Chapter 68: Chapter Twenty-Seven [Strike First to Gain the Advantage] (Part 1)

Hu Xiaotian watched the monk struggling on the ground and felt somewhat reluctant; he sighed, silently thinking, "Sin, sin." I originally didn't want to kill you, but it's either you die or I perish—being merciful to an enemy is cruelty to oneself. He glanced at the blade hidden between his fingers; if not for this surgical blade concealed in his fingertips, he would likely have died at the monk's hands today.

He drew two long breaths; although the commotion on their side was loud, it seemingly didn't alarm the other monks in the temple. Thunder and lightning, the raging wind provided the best cover for this slaughter.

Thinking of Murong Feiyan being taken away by those two wicked monks, Hu Xiaotian dared not delay in the slightest. The lame monk Wu Xing had already had someone bring Murong Feiyan to his chambers; from Wu Xing's words it was clear this bald donkey was completely a lecherous monk. Thinking of this, Hu Xiaotian felt anxious as if on fire—if Murong Feiyan's purity were ruined by this lecherous monk, wouldn't he be left with lifelong regret?

He returned along the original route. Although he didn't know where the lecherous monk's chambers were, by common sense it should be in the rear courtyard. When the monks had carried him over earlier, he had quietly observed the incoming route, remembering several landmarks. Thus, despite the heavy rain, Hu Xiaotian did not lose his way, winding his way to the vicinity of the side hall, where faint voices could be heard ahead.

Hu Xiaotian hurriedly pressed himself against the wall base, inching along it. Amid the wind and rain he heard Wu Xing's voice say: "Old Four, go see why those two haven't come back yet."

The monk called Old Four responded with an acknowledgement.

Wu Xing laughed again and said, "I'm heading back to my room first."

Old Four said, "Big Brother, you said you'd look after the brothers…" His words were full of lewd intent.

Wu Xing said, "Don't worry, we're all brothers; I'll never forget your kindness. I'll take the first pot of meat, you guys wait for the leftovers…"

The two laughed together, and Hu Xiaotian silently cursed, "You lot with such morals also want meat? The meat is mine—don't even dream of getting any of the soup."

Wu Xing said, "By the way, don't worry about those two—first move the horses and luggage to the rear and hide them. After I'm done, come back and we'll tally our spoils."

"Yes!"

The lame monk, crutch in hand, went off with a thud-thud-thud.

Hu Xiaotian didn't immediately follow him; instead, he sneaked to the wall corner, looked up, and saw the young monk wearing a monk's hat and bamboo hat heading toward the side hall's corridor to lead the horse. Meanwhile, the lame monk had already exited the right-side courtyard gate.

The young monk led the horse, grumbling about something, and as he passed Hu Xiaotian, a low thunderclap rang out. Hu Xiaotian took advantage of the thunder's cover, burst from the shadows, clapped a hand over the young monk's mouth from behind, then raised his dagger and stabbed fiercely into the monk's chest. Having already killed two wicked monks in succession, his strike was now much more practiced and composed.

The young monk didn't even utter a sound before Hu Xiaotian took his life. Gazing at the man's terrified expression as he died, Hu Xiaotian's heart also trembled. Previously he had wielded a blade only to save lives, but now he was forced to kill; in such a situation there truly is no choice—if you don't kill, you will die at another's hand, leaving no room for mercy.

After stabbing the young monk to death, the fine horse let out a neigh. This horse was precisely Hu Xiaotian's mount, Snowflake Grey. Seeing its master before it, the horse immediately calmed, affectionately rubbing its head against Hu Xiaotian's waist. He patted its mane and whispered, "Be good, stay here quietly waiting for me—I'll be right back."

He followed the lame monk's steps toward the right-side courtyard gate, but after two steps he remembered something, turned back, quickly stripped the young monk's clothes, took off his own bloodstained robe, swiftly donned the monk's robe, and picked up the bamboo hat from the ground. His build already closely resembled that of the dead monk, making this disguise truly hard to tell apart.

Hu Xiaotian's idea to don the monk's robe arose because of the lame monk. Since all three monks kept calling him "Big Brother," the lame lecherous monk must possess exceptional ability, perhaps even harder to deal with than the other three combined. If he simply charged in like this, he feared he wouldn't be able to rescue Murong Feiyan and might instead fall into the monk's hands himself.

Having changed clothes, Hu Xiaotian swiftly exited the right-side courtyard gate and saw a figure limping toward the lit chambers ahead—yet it was still the lame monk, who had not yet arrived.

He felt secretly pleased—the lame monk's legs were clearly not nimble; still not having reached the chambers, Murong Feiyan must be unharmed. He took two quick steps, intending to shout "Big Brother" to draw the lame monk's attention, but at the last moment changed his mind, let out a miserable cry, and flung himself to the ground.

Hu Xiaotian's mind was meticulous; if he called out "Big Brother," his accent might give him away, and besides, the rain had lessened somewhat—getting too close would surely expose him. Since the lame monk was the leader of these wicked monks, he undoubtedly possessed extraordinary skills. Hu Xiaotian first stabbed the young monk to death, then disguised himself as him and fell to the ground.

