Chapter 691

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The black Hu warrior likewise threw a punch to meet Hu Xiaotian; the two fists collided, and a latent power naturally surged from Hu Xiaotian's dantian, flooding into his left arm and transmitting at astonishing speed to his fist. He heard the clear sound of bones breaking; Hu Xiaotian's full-force punch actually shattered the black Hu warrior's finger bones, and the remaining force traveled up the opponent's arm bones, successively breaking the ulna, radius, and humerus.

Although Hu Xiaotian knew his strength had increased manifold, he had not accurately gauged the power of his strike; this punch shattered the opponent's arm bones into pieces, a power that exceeded his own expectations—"Master! I'm a master now!" Hu Xiaotian used his right arm to shove aside the opponent's saber, then brought the blade down on the opponent's heavenly cap. He did not want to start a massacre, so when the black gold blade landed on the opponent's forehead he slightly turned the angle, striking flat with the blade's side, intending only to knock the opponent out. But as the black gold blade came down, there was a "Boom!"—the black Hu warrior's head exploded like a watermelon.

Hu Xiaotian was dumbfounded; he never expected that even holding back would yield such a result—was it that his strike was too strong, or that this unlucky black Hu warrior's skull was too fragile?

Seeing Hu Xiaotian's strike fell a comrade, the black Hu warriors were terrified, gaping. At that moment Zhou Mo had already charged into their formation, seizing a black Hu warrior like an eagle snatching a chick, and with mighty arms hurled him away; the warrior slammed into a companion who couldn't dodge in time. Both cried out as they crashed to the ground.

Although Zhabian had made full preparations, he still lacked a proper assessment of the formidable strength of Hu Xiaotian and his two companions; in his panicked flight he let out a loud shout, but since he spoke in Hu language, Hu Xiaotian and the others couldn't understand what he meant.

Hu Xiaotian still thought this guy was begging for mercy.

Huo Shengnan in the woods, however, understood Hu language. She frowned slightly and whispered, "Could it be they have reinforcements?"

A black streak of light shot from the eastern woods like lightning into the battlefield; Hu Xiaotian noticed it first and shouted, "Big brother, they have reinforcements—first grab that fat guy!"

Zhou Mo responded with a shout, punching a nearby black Hu warrior and sending him flying. He strode forward in pursuit, quickly closing the distance to Zhabian. Zhabian was terrified out of his wits, frantically whipping his mount, but the beast seemed to suddenly halt; turning, he saw Zhou Mo seize the horse's tail and, with a mighty drag, pull the horse backward instead of forward.

Zhabian raised his right hand. The crossbow bolt hidden in his sleeve aimed at Zhou Mo, but Zhou Mo would not give him such a chance. With a left-hand tug, he ducked beneath the horse's belly. Zhabian's volley of bolts naturally flew wide; looking down, he felt his body suddenly rise as if riding clouds. Zhou Mo actually hoisted him and his mount together, hurling them to the ground like a sandbag; Zhabian's squat, plump body screamed as it flew out, and the mount let out a mournful cry, spraying mud everywhere.

In an instant the black lightning arrived before his eyes; Hu Xiaotian saw clearly that it was a short, thin old man riding a black mastiff. The mastiff was as large as a calf, with a huge skull, eyes gleaming ferociously, a blood-red tongue half a foot long, and astonishing speed. When it was still three zhang from Hu Xiaotian, it raised its forepaws, thrust its hind legs into the ground, and opened its bloody maw to bite him.

Hu Xiaotian swung his black gold blade, tracing an upward arc from left to right; if this strike landed, it would surely cleave the mastiff at the waist.

Before the black gold blade neared the mastiff, a hand like a bird's claw shot out, firmly gripping the blade's edge—it was the short, thin old man, who timely blocked Hu Xiaotian's killing strike.

Having just slain a black Hu warrior with a single blow, Hu Xiaotian was brimming with confidence in his strength, riding a wave of overconfidence. He never expected the short, thin old man to be able to seize his blade barehanded; Hu Xiaotian twisted his wrist, causing the blade to wobble, then thrust it toward the old man's chest.

