Chapter 236: Encirclement

Bai Lang is also a tough outer‑sect master, and he immediately launched a thunderous punch at the man; his punch was first enveloped by the Golden Bell Shield, a copper fist with an iron arm, then the Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist turned the strike into a siege‑cone. After the punch landed, Bai Lang felt his hand bones as if they were about to snap, painful.

The force surged like a massive explosion, a huge tremor sweeping all directions—this is the blast formed by ultra‑fast compression of air between the fists. Bai Lang felt his hand go numb, the Golden Bell Shield's energy completely shattered, needing to recover his breath before it could restore. The opponent seemed unscathed—but Bai Lang also seemed fine; whether the other's hand hurts, only he knows.

In short, neither side gave an inch. The man instantly exhaled and let out a second thunderous punch; Bai Lang turned his palm into a battle‑axe, the axe head slashing at the man's shoulder. His other hand gathered Qi to block the man's punch. This second strike was still like a bronze hammer against an iron plate, accompanied by an explosive blast of air; surrounding buildings collapsed, and anyone within a hundred‑plus meters was knocked unconscious.

The arm Bai Lang tried to block failed to fully stop the blow, forcing it backward to slam into his own abdomen, and the protective Golden Bell Shield's aura should have cracked. "What a heavy punch!" Bai Lang shouted, and his other hand's Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist battle‑axe palm struck the opponent's shoulder, where golden light flared as if flesh turned to gold and iron; Bai Lang could only cut in by an inch before being unable to go deeper.

"Refining Qi to turn the body into iron stone?" Bai Lang saw that the spot where the foe was split produced no blood, and he said, "Your skill is so hard! Such Qi‑work!"

Indeed, this is Qi‑work, not merely outer‑gate technique. When Bai Lang's palm sliced into the opponent's flesh, he sensed a peculiar energy flow inside the body. His Internal Force detected something akin to Internal Force circulating—he himself had cultivated outer‑sect divine skills from the outside inward, so his perception was extremely keen.

As for what exactly this is, Bai Lang thought it was a power refined from flesh and blood through arduous training, perhaps a manifestation of potent life force—the vigor of this man's blood‑Qi was something Bai Lang had rarely seen.

The man let out a "Ha!" and a wave of Qi instantly erupted, blasting Bai Lang's palm away. The young master Bai swung his palm and sidestepped a few steps.

"Hmm, pressing on doesn't seem worthwhile!" Bai Lang had already spotted Steam Toilets emerging from both ends of the street, as well as several people dressed in what looked like Daoist robes, whose twisted aura was quite strong. Facing so many foes at once, Bai Lang had no desire to fight head‑on; he had to make a run for it.

But first he had to shake off the guy in front of him.

Bai Lang activated his Lightness Skill, letting his true Qi disperse around him and stir a light breeze. He tipped his toe and slipped away, the chase now a sprint. Yet the man was formidable; as his muscles twitched, the wound Bai Lang had inflicted inexplicably healed, and with a powerful kick that cracked the ground, he leapt into the air and caught up with Bai Lang.

Then the man employed a technique that "steps on the air"; under his strength and Qi, the air seemed to become a solid substance, and amid the explosions he literally trampled the air, pursuing Bai Lang relentlessly. "What impressive external martial art, and that unique bodily blood‑Qi power."

Bai Lang wasn't too worried; although the man looked formidable, his method was rather rigid, not as fluid as Bai Lang's Lightness Skill. Bai ran faster, and as long as he didn't counterattack he wouldn't be dragged. The Steam Toilets ahead couldn't reach the rooftops, so sprinting across the roof was the best option.

However, the few cloaked in Daoist robes waved their hands and unleashed a bizarre attack; it was strange because the twisted energy landed directly on Bai Lang, yet it had no effect—Bai Lang only felt his own blood‑Qi ripple briefly, then nothing happened. The priests, on the other hand, seemed to spit out a mouthful of blood.

The priests' subsequent attacks were useful—such as lightning from the heavens, ice shards on the ground, and those flickering Ghost Soldiers. Bai Lang was unafraid of lightning; his body, though now exposing Internal Force outwardly and thus a bit risky, was still that of a genuine Innate Expert.

The creature chasing him from behind was probably also an "Innate Expert"? In any case it was a monster of equal level, though this world might not label it that way. It seemed, like Bai Lang, unfazed by lightning—its contemptuous gaze showed it also looked down on those priests.

Bai Lang was just a little numb and glowing; because his hair was cut very short, he had no "exploding" hair, so the lightning only gave him a brief jolt. Each strike let the pursuing man get a little closer; if the priests could keep striking Bai Lang with lightning, that man would never catch up.

Yet the priests' own flying speed was too slow; they generated clouds beneath their feet or rode some kind of gourd, moving at a crawling‑cloud pace. Even though their spells could be cast wherever they could see, Bai Lang would soon fling them out of sight.

The heavenly lightning was somewhat useful; the ice was useless, and the Ghost Soldiers, when they neared Bai Lang, shrieked and turned into blue smoke—a martial master's blood‑Qi roars like a furnace, nothing the Ghost Soldiers can withstand. Hearing the man behind mutter curses, Bai Lang only sneered, "You can't catch me!"

Yet ahead, blades flashed like snow and the building shattered. From below, a Steam Toilet rose in a soaring dragon, wielding a naginata. "This thing can even strike a soaring dragon?" Bai Lang halted, but spun his body and slipped past the dragon‑like blade, tossing the toilet behind him.

Then Bai Lang misstepped, narrowly avoiding another blade that fell from the sky like a lightning strike. A Steam Toilet about two men tall dropped beside him, and that brief hesitation allowed the man behind to catch up.

Forced, Bai Lang snapped a claw back at the man before him; the true strength of the Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist lies in its claws. The shirtless man radiated golden light, meeting Bai Lang with both fists. In the blink of an eye they exchanged at least four or five blows, the clanging of metal ringing repeatedly.

Both were bodies refined like steel‑cast iron, and after these exchanges neither suffered serious injury—Bai Lang knew the man before him was ultimately weaker, yet a few casual strikes couldn't finish him, and the Steam Toilets and priests alike closed in, while in the distance a wailing giant could be faintly seen.