Chapter 31: A Hundred Martial Arts—This Is Iai!

After haggling, Feng Xue purchased the scroll housing the spirit ghost for 47 guan and 300 wen, taking with him the full set of accessories the shopkeeper had gifted, and left the antique shop named “Moyu Xuan.”

Though he had come to the port city only rarely, Feng Xue had no intention of staying long; though this city felt more real than Pingan County, that very realism made him reluctant to linger.

But night was falling, and returning home meant traveling by road after dark—just as Feng Xue wrestled with whether to ride back to the county under cover of night or simply find a hotel for the evening, someone else made the choice for him—

There was no standard confrontation, no warning clash—only three broad-shouldered men in black suits standing shoulder to shoulder before him, their cold expressions radiating malice that struck instantly.

“You look pretty new around here. Just arrived in the port city?”

A voice, casually spoken yet laced with chill, came from a thin-faced man who appeared scholarly but whose eyes gleamed with malice; he strolled forward with hands in his pockets, striding like a man who owed no one.

No introduction was needed—pedestrians instantly veered away, and the street, previously crowded from evening rush hour, became an isolated island.

“I came to the city on business. I’m leaving now,” Feng Xue said calmly, his fingers lightly tracing his ring; glancing over their heads, he noted the three giants each had around 14,500 years of lifespan remaining, while the middle-aged man’s head bore only six thousand.

“He’s probably not a martial cultivator, but thugs in big cities often carry guns.”

Feng Xue weighed his options, yet still checked whether the lock before his own lifespan remained sealed.

The short-lived middle-aged man showed no surprise at Feng Xue’s answer—or rather, he didn’t care what Feng Xue said; his gaze swept over Feng Xue’s attire and the faint glint of a “gold watch” on his wrist, then he smiled.

“You’ve come to the city only once in a while—why leave so soon? Let me treat you. I’ll show you the true pleasures of the port city.”

“No thanks,” Feng Xue stepped left, as if to sidestep them—but the three giants moved in perfect unison, blocking every possible escape route.

“So you’re planning to rob me outright?” Feng Xue frowned. The man laughed.

“We’re the Port Head Gang inviting you as a guest. If you refuse, you’re disrespecting us. In this world, reputation is everything. You disrespect us, then we…”

“Oh, alright then!” Feng Xue pulled off his ring and tossed it toward the nearest giant—just as the man reached out to catch it, Feng Xue suddenly spoke:

“You look like a road roller!”

“Wha—”

The man, utterly confused by the six-character phrase delivered in a single breath, barely opened his mouth to threaten—when a thunderous crash erupted, smoke billowed, and within moments, the stench of blood spread thick across the street.

The smoke vanished almost instantly—but what the self-proclaimed Port Head Gang member saw next was a large vehicle that had appeared out of nowhere, while his three bodyguards were gone, leaving only pools of blood oozing beneath steel wheels to indicate their fate.

“A hundred martial arts—this is Road Roller Iai!”

“You’re going to die! Can’t you use a cleaner method? This is filthy!”

Liu Yunxi’s clear voice cut through Feng Xue’s words; normally, thugs would have followed that melodious tone to find a girl to flirt with—but now, the thug who had been so confident a moment ago lay slumped on the ground.

Feng Xue pressed his hand against the road roller, eyes narrowing, and suddenly said:

“You look like a Taser!”

The road roller shrank instantly. Feng Xue, having practiced this move countless times, seized the grip—and two electrode needles shot out, sending the thug collapsing to the ground.

“Still trying to play dirty?” Feng Xue bent down, picked up a very old-model pistol, and raised its muzzle toward the thug’s forehead.

The barrel swayed left and right; the thug’s darting eyes pleaded for mercy—but his body, fully paralyzed, gave no response.

Even if he begged, it would mean nothing—because Feng Xue’s swaying muzzle wasn’t hesitating.

He had just discovered another use for his golden finger.

The instant he had thought of throwing the ring, the lifespans above the three giants had begun plummeting—and he had thrown the ring precisely when their lifespans dropped simultaneously.

The result was perfect: the three giants were entirely covered by the road roller, with zero chance of recovery.

This made him realize a problem he had long known but never paid attention to—without using [Ding Tian Ming], lifespan fluctuates.

Illness reduces it; healing restores it—but now it seemed…

“Bang!”

He pulled the trigger, firing a bullet into the thug’s shoulder, causing his body to jerk—his hovering lifespan above his head stabilized.

“So if I don’t shoot when lifespan hits zero, it won’t kill instantly—or rather, because this shot can’t kill instantly, his lifespan didn’t drop to zero?”

Thinking this, Feng Xue fired again—this time, without doubt, the lifespan hovering at 1 froze, then instantly dropped to zero.

He carefully ejected each bullet, tossed the gun onto the ground, ignored the corpse with its skull split open, stepped around the blood and flesh sludge, and murmured:

“You look like a bicycle.”

“Bang!”

A white bicycle appeared before him. Feng Xue pedaled the small pedals and vanished into the bustling city.

If this could’ve turned directly into a motorcycle, the aesthetic would’ve been cooler and the speed much faster—but who could he blame? He’d just crippled Little White Snake!

Little White Snake had only cultivated for three days; even though her power now approached what she’d gained in a full year before, her demonic energy might suffice for a spark or two—but powering a motorcycle ride for dozens of miles? Pure fantasy.

He pedaled hard, following the road back from the port city, swiftly leaving the urban sprawl, his mind turning to what to do next.

Killing wasn’t something he regretted; as a man who’d gambled his nine extra years of lifespan, he’d prepared himself mentally the moment he chose to cross over—but the aftermath was the problem.

Gangs are bloodsuckers. He lacked sufficient power—whether he surrendered or had Little White Snake beat them all, more trouble would follow. Better to eliminate them outright—at least that buys him more reaction time.

But he couldn’t stay in the port city. Pingan County might not be safe either. After a moment’s thought, he made his decision…

As a primordial anti-contradiction holy body, I anticipate someone will say the plot contrivances are too forced, the villains too obvious—but the appearance of these thugs wasn’t coincidence; it was foreshadowed.

Long ago, when I mentioned renting a room, I noted the port city had gangs—though it was just a passing remark.

The real foreshadowing was at the rickshaw stand: three drivers stood up, but after noticing one of them, the other two sat back down—this showed the driver who took the fare had some background, not much, or he wouldn’t be pulling a rickshaw, but enough to deter others from competing for his customers.

That driver saw the protagonist enter the antique shop, and combined with his solitary presence and apparent unfamiliarity with local routes during the ride, concluded he was likely an outsider.

Hence the thugs blocked the road.

In fact, the moment the protagonist chose to hail a rickshaw upon entering the city, encountering thugs was inevitable—and his personality ensured he’d fight back. This wasn’t random; it was highly probable.

Twenty years ago, similar situations existed at train stations and other urban hubs: many rickshaw pullers and taxi drivers were tied to organized crime, and if they spotted a foreigner with money, they’d notify their superiors to rob them—though their methods were subtler: cutting gold chains, staged accidents, classic tactics.

These details are meant for readers to deduce themselves, but given many now refuse to think, and others immediately argue, I’ll explain here to preserve reading experience. After all, this is a minor subplot with no sequel—over-elaborating would only make it feel padded.

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(End of Chapter)