Chapter 34: Chapter Thirty-Five

However, by this time the others' swords had also arrived; Bai Lang twisted his body and in a flash used this person as his meat shield. Immediately flesh and blood flew about—this unlucky fellow, stabbed by Bai Lang's sword, hadn't even had time to die before being torn apart by his own ruthless comrades. Among the flying chunks of corpse, some even gave off a blackened, rotting stench from the hair, undoubtedly having been hacked by poisoned weapons.

Bai Lang naturally got blood on himself too; this attack left a layer of cold sweat on him—this was indeed his first time facing multiple opponents, close-quarters combat with cold-weapon wielding martial artists, where life and death hung in that instant. Instead he felt his whole body burning hot; the urge to fight suddenly turned cold, and with a sense he seemed to know each opponent's exact position, the length and weight of their weapons, the speed of their strikes and contacts, the flow of force along their weapons......

This was a breakthrough in the heat of battle; perhaps this is the true "cheat" hidden in Bai Lang's heart—the "Battle Cheat", like the cheat that a virtual character similar to it might have been called Xiao Feng... but Bai Lang might also be mistaken, an illusion born of pressure. Anyway, whether it's an illusion or a breakthrough of a new kind of person, we'll know in a moment—because the enemy's attack, like mincing dumpling filling, comes again.

These martial artists were roughly on par with Bai Lang; they had internal force but it wasn't very strong, and they couldn't project it externally—internal force merely gave them great strength and lightness, allowing them to unleash the true killing power of techniques that would otherwise be considered flashy without internal force. To Bai Lang, they were already very tough opponents; one-on-one he might fear none, but now five or six of them surrounded him alone, forcing him to squeeze out all his potential to fight.

This battle ignited Bai Lang's fighting spirit; as he sprang from the broken cover, his body instantly elongated—this was another manifestation of his Tiger Form True Meaning, his whole body coiling and extending like a great cat, his spine able to contract and expand, curled up like a ball, extended like a spring. He reached out again, his short sword thrusting straight into the chest‑abdomen of a martial artist; for a moment Bai Lang didn't pull the sword back, he loosened his grip to let the blade lodged in bone slip free, his spine rebounded and he lunged forward.

Although the internal force of the Golden Bell Shield couldn't yet block swords infused with internal force, its damage‑reducing effect was undeniable, and where the Golden Bell Shield's internal force condensed it was somewhat like gold‑iron. Bai Lang's claws, already trained as Tiger Claws, now bolstered by the Golden Bell Shield's internal force, were practically weapons. He lunged at the man wielding a long sword whose technique was smooth and effortless like drawing silk; within the silk a sudden point would pierce, harming ears, eyes, heart, throat—perhaps truly a fine swordsmanship.

Bai Lang didn't have time to linger with this opponent; he simply shielded his eyes with one hand and dove straight into the swordsman's sword circle—the blade sliced his clothes, raked across his body, and even the Golden Bell Shield's internal force couldn't stop it, leaving many wounds. Trading wounds for life, Bai Lang had prepared for this. Charging into the central palace, he let out a tiger roar, his claws ripping out, while he lowered his head slightly to shield his eyes with his forehead—who knows whether this sound will heal them after the mission; infinite flow stories aren't always this kind of treatment.

The human skull's hardest part is the frontal bone; in some cases it can even deflect or stop small‑caliber pistol bullets, and with the Golden Bell Shield's internal force this hardness increases another layer—Bai Lang guessed that sword might not be able to pierce the skull. Moreover, there was no time to wait for the swordsman's move; Bai Lang's pouncing claws brought a fishy wind, faster than a blink, already contacting his body....

The force of this striking grab was likely several thousand catties; a slap on the swordsman's body, before he could be flung back by the impact, instantly turned the palm into a claw that seized him. Using the recoil, the swordsman's entire front rib cage was torn away, Bai Lang's hand dripping with a slab of meat and a rack of ribs.... He then hurled the ribs sideways to block others' view, while he himself used the momentum to lunge forward again.

In close combat there is no weapon more vicious than fists, feet and tiger claws. With Bai Lang's current strength, a hit anywhere breaks bones and severs tendons, a grab anywhere instantly becomes a bloody gourd. But the opponent wasn't giving free hits; in such melee he could likewise injure Bai Lang—this guy only needed to avoid being struck by the poisoned weapon, and elsewhere he could rely on his skin hardened and flesh thickened by the Golden Bell Shield's internal force to block—injury is better than death.

His next target was the man wielding the poisoned sword; against him Bai Lang likewise grabbed the corpse he had just killed as a shield, in the shortest time broke the man's neck and twisted his body into a knot, the price being three slashes to his back, two cuts to his buttocks, and a lash of a soft whip on one shoulder....

When Bai Lang finally, with his own "Perception", had slain them all, he too sat exhausted on a corpse. "I never expected to really break through, and to actually have this 'War God Cheat'—but these wounds...... if luck is bad I might really bleed to death. I should bandage them." From start to finish of the melee, Bai Lang reckoned it took less than two minutes; this high‑intensity slaughter left those people no time to fear or flee, each fighting to the bitter end.

"What's the point of all this? They show up shouting, then swarm us—we don't even know what faction they belong to... but shouting 'Hall Master'—could they be lackeys of whatever target? What's that guy's name?" Bai Lang fumbled with his bandages, his body covered in sword and knife wounds, some down to the bone, but fortunately the Golden Bell Shield's internal force reduced the damage, and by keeping his muscles tightly contracted to staunch the bleeding, the bandaging worked decently.

Anyway, that's all—just wash with water, then wrap layer after layer of cloth tight—this cloth is hard to find, you can only tear a clean‑looking strip from a corpse and wrap it. "It'll definitely get infected..." Bai Lang cursed, yet twelve double‑hours later, with his physique he should be able to hold out—afterwards either he'll be wiped out or he can return, so there's nothing to worry about.

Now that everyone's dead, asking for directions is impossible, and after the bloody battle Bai Lang felt parched; fortunately there was a stream nearby, so he washed himself clean and drank his fill—never mind if there were parasites, it's only for a day. Since he can't tell his bearings, he can only carefully recall what he saw when he first came out, perhaps deducing the right direction—after all, those few corpses at the start looked like they were on guard duty, right?