Chapter 26: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bai Lang's figure brought a fetid wind, like a Bengal tiger in Tai Guo—though the man hadn't arrived, the wind and its momentum arrived first. Since the bodyguards and even the leader were armed, some with automatic rifles, Bai Lang had to kill the opponents before they could lay down a crossfire—otherwise, with his skill, escape would be hard.

Bai Lang, like a leaping tiger, swung his palm with the momentum, striking before the guard could swing his barrel—the guard was pulling the trigger at the door panel, only catching a glimpse of something lunging. Bai Lang's palm slammed into the man's side, Internal Force everywhere, turning him into a cannonball that slammed into the guard crowd.

That was pure brute force; with a single palm strike the man's struck spot turned into a clump of rotten flesh, while the force still propelled him outward. Bai Lang had once read in a wuxia novel a palm technique called Fire Transmission Divine Skill, which could easily transmit his Internal Force through multiple people to the target, even hijacking the Internal Force of those serving as "channels" into a devastating wave.

Such a divine skill is still far beyond Bai Lang's reach; for now he merely uses brute force to turn a person into a flesh projectile. Still, it proved effective: the flying dead guard slammed into a guard wielding an automatic rifle, both emitting horrible bone‑breaking cracks before collapsing in a heap— the kinetic energy was spent.

Bai Lang had already killed two, and his footwork did not pause; as his right hand struck, his left hand was already coiled. Closing in on the second, his left Tiger Claw seized a man, tearing the arm off in a spray of blood— at that moment the remaining opponent could not fire, because the man's body happened to block Bai Lang completely.

Bai Lang tipped his toe again, changed direction, and delivered a full‑force kick. The marble floor shattered, shards spraying like shrapnel. The fragments could have busted heads and caused bleeding, but Bai Lang, armed with Golden Bell Shield Divine Skill, felt no pain. The exploding stones made the foes freeze instinctively, prompting reflexive dodges.

Thus their lives were sealed; the barrels that had already turned now halted firing for a brief instant. Bai Lang slipped past the gushing guard, seized two guards with both hands, and with Tiger Claw power ripped and squeezed them in the blink of an eye, turning them into blood‑filled gourds, the kind torn and twisted. The last guard was split in two by a sweeping kick Bai Lang delivered, cutting him at the waist.

Bai Lang straightened, flicked the blood off his hands, yet his movement remained swift as he turned; the leader still clutched a weapon. The guy couldn't keep up, his vision blurred and his wrist throbed, the gun fell, his wrist already a complex fracture. "I ask, you answer." A hand pinned him onto the sofa, and Bai Lang sat opposite the leader.

The crippled man's wail had grown faint; massive blood loss was about to claim his life. Bai Lang needed to know who ordered the killing, who was responsible, and who he should confront to finish this matter. It all depended on whether the current leader would cooperate. This leader was far more mature than the young man, aware that he would surely die, yet the tough‑guy act couldn't hold— Bai Lang's Internal Force coercion technique is almost impossible for a mortal without Internal Force to endure.

After obtaining satisfactory intel, Bai Lang did not torture the leader; he simply smashed his skull with a punch for a clean finish. Likewise, Bai Lang washed his hands in the house, changed clothes, and left— he still needed to buy time, to catch the few decision‑makers responsible before they learned of the change and fled.

"Finally no more interrogation; just cutting the opponent down outright is fine." Bai Lang felt considerably relieved— such affairs are indeed troublesome, yet they also hone one's martial skill; battling firearms at breakneck speed truly trains more than solitary cultivation.

At this moment Bai Lang's understanding of Tiger Form had deepened; the fierce tiger's essence was fully merged into his martial art, so every move resembled a tiger, and his Tiger Claw and tiger‑palm force had progressed further, now bearing a divine resonance. "One hand is Tiger Claw; both hands together become Tiger Mouth…" Bai Lang muttered while moving, gesturing, "Sequential palm strikes plus Tiger Claw tearing… against ordinary people this damage is overwhelming. A single palm can already kill a man."

Anyway, now that he'd arrived, the only ones truly intent on hunting him down were the group's big boss and the head in charge of the dirty work; the others refused to get involved. Those two kept their whereabouts highly secret, but the drug‑head actually knew their trail. "If I can kill both, I'll kill both; if I can only kill one or none, then I'll leave for Myanmar or Laoguo or Yuennan— wherever, I can still practice martial arts."

Bai Lang stopped in front of a concrete building, "A secret, ever‑changing trail is the best survival tool… plus a few close‑protecting bodyguards." Bai Lang felt it was a bit tricky; he didn't know the layout of the house, so it seemed he could only try.

Bai Lang drew his pistol, a PPK he had taken from a dead thug before; there were two AKs with the drug head, but Bai Lang didn't take them— they had been deformed in the fight. The others' guns were unsuitable, at least bulkier, and Bai Lang felt they were hard to conceal.

The PPK's compact size and high accuracy also allowed it to carry many rounds; Bai Lang had at least two dedicated magazines and a total of twenty rounds, "I now have thirty‑four bullets; that should be enough in general." Yet this would test his shooting skill— he had experience in hand‑to‑hand combat, but truly fighting with a gun was new to him.

Bai Lang didn't rush inside; he hid in the shadows, closed his eyes to rest, and mentally simulated the fight. "It's really not easy, but fine, improvise." He lightly tapped the ground, his hand already resting on a ventilation window about three stories up. Supporting his body with one hand, Bai Lang cautiously peered inside.

"A very thick wall…" was the first thing he noticed about the ventilation window's barrier; it seemed poured concrete, unlikely to be broken open with a bare‑handed hammer. Yet after gathering Internal Force into his eyes, even the darkness revealed a faint glimpse, and the room's lights helped. Bai Lang saw a black boxing ring.

Inside the house was a large space, holding fifty or sixty people, men and women alike, all dressed in formal attire or evening wear, apparently waiting for an underground fight to begin. "Can't see those two guys," Bai Lang muttered, he didn't recognize the two leaders; to him, they were the biggest challenge.