A silver needle shot toward the tattoo on the corpse’s chest—but bounced off.

Chu Tianshu let out a soft hiss.

He knew such demonic creations differed from ordinary possessed spirits—they didn’t instantly perish when their master died.

To harvest demonic essence, he had to destroy the creation itself.

But the old man was dead—how could this tattoo still resist penetration?

Fortunately, soon a sparrow flew over the courtyard.

Not long after, Master Ma rushed in, panting.

“Done?”

Master Ma glanced around. “Good. Let’s go quickly—those screams have drawn attention from the street corner.”

“The children are under Meng family care…”

Chu Tianshu interrupted: “Ma Uncle, do you have any other artifacts?”

Master Ma opened the chest: “Only one jar of cinnabar talisman ink remains.”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes lit up—he took it, poured it directly into his palm, then slapped it hard onto the eunuch’s chest.

He struck seven or eight times—the tattoo’s demonic aura, deprived of its master’s control, took the blows passively, gradually crumbling.

Later, the jade coffin in the hall was likewise smashed from head to toe by his palm, now coated in cinnabar talisman ink.

Outside the mansion, the town chief had arrived with Wang Fu and the guards.

“What’s going on? Why are there screams from the old master’s house?”

The town chief looked at the villagers, who didn’t know. “Where are the militia? Didn’t they patrol this area?”

Wang Fu said: “A few days ago, I heard the militia say that when Deputy Officer Zhou was here, he ordered them not to approach—said the old master had his own guards.”

One villager said: “Just now I saw Manager Meng and Master Ma enter.”

As they spoke, several elders emerged carrying a group of children.

Some older children trailed behind, timid and hesitant.

Wang Fu spotted it immediately—some of the walking children still had silver needles embedded in them.

The town chief was utterly bewildered, alarmed and frantic: “What in the world is going on?”

Meng Lianfa, holding his little son with deep tenderness, a wooden board in hand, was about to speak when hooves clattered closer.

Everyone turned toward the road.

Through the light rain, a tall, powerful horse galloped toward them.

The horse looked familiar—but mounted atop it was not a tall, slender soldier, but a armored general.

His helmet gleamed, flared fire-cloud ear guards, iron faceplate covering his face, armor plates densely layered, one hand gripping the reins, the other holding a five-foot-long great sword.

The town chief and others froze in shock.

Although the age of guns and cannons has not yet lasted many years, they had never in their lives seen a general like this.

He seemed like a general who had burst forth from opera scripts or history itself.

Wang Fu and the other guards immediately went on alert, shouting: “Who are you?”

The steed let out a long neigh; the general lifted his leg and leapt down, swift as if the fifty-jin armor did not exist.

When his footsteps struck the street, a tremor rang out, reminding everyone that the armor was no mere decoration.

“It’s me!”

The general lifted his faceplate, revealing the face of Zhou Fuguan, scanning the crowd.

A fist master who had cultivated the Guanyin Bone would find heavy armor more burden than benefit; one who had cultivated the Immortal’s Appetite would find heavy armor like a self-imposed shackle.

But a fist master who had cultivated the Dragon-Wrapped Body had his entire muscular force like a living dragon.

To them, heavy armor was no great burden—its weight and inertia could even become part of the living dragon’s wild power, offering far more advantage than disadvantage.

Zhou Fuguan did not know the precise mysteries of the Sparrow Spirit, but he roughly understood the maximum range a sorcerer could achieve with “Spirit Servitude and Borrowed Sight.”

Beyond that range, he immediately had his armor put on, mounted his horse, and galloped back to town by a detour.

He had expected to arrive in time to clean up the mess, but now it seemed he was still a little late.

“Zhou Fuguan!”

Meng Lianfa cried out, voice and tears streaming.

“You’ve finally returned—a gang of swindlers disguised as a theater troupe deceived Old Master, secretly committing crimes and kidnapping children from many households.”

“Dr. Chu and the others noticed something amiss and rushed to rescue Old Master and the children, but Old Master, being fierce and proud, realized he had been deceived and fought the villains himself.”

This story, upon careful thought by a sharp mind, was clearly false—like a hastily left stepping stone, waiting only for you to willingly embellish it.

For instance, the Town Mayor, who had already guessed the truth, quickly clamped his mouth shut and dared not utter another word.

Zhou Fuguan’s face was as hard as wood; his lips twitched slightly: “So this happened? What of Dr. Chu and the others?”

“After this ordeal, Dr. Chu and the others deeply felt the treachery of the world and have resolved to retire into the mountains.”

Meng Lianfa extended the wooden board in his hand.

Zhou Fuguan took it and saw that the characters on the board looked as if they had been written with fingers.

Brother Zhou, your younger brother has left the mountains to train, endured many trials, and now has achieved something. I have decided to return to the mountains for deeper cultivation. When I have leisure in the future, I will surely come back to visit you all.

Until we meet again!

Zhou Fuguan asked again: “Did all three retire together?”

Didn’t at least one or two of them die?

Meng Lianfa met the general’s gaze calmly: “Yes. Would you like to enter the mansion and take a look?”

Once you enter the mansion, you’ll see none of the three are dead.

Zhou Fuguan lowered his faceplate again, hiding his expression; after a moment, he whispered, barely audible.

“True old hands—hard and ruthless.”

Three who truly fought and truly posed a threat have escaped; the rest of these ants in town may be slow on their feet, but… fine.

After a moment of silence, the general let out a loud wail that shook heaven and earth, then stepped toward the mansion.

“Old Master! I thought and thought, realized something was wrong, and rushed here—but you’ve still been murdered by those villains!!”

The three villains, who struck once and vanished a thousand li away.

Old Master, believe me—I never imagined they could be this wicked!

(End of Chapter)