Chapter 78: Stick, Knife, Sword

In this area, it’s rare for a single company to occupy multiple large buildings.

Many companies are lucky just to rent half a floor.

In a complex like this, several buildings each serve different purposes and are rented or sold to different people—it’s common.

Mr. Yin and his group usually operate in the building on the west side of the main road; this was their first time entering this three-story, especially lavish event hall.

And they entered through the south entrance of the event hall.

Naturally, they didn’t know that early that morning, a group of distinguished guests had already arrived at the north entrance.

They were VIPs attending a gambling skills competition on the second floor.

Inside the gilded hall sat twelve casino owners, each accompanied by personal bodyguards.

They had come full of ambition, aiming to seize competitors’ assets and challenge the Gambling King.

But now, they were all drenched in sweat, their bodyguards utterly lifeless.

Some propped themselves up with both hands on the table to avoid collapsing.

Others slumped back in their chairs, pale-faced, gasping as if they had only breath to exhale, none to inhale.

“Xia Houwei, what trick did you use?”

A muscular woman covered in tattoos gripped her wine cup, “We were careful with every drink and bite—you couldn’t have poisoned us.”

A blue-eyed mixed-race man in a suit stood beside the gambling table: “Because this isn’t poison—it’s resentment.”

“The vessel of this resentment gathers beneath your feet. The soundproofing is excellent, and you were all focused on gambling—you didn’t notice.”

“Originally, only a small portion of this resentment targeted you, but under the ritual’s influence, all of it will crush over you.”

Xia Houwei spoke calmly, “Resist as hard as you can—the more you resist, the faster your mental cultivation will be washed away by this resentment.”

“In the end, your souls will become essential ingredients in this grand sacrifice—like salt on roasted meat.”

Hong Ying clutched his chest with one hand and gripped the table with the other, sweat pouring down: “You—you’re a cultist of evil spirits.”

“I won’t accept this—I haven’t challenged Nie Longding yet, I haven’t become the Gambling King…”

Xia Houwei’s tone shifted: “Do you even deserve to challenge him?”

“What have you all been studying—gambling skills, or cheating techniques? When did it become the only standard to outwit each other in gambling?”

Xia Houwei’s face showed reverence: “Father said he once strayed, but eventually understood the true essence of gambling—he hasn’t cheated in over ten years.”

“The true heart of gambling lies in speculation—from a single table, the fate of a family or village, to the rise and fall of entire eras.”

“You’re fortunate today—to experience the essence of gambling as sacrificial offerings.”

Everyone stared in shock: “Is this… all because of Nie Longding?”

BOOM!!!

Everyone felt a violent tremor beneath their feet.

The massive solid wood table was shattered by a conical object surging upward.

Concrete shards and wood fragments flew into the air, slamming into the ceiling and scattering everywhere.

The twelve men seated around the table, already at their limit, were thrown backward, rolling like tumbleweeds.

Hong Ying caught a glimpse of a familiar face before his body hit the wall corner and he passed out.

Chu Tianshu blasted a hole through the floor, stepped off the edge with his back foot, and surged forward onto the solid floor above.

Xia Houwei retreated rapidly, drawing two short knives from behind his waist, staring in shock and fury at the intruder.

“You’re the mastermind behind—”

Before Chu Tianshu finished speaking, his gaze involuntarily lifted.

Though lavish, this hall was far smaller than the venue below.

Here, the resentment had merged with additional mental energy, becoming more organized.

So Chu Tianshu saw at a glance that these energies were still flowing upward.

“There’s another floor?!”

Chu Tianshu almost laughed in anger.

“You cultist lunatics, using your own countrymen as sacrifices—and you need even more layers so the evil spirit can savor them better?”

Before he finished speaking, he lunged forward.

This strike was wide and sweeping—a direct downward slash.

Xia Houwei crouched low, as if to dodge sideways, while both hands thrust upward, blades angled up.

This man used a style close to dual short staves—short, explosive power, usually striking with the blade tips.

In short staff techniques, there’s a saying: “No double strike.” It’s a supreme defensive maneuver.

