Chapter 311: Witch

Bai Lang's strike separated him again from the four old monks; both sides stood five or six zhang apart, glaring at each other. From this fight Bai Lang realized he might not be able to defeat the four monks ahead, the key being that the four acted as one, their mutual covering making breakthrough difficult.

That strike just now shows the four holy monks weren't really focused either; they measured Bai Lang's skill against the level of the Evil King when they pursued Shi Zhixuan. After this, though, the four will likely go all out. Bai Lang assesses that no single monk is his match, nor two together, but four together? Oh, he probably can't beat them, yet it would also be very hard for them to take him down.

After all, he is a grand master.

Bai Lang felt his martial arts were roughly at the level of three grand masters, perhaps even higher than the Martial Sovereign Bi Xuan of the Tujue; limited by this world itself, he could only go this far. Refining details and envisioning the future path is what he ought to do in this world.

To be honest, after seeing that so‑called "cheap master," Bai Lang's notion of gathering this world's wondrous skills to stock his "armory" has faded. His teacher, who still behaves like a ruffian despite having entered the palace several times, is in fact an unparalleled expert; letting him leak a bit is enough for Bai Lang to digest and absorb—indeed, it's the polishing whirl of that dark wind inside his body.

Bai Lang only now realized this; the four monks seem unbeatable, and there's still Liaokong watching on the side. He also couldn't be bothered to say more, thinking, "Next time I'll sneak in!" Having decided, he turned and left, not even preparing a harsh word.

A harsh word one can back up at any time is a harsh word; one that can't be backed up is a joke. Bai Lang didn't want to joke, so he simply left—though fighting wouldn't be impossible, he guessed it would turn into rivers of blood, and he didn't know what consequences might follow.

Bai Lang stroked the Yu Yu fish; it had grown warm and moist. By his experience, the energy it had absorbed was probably twenty or thirty percent? Anyway, this thing never follows the rules—maybe it'll be full tomorrow.

Bai Lang turned and left; none of the four great holy monks pursued him—it's rare that this fierce spirit walks away on his own, yet they'd still chase after him to "eliminate evil completely"? He is now a mighty general of the Great Sui, and the realm still belongs to the Great Sui; although Yang Guang is dead, the Great Sui nominally hasn't fallen.

Since they didn't block him, Bai Lang easily returned to Luoyang City—it's no surprise that Li Shimin and his group are gone; that's likely one reason the four monks didn't chase him out, leaving Bai Lang alone.

Actually there ought to be another expert present; Bai Lang sensed a faint sword qi lingering in the rear hermitage, indicating that the escaped Shi Feixuan was also there, merely unwilling to show herself. By the time Bai Lang returned and tried to enter the city, it was already night.

Luoyang City had a curfew; the Jinwu guards only enforced it on festivals like the Lantern Festival—unlike the later Northern Song capital Kaifeng, which never slept. Bai Lang entered the city not through the gate but by scaling the wall, and thanks to his Lightness Skill he left a series of dents on the Luoyang wall.

Bai Lang's Lightness Skill was also hard‑style kung fu—his hands and feet punched straight into the bricks, then he pushed off to rise, speed astonishing, full of the beauty of power. It's a pity no one appreciated it, like a pearl cast into darkness.

Bai Lang jumped down from the city wall and strolled leisurely along the main road—until on the bridge he saw a fairy‑like maiden. She wore white that outshone snow, barefoot, her face absolutely beautiful; Bai Lang thought she surpassed even Wei Zhenzhen. He knew who she was, even if she never gave her name.

Yet Bai Lang merely narrowed his eyes, said nothing, and walked past step by step, pretending the night‑out strolling maiden didn't exist. Women like Wanwan are indeed witches—cruel and ruthless. Bai Lang was just slaughter on the battlefield, killing those without grudges; though the carnage was horribly tragic, it was merely that, and although he didn't treat human life lightly, he was still far inferior to such witches.

Such witches are far more heartless than Bai Lang; although they certainly don't match his numbers or brutality of flesh flying everywhere, many would rather meet Bai Lang than these witches—these witches devour skin, bone, and soul alike.

Bai Lang swaggered over; the barefoot girl lifted her head to look at this big fellow before her, cutely tapping her own cheek with a finger, then her sleeve unfurled like flowing clouds, wrapping toward Bai Lang.

Bai Lang felt a tremendous suction coming from ahead, trying to tilt his body forward—"The psychological effect is pretty strong, but simulating a wind tunnel with one's own true qi? Don't kid me!" He glared, his White Tiger Eye dispelling confusion; how could the Heavenly Demon Skill possibly form a black hole? If it really could, it would have shattered the void long ago.

Basically, it's true qi controlling airflow to create a certain suction, then the Heavenly Demon Skill's bewildering true qi directly pulls the qi‑sensing mechanism, producing a spontaneous tendency to topple—this is a top‑tier Illusion Technique, its delusive power not inferior to that of the Buddhist Sect's old bald monks.

This sect originally came from brothels and Chu establishments; with its long history it naturally specializes in Illusion Technique—when it comes to bewitching hearts and tempting nature, what martial art could be better than Illusion Technique? The Heavenly Demon Strategy in ten volumes, compiled back then, is precisely this supreme Illusion Demon Art.

Though the Buddhist Sect rumors say the Other Transformation Self‑Comfort Heavenly Demon should be even fiercer, Bai Lang idly thought, then extended his palm to catch two long ribbons. The ribbons, infused with Internal Force, were like swords, yet they still couldn't break Bai Lang's gang qi and flesh. Wanwan's skill is surely stronger than the men Li Mi hired, for she almost instantly found the point where Bai Lang's true qi flowed inside his Golden Bell Cover; the ribbons pierced his protective gang qi and struck his palm.

Bai Lang seized the ribbons; his body remained unmoving under the Heavenly Demon Force Field—"No need to roar like a tiger and disturb people's dreams; let me instead show you the sheer force of the Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist!" He snorted coldly, shook both hands. Violent true qi tore the Heavenly Demon Force Field apart like rotten silk, shredding the ribbons into fragments.

"Ah." That was a soft, coquettish cry; Wanwan floated away like the wind, not swept up by the force of Bai Lang's shattered ribbons. "You're really rough." The girl, elf‑like, covered her heart with one hand and spoke in a coquettish tone.

"You owe me for the ribbon." she said. "You'd trade a life for it and still want me to pay for your ribbon? Fine—I'll compensate with your life." Bai Lang's eyebrows twitched up and down.