Chapter 253

Bai Lang clasped his hands, just standing there looking at the river ahead. As his words fell, a person slowly rose from the river, his head bald and smooth—even water droplets could not cling to it, sliding straight off his scalp as if water repelled him. He hovered there, water still dripping from his body, but in an instant he was dry. The bald man stood on the water's surface as if standing on solid ground.

Bai Lang looked at the bald man, whose slender build and sly visage made him think. "High Shun of the White Stripe in the Waves?" Bai Lang asked. "Quick reflexes. Well then, no need for more talk—I'll borrow your head."

Gao Shun grinned, his ferocity fully exposed, saying, "Today I felt like practicing, never expecting it to be just a rat. I'll skin you and hang your hide on the village gate! Let's see who else dares to cause trouble here!" With that, he shook, and the river water beneath his feet coiled like a horned dragon; even the shallow water, only a few zhang deep, stirred up heaven‑shaking waves. "This martial art ought to be for contending at sea," Bai Lang muttered, but he was not about to tolerate this bandit—his body moved and he lashed out with a claw.

The river water, stirred by the bandit Gao Shun like a flood dragon, revealed claws, teeth, and scales as it lunged at Bai Lang. But with a flash of tiger‑claw brilliance, the water dragon's head and forehalf were torn apart again into scattering spray. "A feint? Mixing false and true?" Bai Lang scoffed, turned his claw into a palm, and met Gao Shun, who followed the water dragon, with a solid palm strike. Indeed, this martial art named after the dragon truly produced a mighty, soaring qi wave like a real dragon.

Especially on the water, the force was amplified—it surged like the Heavenly River pouring down, with a horned dragon baring fangs and claws, seeking to devour and neutralize Bai Lang's palm strike outright. Bai Lang's Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist palm, known as the Southern Dipper Golden Bell Shield, when held horizontally became like a great shield on the battlefield. The condensed qi rested upon it like a metal shield, and it also possessed a rebound force. Yet within the horned‑dragon force it was gradually dissolved, and the rebound force had no effect at all.

The coiling dragon posture excelled at transforming and storing force; Bai Lang grasped it with a single touch. His power then shifted, becoming extreme external martial arts—no need for penetrating dark energy, no need for true qi to enter the body like a blade cutting; instead he simply used his own innate true qi to strengthen his flesh, delivering every claw, punch, and palm with full force, destroying from the outside in.

Stepping on the river, he stirred the vapor, and this force trapped Bai Lang like an overturning sea and river. "This is actually a group‑attack art," Bai Lang noted, as a whirlwind coiled around him, repeatedly colliding with the sudden dragon‑shaped force. He seemed to cope with Gao Shun fine; the pressure was not great—his hard‑qi exterior training was indeed formidable, the opponent dared not let him get close, and long‑range vapor attacks were useless.

This art's force does not wane with distance as long as there is vapor, yet Bai Lang's exterior training, his pervasive gang qi, cannot be penetrated by such long‑range qi—unless fists, feet, or weapons actually clash. Their fighting spirit was fierce; within a radius of a hundred zhang the river water rolled backward, becoming a surging heavenly river. Although Bai Lang had not unfolded his wind domain nor unleashed the full might of the White Tiger Fist, the mere force he carried was already like a gale sweeping the earth, scouring the reeds on the sandbank clean and even stripping a layer of soil.

At this rate the sandbank would likely split apart and sink into the river. "More or less probed enough—today you're unlucky that the Liu brothers didn't come with you..." Bai Lang chuckled, now ready to reveal his true skill—yet it seemed the opponent was doing the same, for Gao Shun, with palms facing down, made a vague grasping motion, and instantly two dragons lifted him into the air.

Bai Lang spread his hands and flicked them; invisible true qi burst from his body, stirring the qi of heaven and earth, and in an instant the clouds and mist within several li were blown apart by the swirling gale. The all‑penetrating wind clashed with the hundreds of horned dragons rising from the river surface—indeed Gao Shun had also revealed his true skill: a wave of his hand sent a hundred dragons soaring. Gao Shun struck with a single palm, and dozens of horned dragons fused into an azure dragon that flew toward Bai Lang amid a long dragon's roar.

The dragon's roar could shake souls and scatter true qi, but from Bai Lang came a tiger's roar, and a huge white tiger phantom, shifting from illusion to substance, leapt and roared to clash with the azure dragon. This was the mutual strangling of Bai Lang's and Gao Shun's qi; nevertheless the destruction was real. The sandbank beneath them truly began to fracture and split, while Bai Lang's whirlwind had gathered dark clouds, and a rotating "typhoon eye" appeared in the sky.

"Southern Dipper Reversal!" Bai Lang raised his palm, and instantly a tornado rose. But once Gao Shun was sucked in, he turned with a slap into a water‑made horned dragon, riding the tornado upward, seemingly unharmed by the wind. "Hmph," Bai Lang grunted, a blade of wind flashed within the tornado and in the blink of an eye shredded the horned dragon into spray. Bai Lang struck downward with his palm; the descending tornado was extremely swift, this time giving Gao Shun no chance to avoid a direct hit.

The river bandit merely paused, appearing unharmed—but Bai Lang could feel his own true qi mixed with wind power seeping into the man's meridians. "If I cannot keep striking, in a single breath he'll disperse this qi!" Bai Lang instantly decided, pulling successive afterimages from behind his body, then vanished entirely into the wind.

When he reappeared, he was already right before Gao Shun and launched a punching thrust.

Gao Shun scattered like water droplets, yet Bai Lang's punch still carried an inward‑coiling gale, as if his fist were sucking in wind. The dispersed Gao Shun instantly reformed, and in his haste he raised a hand to block Bai Lang's punch. Gao Shun gave a muffled grunt—Bai Lang's strike was as powerful as a siege hammer, easy enough to say, but the intrusion of that alien true qi into his body made things troublesome.

Bai Lang turned his fist into a claw, about to seize Gao Shun and fling him away. At that moment, purple lightning flashed in the typhoon's eye, then fragrant blossoms drifted down. Bai Lang let go, leapt backward, turned into wind, and reappeared several zhang away. A white tiger manifested outside him, its shadow mirroring his own, both raising their heads to watch the falling flowers. "Such a fierce killing intent..." Bai Lang muttered.

Petals fell, the horned dragon yielded its head, and Gao Shun stood there as his head silently drifted down. Blood and water spurted from his neck with a hissing sound, rising more than a zhang high. "An Innate Expert dies just like that?" Bai Lang moved his mouth a few times, drew a deep breath, and gazed at the sky.