Both staff ends strike the opponent’s weapon simultaneously—one hand absorbs the force, the other exploits the opening to pierce through.

Xia Houwei’s movements were slightly slower than Chu Tianshu’s.

Yet he conserved his strength and precisely used one knife to block the guard of Chu Tianshu’s long sword, while the other knife “pushed” toward Chu Tianshu’s arm.

Chu Tianshu’s motion didn’t change—his arm suddenly shortened by a great deal.

As if his arm had been elastic all along, stretched out when he swung the sword, now naturally retracting.

Tong Bei Quan means “back passage”—it allows one arm to retract into the back, sliding into the other arm’s skin, making one arm extremely short, the other extremely long.

Thus, this fist style includes both long-arm and retracted-arm techniques.

In that instant of lightning speed, he retracted.

Xia Houwei’s forward knife stabbed into Chu Tianshu’s forearm—shattered instantly by the iron-charm copper rope wrapped around it.

If his knife had been of better quality, it wouldn’t have shattered—it would have slid away under the shockwave.

But regardless, Chu Tianshu used this contact to redirect his arm in a sweeping motion.

SWISH!!

The blade swept across—Xia Houwei’s head flew into the air, spurting blood.

Killing such an opponent didn’t even require the stored mental energy in the sword.

Whether he used it or not, it was still a one-second affair.

Chu Tianshu bent his arm slightly, sword tip pointing upward, ready to replicate his method of breaking through the floor again.

Suddenly, he frowned slightly and stepped two paces sideways.

The ceiling showed no anomaly except for a few splatters of blood.

Chu Tianshu stared at the ceiling, then moved three more steps forward.

His Insight ability gave him a distinct sensation—the Three Seven Divine Sword sharpened his perception.

To the naked eye, the ceiling was impenetrable.

But in his inner vision, he saw a figure above, holding a weapon, moving at the same rhythm.

The difference: Chu Tianshu’s sword pointed up—the other’s weapon pointed down.

The third floor had elegant, plain white decor, with a few potted plants along the edges.

A three-tiered concentric circular altar, made of white ceramic tiles and concrete, stood in the northern part of this floor.

On the altar sat Liu Tianxu’s head-and-infant-body statue, with Wang Zifang standing beside it.

Around the altar sat nearly twenty others, all half-dead, unconscious.

Rough stitching marked their wrists.

Nie Longding stood about twenty meters from the altar, eyes fixed below, his sandalwood staff subtly adjusting direction.

Wang Zifang whispered: “Master, what’s going on?”

“Someone’s breaking up from below—a troublesome one.”

Liu Tianxu’s voice was also low: “Didn’t you hear that sound just now?”

“He smashed straight through the barrier between the first and second floors.”

Wang Zifang hurriedly said: “If someone found us, what do we do?”

“Panicking won’t help—this area is already covered by the Overflow Zone; few will get in.”

Liu Tianxu exuded seasoned calm: “The ritual is already active. Unless they come here to destroy the altar, killing anyone below is meaningless.”

“Hehehe, this is the first time of the new era—Long Hua Shangshen will protect us!”

Nie Longding, hearing the conversation behind him, twitched his white eyebrows slightly, annoyed.

He didn’t worship Long Hua Shangshen.

He spent two years preparing outstanding children he secretly adopted as universal offerings, then chose a spirit to sacrifice to.

Such a spirit needed a channel to communicate with the real world, couldn’t be too weak, and needed some reputation.

After much deliberation, Nie Longding chose Long Hua—but learned another fact from Liu Tianxu.

The larger the sacrifice to spirits of the spirit realm, the more spiritual impurities accompany the spirit’s power granted.

Aside from the offerings and auxiliary ingredients.

You also need a group positioned as filters to absorb those spiritual impurities—they lose their sanity but become excellent puppets.

Liu Tianxu dared to strike during the imperial officials’ tomb visit because he had accumulated a large number of such fearless puppets.

That’s why Nie Longding targeted Scarface.

After all, acting last night and starting the sacrifice today was quick enough—perfectly safe.

