Chapter 204: and ===GLOSSARY===

Such slaughter, rabbit swift, hawk fast—before others could react, Bai Lang had already unleashed that move again—just realized, one should use it more, use it more to discover shortcomings. This time no need for a small hop; Bai Lang merely turned his body like a whirlwind, vanished, and suddenly reappeared several steps away, as if wind had blown through. "Indeed it is the Wind Killing Diamond Fist Ultimate Secret of the Arhat Benevolent King Fist." Bai Lang didn't pay much attention to the fight in his mind; more importantly, he savored the recent insight.

As for the remaining three, trying to run was already too late. Bai Lang casually threw a punch and palm; they simply couldn't withstand this force, each ending with broken bones and torn tendons, dying in a miserable state. And once the people were dead, those soldiers began shooting arrows and firing guns— the reason their morale didn't collapse was also because their superiors simply despised the 'experts' holding official posts kept by the Zongdu Fu, who had no troops; who would look up to them?

Bows and firearms were still effective at this distance, especially firearms, so Bai Lang flashed his body and jumped into the inn behind him. Lead pellets struck the inn's outer wood, splinters flying, yet they could not penetrate the wood and walls; the same for arrows. Lead pellets could easily pierce wooden boards, but they were useless against walls of packed earth and brick. After a round of gunfire, Bai Lang surged forward again.

Those who came to capture the rebel numbered just over a hundred, of which about half were constables, and only a dozen or so Luying Bing had firearms. Trying to stop Bai Lang's charge was basically impossible. Those martial artists up front were slaughtered like chickens, and the Dutong leading them still sneered, saying those were just martial world strongmen selling strength pills, while the truly reliable were the standing troops. Well, now the rebel who killed those strength-pill sellers has come charging in.

At first the big guy thought he could easily capture the rebel and claim the reward, but the rebel's speed seemed a bit fast? No, the rebel's punches and kicks are like siege cones—shields can't stop them! Not only can't shields stop him, the person himself can't stop him— the rebel strikes people like hitting tofu. A punch shatters them, a palm sweep breaks them, a kick even bends them— and that bent spot is all limp and unpleasant.

In the blink of an eye, those in front holding guns, shields, and knives lay dead all over the ground—they hadn't even had time to run—let alone run, they couldn't even react. The soldiers with guns and bows hadn't yet had their fill of life; upon seeing, their reaction was extremely swift—they dropped their weapons and turned to flee. Even the Dutong in charge of directing the capture spurred his horse and left, leaving the constables to take the blame.

But what kind of people are the constables? They're all sharp as tacks—when things look bad they run faster than the Luying Bing, and each is a slippery ghost, vanishing into every alley like soybeans scattered on the ground.

Bai Lang just smashed through the head of the Qing soldier before him with a palm; gripping it, the area below the skull was instantly scooped out into a mess, the whole face gone, leaving a large hole front and back. The other Qing soldiers and constables had already fled, and Bai Lang had no intention to pursue, so he simply returned to the inn, calling, "Waiter, bring up more hot water."

Bai Lang wouldn't be as weak as the Red Flower Society; he intends to kill officials all the way as he goes—whether good or bad, corrupt or honest, Manchu or Han, he'll kill anyone he sees. By directly shaking one of the foundations of Qing rule over the world, Bai Lang doesn't believe the Qing have so many officials unafraid of death. So later he plans to deal with the Zongdu, and incidentally take care of the Xining Zhifu. As for county magistrates, Bai Lang can't be bothered to pay them any mind...

The situation at the Zongdu Fu was much like his previous official-killing spree: anyway, they just stormed in through the front gate, and upon seeing any middle‑aged or older male they'd give him a whack and kill him. Bai Lang also didn't bother to distinguish officials from unlucky bystanders; after killing everyone he'd then charge the Junying, unleash a wild slaughter—especially the commanders of various troops had to be killed—after that he'd loot the horses, follow the main road into the pass, and then see which way to go south.

Bai Lang's actions stirred up a tremendous wave; memorials flew like snowflakes toward Beijing after his killing spree of officials, and these official posts were left vacant in droves. Ahead of Bai Lang, many even abandoned their posts and fled—most of them Manchu officials. On the contrary, quite a few Han officials held their posts, which Bai Lang found rather laughable. Now he is in the yamen of a certain Zhifu; when the constables' sturdy squad saw Bai Lang they had already fled empty‑handed, leaving only a trembling Zhifu Lao Ye who still insisted on standing before him.

At this point Bai Lang was not only the number‑one rebel under heaven, but also the number‑one fierce general; who let him travel alone and horse‑back, slaughtering the stationed Luying Bing as easily as cutting grass? Usually it's just a roar, then a casual charge to snatch away the firearms, then he rushes in and kills a dozen or so; afterward the whole camp of Luying Bing scatters in disorder, the slow superiors lose their heads—then the law doesn't punish the many, and the remaining veteran scoundrels have nothing to fear.

Now it has come to this: upon seeing Bai Lang—seeing his heroic, sturdy face and big beard—the Qing soldiers who run are of middle courage; those who let Bai Lang charge in before they run are of upper courage; those who flee at the mere news of his arrival are of lower courage. One man's prestige has reached this point. If you were to mass heavy troops, Bai Lang's movements would be too lively to pin down.

The Zhifu Lao Ye originally wanted to speak, wondering whether such a rebel could be pacified—but looking at Bai Lang's hair and attire, the Zhifu couldn't utter a word—he himself wore a pig‑tail, and before Bai Lang's full head of short hair he had little to say; of course, if Bai Lang had tied his hair up then, there would be nothing left to say. "Officials who serve the Tatars deserve to die today," Bai Lang casually remarked, then stepped forward to take the Zhifu's life.

That Zhifu merely covered his face with his sleeve, seeming a bit ashamed—because Bai Lang's slogan is also simple, known throughout the world: "Expel the Tatars, restore China!"

Bai Lang threw a punch to take the Zhifu's life, but a chill ran through the hair on his back—someone was thrusting a sword at him. "Too late." Bai Lang's punch slammed the Zhifu Lao Ye onto the wall, and he turned to brace the sword with one hand. Yet as he reached to grip the blade firmly, the sword technique suddenly withdrew. A middle‑aged man in military attire stood before Bai Lang—not only him, but several men and women were outside, vaguely surrounding Bai Lang.

"Hmm... Huoshou Panguan Zhang Zhaochong?" Bai Lang thought, it seemed that in this world the only expert of this age was him; as for the others, they were probably just trash. "Exactly, I am the one who received the imperial edict to capture the rebel Bai Lang!" the middle‑aged man said, and thrust his sword forward. "Give back my father's life!" a girl also brandished her sword, used light‑body skill to circle to the side and attack. The others scattered, attacking Bai Lang from all sides—this number‑one rebel and fierce general under heaven has such high martial arts that everyone knows it, so they no longer bother with any martial world etiquette.