Chapter 45: One After Another

After knocking Xiao Hu flying, two legs suddenly shot out from behind the shield and landed on the ground.

It turned out that when the shield had flown toward them just now, a whole person had curled up behind it.

No wonder the impact was so fierce—even after being dampened by the bullet’s counterforce, it still sent Xiao Hu flying, life or death unknown.

Above the shield, another man revealed half his face, flashing a glance at Cai Shanjun.

That man was Meng Daizong.

None of the men sent to hunt down Cai Shanjun were timid or afraid of death.

They only feared they wouldn’t get the chance.

Killing Cai Shanjun was a golden opportunity to rise swiftly in rank.

Therefore, when Meng Daizong dispatched the ninjas, he didn’t just let them charge ahead while he hid behind.

As the ninjas moved forward, he had already set motion himself.

His weapon was a shield hidden behind the car—shaped like an iron pot, dull black and lusterless, heavy and substantial.

The ninjas entered the forest, confirmed the approximate location of their target, and drew attention.

Meng Daizong took advantage of the distraction to circle around and sneak into the forest via another route.

Now, at last, he came face-to-face with the target.

Just from the half-smile of triumph visible on Meng Daizong’s face, one could tell he had at least twenty or thirty fiery, triumphant words ready to spill.

Cai Shanjun, you’ve finally fallen into my hands!

You rebel, blind to the times—your death is upon you now!

I’ll take your head, Cai, to forge my future glory and advancement!

But he said not a single word.

At the very instant he peered out and showed that expression.

His body lunged forward again.

Cai Shanjun’s gaze suddenly shifted.

After all, Cai Shanjun’s hand still gripped the flute; the most convenient, fastest-moving part of his body—faster even than Meng Daizong’s—was his gaze.

This gaze did not fix on the man, but on the donkey.

Heeiiiiiiiiiiii!

The large-eared, short-shouldered, noisy donkey suddenly reared up and kicked its front hooves straight into Meng Daizong’s shield.

It was just a donkey.

Yet when it kicked, the bray it let out, the power exploding beneath its hooves—

It bore no resemblance to a donkey at all, but to a majestic wild stallion over eight feet tall.

Its hooves, the size of bowls, struck with force enough to shatter a bull’s skull!

Meng Daizong was blasted backward over a meter, leaves shattered underfoot, soil indented.

Cai Shanjun had cultivated the Military School’s arts, and among them, the crucial secret was the “Yù” technique.

After Chu Tianshu had suppressed his poison and the Caiyun Flute had eased its effects, he had regained partial cultivation.

Merely by projecting will through his gaze, he could awaken the donkey’s latent potential and unleash such a strike.

But after this blow, the donkey’s legs bent, its head swayed.

As if it had been grinding for three days and nights straight, on the verge of collapse.

Yet Meng Daizong drew a knife with a sharp *clink* from behind his shield.

Earlier, when closing in on Xiao Hu, the marksman, he had focused entirely on the shield and hadn’t drawn his blade.

Now, blocked by the donkey, he revealed his full skill: shield and blade in perfect tandem.

Even if the donkey took another hit from his shield, it would die instantly—let alone with a knife now in play.

But the moment he drew the blade, the hairs on his nape bristled—he spun around with his fastest motion and thrust the shield outward.

Thoom!!!

Chu Tianshu’s bare palm slammed into the shield, producing a low, heavy sound.

The brute strength of Dragon-Wrapping Body and the penetrating force of Palm Thunder were fused into this single palm strike.

Meng Daizong’s left forearm trembled slightly, neutralizing the penetrating force—but the brute strength numbed his wrist.

More shocking still: in that instant of collision, he saw the corpses of the ninjas scattered behind Chu Tianshu.

The only primary target was Cai Shanjun.

As long as Cai Shanjun died, even if all the ninjas perished, it didn’t matter.

But these ninjas had died far too quickly!

Meng Daizong’s stealth speed should have matched the ninjas’.

Since entering this area, he had launched only two attacks—barely two blinks’ worth of time by his standards.

In that short span, nearly all the ninjas were dead?

Had they died the moment they arrived?!

Shock and fury surged in Meng Daizong’s mind—but his body moved without hesitation.

His abdomen and chest contracted instinctively.

Internal organs surged, the shield retracted then thrust forward, slamming into Chu Tianshu.

Chu Tianshu raised a hand to block—his palm touched the shield, and instantly, it veered sideways as a blade slashed up from below, aimed at his abdomen.

Chu Tianshu’s brows lifted, and he drew back his body.

Against this man, he had no confidence to control the blade’s edge.

The blade’s flash vanished—swallowed by the dark, heavy shield, which now charged forward again.

Meng Daizong advanced low, black shield and white blade flowing like art in his hands.

Shield struck—blade followed.

Blade missed—shield was already in place.

Chu Tianshu retreated continuously, realizing he found not a single opening.

He couldn’t avoid blocking the shield—but the moment he did, he had to dodge the blade the next instant.

The rapid alternation of black and white spun like a two-colored top flashing before his eyes, heart-stopping.

Chu Tianshu had heard Zhong Jinqiu speak of it.

The Chenjiagou Taiji had the spirit of battlefield and peasant life; the battlefield portion evolved into the techniques of sword-and-shield warriors.

Same man who had cultivated the Food Immortal path. Same Taiji.

Yet this man’s fighting style, his murderous intensity, far surpassed Zhong Jinqiu’s.

