Chapter 23

This long fist is colloquially called the telephone fist; it is a classical style where one opens the stance and throws a straight punch from rear to front, its concealment is practically nil—it's tantamount to telling your opponent before you strike, "I'm going to hit you," and even where, hence the name telephone fist. Normally, in modern professional combat it basically cannot land on anyone, but now isn't someone advancing with a shield......

This punch slammed into the cowhide shield, using shock force; a single blow left the shield‑bearer's hands numb and wooden, the leather strap holding the shield snapped outright, and the whole person was sent flying backward—but the shield remained in place, effectively blocking—not only Bai Lang but, better yet, cutting off the two knife‑wielders' path.

Then Bai Lang slightly arched his body, leaping out like a tiger, forming a tiger claw with one hand, and with that lunge he ripped out a claw. This is precisely the Tiger Form True Meaning—fusing the person's essence, energy, and spirit into one, like a fierce tiger striking with its claws and tearing.

The knife‑wielding professional boxer was unlucky; the terrain forced him to face Bai Lang alone in this lunge. As a professional athlete, even though a tiger seemed to lunge at him, his instinct still let him raise his knife and thrust, adopting a mutual‑destruction style— the underground professional knife‑fighters here also have ample martial virtue, they're a bunch of tough guys.

Besides, living conditions are harsh; to get ahead you can't be soft, right?

This knife, due to the length of the blade plus the arm, was a bit longer than Bai Lang's arm; by relative speed he should have stabbed Bai Lang first, then Bai Lang's claw would have done something to him. That would have been the case, but Bai Lang's tiger claw became a palm, delivering a slap whose hand‑side force contained thousands of jin, striking the inner side of the knife‑wielder's forearm and, amid the sound of breaking bone, flung his arm outward.

Bent and twisted, the arm looks completely ruined—probably even the best orthopedic surgeon couldn't save it—plus the flesh is mangled; the tiger claw sliced across the arm, carving four deep blood grooves, skin and flesh fully peeled back to the bone.

The next moment, Bai Lang accelerated again, unleashing Grass Flying Lightness Skill to the fullest; in a single step he closed into the knife‑fighter's center, then threw a left punch. This collapsing punch struck the fighter's chest directly, one blow sent him flying. As he flew, blood and fragments of viscera sprayed from his mouth, his chest cavity completely caved in, the bones inside likely turned to mush with lungs and heart, and upon hitting the rear wall it was clear he wouldn't survive.

Afterwards, Bai Lang used the rebound force from that punch to shift direction in an arc and lunge at the other knife‑fighter; this time he simply turned sideways and, using the lunge posture, unleashed a side kick. Naturally, what that knife‑fighter saw was like a tiger having just killed his companion, letting out a tiger roar, then lashing out with a tail like a steel whip.

He couldn't dodge, for he saw a man‑eating tiger; that aura slowed his reaction by a beat, and Bai Lang's leg was longer than his arm, so this side kick shattered his neck and the lower half of his skull; the same force pierced his body, the front caved in while the rear shattered bone, blasting skin and flesh outward.

The shield‑bearer had just fallen on his rear, never expecting his two companions to already be dead. He hadn't decided what to do when a claw seized his face. "Don't cry out; you have five seconds to say who sent you, and where you're to report after completing the mission."

Bai Lang's hand slightly tightened, and the opponent instantly felt pressure—this truly was tiger‑claw kung fu, capable of ripping cement boards like a tiger's claws; a mere human head would surely be in danger. The man's mind raced, so he quickly explained the situation and then begged for mercy. "I guessed as much; since you're so cooperative... please just pass out, I won't kill you, hahaha."

Bai Lang's palm gave a slight tremor, and the man collapsed straight to the ground like mud, still vomiting—cerebral concussion is no joke, but he won't die. The three of them came together, one dead, one alive—pure luck, it seems. Bai Lang tidied up, of course fleeing immediately; as for the aftermath, let the local police handle it.

In China this would be a major case, but in Tai Guo—especially not happening in Bangkok or Chiang Mai and the like, the death of a couple of street brothers is nothing. Bai Lang shouldered his bundle, took a local trishaw, and approached the rendezvous point the lucky one mentioned.

To avoid trouble and, in passing, intimidate that bunch of fools, Bai Lang decided to take out the person in charge of this matter. At a location one street away from the target, he got off the vehicle, walked on foot around the area. "Can't drag things out; by night we can say the other side surely knows something's leaked—I estimate the local police have their people in there. Or better yet, just climb in from the rear and kill them."

Saying done, done, Bai Lang went straight to the rear; with a hand on the wall he was already at the third floor, internal force tightening his muscles throughout, and with a crash he burst through the window here. The window had anti‑theft bars, but the wall and window collapsed together, rendering the bars useless.

The people inside, Bai Lang had already identified them by ear as he came up. So he knew roughly how many were in the room; upon rushing in, he first curled his body into a ball to minimize his profile—these individuals were likely armed with handguns and such. The room held six people: one seated in a chair, three on the sofa, two standing. When the window and wall crashed apart with a bang, only one person managed to draw a pistol; the others froze.

This was the opportunity.

The contracted body suddenly extended, much like a feline; after this extension Bai Lang was already close to the gun‑wielder, and his tiger claw swept down in a tearing motion—no scream—this person's facial skin, neck, and front chest cavity were ripped open, innards spilling out with a clatter, and he collapsed to his knees dead without a sound—from the torn neck, blood sprayed straight onto the ceiling.

Even the Tiger Form within Xingyi isn't this ferocious, let alone the Tiger‑Crane Dual Form. Bai Lang's is basically the Tiger Form True Meaning powered by internal force; a real tiger is no more than this. After felling one person, Bai Lang lunged at the three terrified individuals on the sofa, delivering a horizontal knife‑hand strike combined with rapid iron‑fist blows—in the blink of an eye he took three lives. At that moment, the last standing person finally drew his gun, while the one on the chair had simply slid off and was trembling underneath.