Chapter 145: Wandering the Jianghu

These gang members are not as strong as the former Bai Shaobao, but they are far stronger than those so‑called Ba Yala types, especially their fist techniques, weapons, Lightness Skill and internal cultivation have some level. Overall, the average gang members' level is far stronger than that of the Chang Le Sect—there aren't many ambitious Chang Le members like Bai Lang, actually.

How can rural gangs compare with the underworld that occupies Great Yan's main waterways?

And these gang members never expected that the one who leapt down to kill them was actually an Innate Expert. By common reasoning, an Innate Expert can already condense external aura, and seems unlikely to engage in close‑range bare‑handed punching, palm, claw, leg attacks that bleed profusely; he only needs to unleash a bit of aura—shouldn't ordinary gang members just turn and flee?

How can there be such an Innate Expert? Does an Innate Expert even need a façade? How can his fighting style be so crude? How do they know Bai Lang's suffering; doesn't he lack any lofty martial skill—if possible he would also want to learn like Du Gu Feng, standing high and, whoosh, slash out a sword aura that instantly kills seventeen or eighteen people.

That is undoubtedly lofty, far stronger than someone like Bai Lang, and its killing efficiency is probably higher as well. "Alas, actually I think maybe there isn't that big a gap!" Bai Lang gathered his breath and struck with both fists; the aura of Black Tiger Fist instantly coalesced ahead into the illusion of a fierce tiger, lunged straight out for about a zhang before vanishing.

Along this trajectory, three men were torn to pieces, the deck a wreck—this is the disembodied aura of Black Tiger Fist, truly fierce and powerful. "It's still not as flexible as that sword aura and can't showcase my martial skill as well," Bai Lang felt as if he were a swimming pool with the outlet being just a small pipe; the internal‑energy damage output of Black Tiger Fist was still a bit low.

However, under the coverage of innate true‑Qi, Black Tiger Fist's punches, kicks and tiger claws became unstoppable, and his Lightness Skill, Grass Flying, which merged with Black Tiger Fist, also advanced greatly—his form moved like wind, clouds follow the dragon, wind follows the tiger; he used White Tiger Killing‑Qi to guide Black Tiger Fist, truly generating gusts of howling wind as his body moved.

Now this wind can also wound people; whether intentionally or not, Bai Lang's Gang‑Qi infused the wind, swirling up vacuum blades. He swept past two unlucky fellows, and the vacuum blades sliced them—though not severed, only their flesh was cut. Bai Lang's technique is still very crude and cannot unleash his full power.

The flesh bore numerous straight wounds several inches deep; the two guys immediately bled profusely, shrieking in agony as they fell to the ground—almost equivalent to being torn apart by a thousand knives. By then no one was jumping onto the gang; the few Huai Jiang Sect boats turned around and frantically rowed away without saying a word.

Instead, the Great Yan Naval Fleet's warships kept closing in. "Should we jump over and kill? That doesn't seem right; better wait for them to jump over and then kill, that gives us a reason." Bai Lang casually tossed the head he was holding to the side, shedding the blood‑soaked flesh from his hands; his body bore no bloodstains, only the area from his hands to forearms was smeared with blood.

"It's still a bit unfamiliar," Bai Lang muttered, watching the Great Yan Naval ships rush closer with anticipation. Bai Lang decided that even if they didn't rely on the gang, he would fire crossbow bolts and leap over to start killing, "I'm already starving and thirsty, hahahaha."

But the Great Yan Naval seemed smarter; as they approached they shouted from afar, "Which Venerable Master is on board? Thank you, Master, for assisting our troops in killing the bandits!" Without waiting for a reply, they turned the helm and pursued.

Bai Lang was indeed displeased, kicking half a corpse into the water, "Each one is sharper than a monkey!" He scooped water from the river to wash his hands and arms, then signaled the boat captain and the sailors to clean the deck. "Let's go, truly boring!" Bai Lang said, while the boat captain and his crew were already trembling.

Who could have guessed that this talkative passenger was actually an Innate Expert—just the officials' address of "Venerable Master" reveals that this Mr. Bai, though appearing young, is already an Innate Expert. The reason he didn't reveal his identity and hired them on such an "old boat" is probably to conceal his status. Therefore everyone must pretend to know nothing; it would be best if this Innate Expert, who kills so brutally, simply lets them go, and they must not learn too much lest they face a silencing.

In the overly respectful words of the boat captain, this anti‑bandit campaign is a fairly common occurrence. The Huai Jiang waterway spans at least three thousand li of fertile land; various gangs each control their own territories and even collude with certain local powers within Great Yan, as well as with princes. The Great Yan Naval's anti‑bandit actions are not isolated; they often cooperate, and the current situation is most likely an internal conflict among the seventy‑two water strongholds, with one side calling in the Naval for support…

"What does this Waterway Chief actually do? Does he care?" Bai Lang was also curious. The boat captain shook his head, "As long as the Chief receives enough offerings, he won't interfere; as long as the Junshan region faces no threat, he won't intervene—between them, they've never dared to lay a hand on Junshan—the Waterway Chief's domain."

The journey continued without incident—however, on the third day after that battle, a ship approached and someone requested an audience with Bai Lang. "See me? Why? Oh, probably about that matter. Fine, let them come aboard." Bai Lang sat in the second‑floor hall, nodded after the junior servant assigned to the second floor reported it.

The entire second floor comprised a front hall, back hall, main room and left and right wings; Bai Lang sat in the front hall, a faint incense was lit by someone the boat captain sent up. Bai Lang's attire was a plain ancient‑costume swordsman outfit, though he felt it lacked a certain flair—he just didn't know where to find official robes or the like…

Bai Lang's physique has already stretched out; at 1.86 m he still hopes to grow a bit more, though reaching about 1.90 m seems about the limit—perhaps up to 1.9294 m at most—his rapid growth years are over. His beard has also begun to show some development; at least he no longer looks like a youngster just sprouting a beard, showing a hint of maturity—once his beard fully matures, he can properly say, "Sir, I am forty!"

I don't know whether that's pitiful or amusing…

Now his appearance is definitely that of a top‑tier martial artist, heroic and perfectly fitting traditional aesthetics. These past days Bai Lang has been admiring himself in the mirror and thinks he truly was born well; it would be a pity not to shoot some movies. Now he sits in the front hall, holding a cup of tea in a pretentious manner, gently tilting the lid to sweep across the tea leaves, taking a small sip—he timed it precisely as he heard footsteps approaching.