To defend too long invites defeat. To keep retreating drains all momentum.

He must counterattack!

Chu Tianshu clenched his teeth, exhaled a heavy grunt through his nose, and his belly emitted a low *gurgle*.

The sound wasn’t particularly violent—it was merely the internal organs’ resonance.

But the moment this sound echoed—

Chu Tianshu’s feet sank straight into the ground, without deliberate lifting or stepping.

As if everything around him had suddenly grown weaker, more insubstantial.

His limbs moved in perfect unison, though his feet’s motion was so slight as to be negligible.

Thus, as his ankles sank, both palms thrust forward with maximum force.

The air before him cracked with a *pop*.

Then came the thunderous clash of palm against shield.

Boom-Kaang!!!!

Not the dull thud of before—but a sharp, shattering explosion.

Meng Daizong’s shield had clashed with his opponent many times—he never expected this strike to be so far beyond his estimate.

His left forearm burned with pain, threatening to lose grip of the shield; his whole body felt ready to fly backward.

Palm Thunder was a method that used internal organs as a trigger, mobilizing the entire body, then transmitting force outward.

Chu Tianshu’s previous balance of hardness and softness meant internal organs and limbs generated force simultaneously, two forces flowing together.

But now, he redirected the Palm Thunder’s force at the stage of reaching his own muscles.

The Palm Thunder’s stimulation acted on his own acupoints.

His Dragon-Wrapping Body’s physical constitution absorbed it, then unleashed it.

This technique resembled Ghost Gate Reverse Needle—but achieved purely through martial principles, his bodily control now far beyond his former self.

Faster effect, greater power, smaller side effects!

Chu Tianshu’s palm strike aimed to shatter the shield—or at least slam it back into Meng Daizong’s chest.

But at that moment, Meng Daizong revealed the Taiji’s most essential skill: “Lightning’s Shock, Instant Response.”

Chenjiagou Taiji’s understanding of hardness and softness demanded absolute sensitivity.

Even the flash of lightning must be reacted to instantly.

Though exaggerated, one must imagine it to one hundred and twenty percent to achieve even three percent.

The martial artist must hold this extreme, exaggerated mental image—only then can the body barely approach three percent of its potential.

In the instant the shield recoiled—

Meng Daizong shifted his center backward, channeling all force into his right foot, driving it deep into the earth.

Then his body spun with all the strength he had ever possessed.

Using his right foot as the pivot, he flung the shield, bearing immense force, backward and outward, while flinging the knife in his right hand forward and outward.

Previously, his knife and shield had always been held tight against his body.

Now, he forced his weapons as far away from his body as possible.

An extreme, blindingly fast full rotation.

He could even hear the sound of his right ankle dislocating as the pivot point, and the tendons in his leg tearing under the violent spin.

But it bought him the fastest possible slash, aimed at Chu Tianshu.

Chu Tianshu’s left eye corner was already filled with the silver glow of the blade.

He only had time to catch a glimpse of that flash of light with his peripheral vision.

But his arms had been extended forward all along—his left arm was actually closer to the swing than his head.

Chu Tianshu’s left arm jerked up as if a needle had pierced a nerve, his forearm rising vertically to block.

The silver light had arrived!

Golden light exploded!

The blade’s edge, near the guard, struck Chu Tianshu’s forearm.

Chu Tianshu’s left sleeve shattered instantly, revealing golden light along his forearm.

From his wrist to just below his elbow, it was wrapped in ropes.

Meng Daishao’s cultivation level was actually lower than Chu Tianshu’s.

He had only been able to force Chu Tianshu into constant retreat by exploiting the advantage of his weapon.

But who said Chu Tianshu had no weapon of his own?!

It was a protective rope, woven with iron wire, copper thread, even a trace of gold thread, mixed with fine tendons from mountain grasses, crafted by special methods.

One long rope wrapped one arm, covered in numerous knots, each knot a lump of copper and iron.

Ancient people tied knots to record events, using knots as characters; specific weaves represented different symbols.

The Wu Family Village meticulously crafted these knots into talismans—each rope was a spell.

Chu Tianshu’s Qi surged through his entire body and reached the copper rope talisman.

The moment the blade met the knots, a resonant ring rang out.

The entire blade shattered like ice, breaking into a dozen irregular shards of iron.

Chu Tianshu tilted his head, his gaze unnervingly calm—only a few strands of hair at his temples were severed by the flying fragments.

Meng Daishao lost the balance of his long knife, his right foot pushed beyond its limit, and his whole body toppled sideways.

Like a giant log, he rolled rapidly across the ground.

“Chu Tianshu!!”

From Lin Zi’s direction came a long roar.

A heavily armored general with fire-cloud ear guards was sprinting forward, dragging his blade, but another figure was already dozens of steps ahead.

Zhong Jinqiu and Lao Yu had just finished their opponents and had no time to intercept that faster figure.

Deputy Officer Zhou’s roar was meant to seize the initiative.

If Chu Tianshu so much as reacted, Xu Youjiang would already be there—Meng Daishao would not die.

This battle had evolved to this point.

They were no longer just protecting a special envoy—they were fighting to preserve one of their own top combatants.

Chu Tianshu turned his head to look.

Meng Daishao rolled to the side of a tree, his body stopping—but he made no move.

During his roll, a thick silver needle had pierced the back of his skull.

Straight thrust—pierced the brain!

(End of Chapter)