Unexpectedly, someone still came to disrupt it.

The two children below…

Beneath Nie Longding’s thick brows, murderous intent swelled—he shifted half a meter.

A chilling perception locked onto the person below.

Chu Tianshu looked up, motionless, his arm shifting right, the sword tip still pointing upward.

From the large hole behind, several young figures in black suits leapt up one after another.

“What’s wrong?”

The leader had just asked, but then seemed to sense something and fell silent.

The most widely spread and renowned fist style along the southeastern coast is Hong Quan.

These six men were all elite practitioners selected from the Hong Quan lineage, specially assigned to protect Shen Yuntai, proficient in firearms, driving, and security, battle-hardened veterans.

Even if their perception wasn’t as sharp as Chu Tianshu’s.

From Chu Tianshu’s demeanor, they could guess the general situation by experience alone.

The six exchanged glances, then simultaneously drew two-section short staves from behind their backs and twisted them together.

They spun the staves into a flourish, each end extending into segments that locked firmly in place.

Six specially made Qimei staves now rested in their hands.

The men moved to Chu Tianshu’s side, deliberately leaving one position open.

Chu Tianshu sensed it, stepped sideways, and slipped into the vacant spot.

The seven moved in a circle, like riders passing a scene.

Suddenly, one black-clad man entered the center position; a second later, he swapped places with another black-clad man.

Chu Tianshu kept circling; by the time he completed half a lap, he saw the man in the center change positions at least four times.

He suppressed his aura, kept his gaze calm, indistinguishable from the surrounding black-clad men.

The seven suddenly scattered, expanding with identical strides.

The six men looked at Chu Tianshu with admiration for his quick adaptability.

Yet Chu Tianshu harbored a slight doubt.

Even if they could temporarily keep the man above indecisive.

But when Chu Tianshu struck the floor with the Sanqi Divine Sword, the other six couldn’t produce such a massive disturbance.

Should they abandon attacking the floor?

Yet the man above had extremely keen perception and posed a grave threat; any other method of ascent would still force them to face his initiative.

As Chu Tianshu thought this, he saw the black-clad man directly opposite him flick his staff tip.

The force of that strike was heavy and thick.

The Hong family’s Qimei staff technique is also called Menqi Staff.

Because when performed, the staff wind flares like a giant banner, possessing a unique “sweeping and smashing force.”

The black-clad man’s flick of the staff tip seemed to coil a thick mass of viscous air around its tip and smash it upward.

BOOM!!!

The staff struck the ceiling, leaving only cracks.

Yet purely by sound, it was no less powerful than Chu Tianshu’s earlier sword strike.

Chu Tianshu felt the man above shift half a step toward that spot, then abruptly turn back.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three black-clad men flicked their staves upward simultaneously.

Chu Tianshu’s eyes gleamed; he channeled his sword and rose abruptly.

In the instant he rose, two more black-clad men flicked their staves upward.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!

Nie Longding heard several thunderous impacts overlapping; his fierce, icy gaze snapped, and his left hand shot upward.

Dozens of sharp rays shot from his palm, turning colorless mid-flight, striking different positions.

The instant Chu Tianshu broke through the floor, debris of steel rebar and concrete around him was still moving outward.

A blade of invisible sharpness reached his chest.

Chu Tianshu’s figure surged; in a flash, he kicked the edge of the hole and slashed through it with his sword.

Nie Longding’s focus locked onto him; he swung his staff with such force that the staff bent into an arc as it tore through the air.

THUD!!

The wooden sword and wooden staff collided, shards flying, each rebounding.

The wooden staff shattered, revealing a long blade within.

The wooden sword’s surface glowed, taking on a hard, smooth luster, like crystal or metal.

Blade and sword instantly shifted direction and clashed again, edges meeting head-on.

CLANG!!!

Veins bulged on Nie Longding’s knuckles as he gripped the blade; his entire bearing radiated a sharp, intimidating aura, utterly unlike that of an old man.

His eyes flickered—he spotted the colorless plaque embedded diagonally across Chu Tianshu’s chest and abdomen.

(End of Chapter)