At first glance Hu Xiaotian's maneuver seemed extremely risky, but upon reflection it was actually the cleverest approach—he wore the monk's robe and bamboo hat; even if he fell, he subtly adjusted the hat with his hand, coincidentally covering the back of his head, thus concealing his hair, the biggest giveaway.

Hu Xiaotian's recent miserable cry was heart-rending; Wu Xing saw him collapse on the wet blue-brick ground, assumed it was his brother, and hurried back leaning on his crutch.

Hu Xiaotian heard the thud-thud-thud drawing nearer, his heart tensing to the extreme. His right hand pressed beneath him, gripping the dagger tightly—today's success or failure hinged on this single move; if the action failed, it would mean total defeat.

Wu Xing exclaimed in alarm, "Old Four, Old Four! What happened to you?"

Hu Xiaotian remained silent. Wu Xing approached him, but this monk was extremely wary; he did not get too close, instead standing on one leg three feet away, raising his crutch in his right hand and first brushing aside the bamboo hat covering Hu Xiaotian's back of the head. Naturally, this was related to his leg disability making it inconvenient to bend over.

Hu Xiaotian had already considered every possible outcome, yet the thing he worried about still occurred. This monk was excessively vigilant; the instant Wu Xing used his crutch to lift the bamboo hat from Hu Xiaotian's head, Hu Xiaotian lunged forward with his whole body, driving the dagger into the monk's left leg. He had previously calculated that if the monk drew near, he would surge up to stab, catching him off guard—since Hu Xiaotian lay prone, the easiest target was the monk's lower body, and the monk had only one left leg; disabling it would deprive him of mobility.

Hu Xiaotian had everything figured out to his liking, aiming to strike the target in the shortest possible time.

Although Wu Xing was somewhat wary, he still failed to realize that the monk prostrate on the ground was Hu Xiaotian in disguise; before he could clear the bamboo hat to see the face beneath, Hu Xiaotian pounced like a tiger.

At such close range, even if Wu Xing's martial arts were not weak, he could not react in time; the dagger plunged deep into his thigh.

Wu Xing grunted in pain, raised his crutch, and brought it down hard on Hu Xiaotian's occiput—if it landed, it would surely cause a skull-shattering blow. Though Hu Xiaotian's martial prowess was lacking, he had considered everything meticulously; before executing his first plan he had already prepared the next move. After the dagger hit its mark, he immediately rolled to the left—this timely roll let him escape death. He had originally intended to pull the dagger out and take it with him, but the blade had sunk too deep into the flesh, and at once he could not withdraw it as wished.

The crutch struck the blue-brick ground where Hu Xiaotian had just been; the bricks shattered instantly, fragments scattering everywhere, many striking Hu Xiaotian's body—quite painful, showing the monk's formidable arm strength.

Hu Xiaotian's ruthlessness matched that of a professional assassin; the dagger pierced deep into Wu Xing's left leg, sinking deep into the flesh. Wu Xing originally had a disabled right leg, and now his left leg was also wounded, naturally hindering his movement. He gritted his teeth, gripped the dagger's hilt, and with a mighty heave pulled the bloodied blade from his body. His cold, angry eyes fixed on Hu Xiaotian as he leaned on his crutch, both legs bleeding steadily, stepping closer.

Relying on his two legs for unimpeded movement, Hu Xiaotian turned and fled toward the front steps, shouting as he ran, "Dead bald donkey, if you've got the guts, come chase me!" He deliberately used provocation to lure Wu Xing into pursuit; the more Wu Xing exerted himself, the worse his bleeding wound would become.

Wu Xing raised the dagger in his hand, let out a fierce roar, and hurled it with all his might at Hu Xiaotian. The thrown dagger was like a released bow or crossbow, whistling sharply as it tore through the rain and ripped the dark night, heading straight for Hu Xiaotian's chest.

Seeing the dagger come at such speed, Hu Xiaotian was startled and fell flat with a thud; fortunately he dropped in time, and the dagger flew past overhead, embedding itself in the old locust tree behind him.

Hu Xiaotian broke out in a cold sweat; looking again, the dagger had sunk entirely into the locust tree's trunk, only the tip of a red silk tassel remaining outside. This wicked monk's arm strength was truly formidable—as the saying goes, 'use it or lose it'; since his lower body was lacking, his upper body was all the more powerful.

Hu Xiaotian quickly rose from the ground, watching Wu Xing struggle to move in the rain, and figured he couldn't catch up. He sneered, "Old bald donkey, you actually dare to throw a dagger at me! Damn it! Do you know that dagger was poisoned by me? You dare to shoot me—if I suffer any mishap, you'll have to die with me!" In fact he had not poisoned the dagger; he was merely bluffing to intimidate the wicked monk.

Wu Xing gritted his teeth and snarled, "You little beast, today I will surely flay you and tear out your tendons to quell my hatred." Yet deep down he felt a chill.

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