The short, thin old man's body, however, rose slowly; the mastiff seized the chance to break free from the melee, and the old man seemed to cling to Hu Xiaotian's blade, his bird‑claw‑like right hand gripping the sword's body.

Hu Xiaotian suddenly felt the blade become extraordinarily heavy, bending downward and snapping back; he lifted his leg to kick the old man, who gave a strange, grating laugh, relaxed his arm, and, using the rebound force of the black gold blade, launched himself into the air, rising about three zhang, performing a mid‑air spin like a falcon stooping on a rabbit, and swooping down at Hu Xiaotian. Using the downward momentum, his speed was astonishing, leaving several afterimages in the void.

Hu Xiaotian secretly gasped; his blade speed could not possibly match the opponent's attack speed. In haste he employed the Dog‑Dodging Eighteen Steps, his body twisting like a serpent; the opponent's claws scraped past his chest, and Hu Xiaotian, with exquisite footwork, dodged the deadly strike.

The short, thin old man had an eagle‑like nose and deep‑set eyes; his yellow‑brown eyes flashed with surprise. What amazed him was not Hu Xiaotian's swordsmanship but his footwork. He had thought this grab would rip Hu Xiaotian open, yet he never imagined Hu Xiaotian could evade it with such exquisite steps.

Hu Xiaotian lowered his gaze and saw that a piece of the front of his clothing had been torn, but fortunately his skin was unharmed.

The short, thin old man nodded, stepped forward, and the ground emitted a dull thud; Hu Xiaotian's heart leapt—this slight frame concealed tremendous power.

As Zhou Mo moved forward to seize Zhabian, he suddenly sensed something amiss above; looking up, he saw a brown vulture swooping down like a meteor from beyond the heavens, with an old man in brown robes perched on its back. The old man's beard and hair were white, his deep eyes green—clearly not a native of the Central Plains. When he was still five zhang above the ground, he detached from the vulture and launched an aerial assault on Zhou Mo, his legs lashing out in rapid succession, leaving afterimages everywhere, his legs churning the air, and waves of gusty force surged toward Zhou Mo's face.

Zhou Mo realized that this was the true formidable opponent; he widened his stance slightly into a ordinary horse stance, then threw a punch toward the sky. The myriad afterimages vanished instantly, and Zhou Mo's fist struck the opponent's right foot. The tremendous force from the foot shook Zhou Mo's sturdy frame, and the immense pressure drove his feet into the ground by over an inch.

Zhou Mo certainly had enough confidence to dodge the incoming kick, but he was full of faith in his own ability, and this punch was also meant to probe the opponent's strength.

The brown‑clad old man held the positional advantage and countered with a leg against a fist; despite that, he felt a powerful force rising from his soles as his left leg, drawn back, launched a flying kick straight at Zhou Mo's chin.

Zhou Mo blocked the flying kick with his right palm and stepped back three paces. A sudden gust of wind rushed from behind—it was the vulture silently circling to his rear, then darting forward to peck at his neck. Without even looking, Zhou Mo curved his left elbow backward and struck the vulture's sharp beak.

The vulture, extremely cunning, seeing the interception, immediately reversed course and flew upward. The brown‑clad old man extended his hands from his sleeves—more like claws than hands—his pair of claws black as ink, lunging to seize Zhou Mo's front chest; the sharp nails tore the air, emitting a piercing screech.

Zhou Mo met change with constancy, raising both fists to meet the twin claws; if the opponent dared to clash head‑on, Zhou Mo believed his unbreakable iron fists could shatter the opponent's fingers.

The deafening metallic clang rang out again; the hammer‑to‑hammer clash between Xiong Tianba and Lahana had reached its decisive moment. Originally forced into frantic flailing by Lahana, Xiong Tianba suddenly changed his hammer technique, the great hammer flipping up and down in his hands; his hammer method was now seventy percent similar to Lahana's. Xiong Tianba barely knew any characters, and precisely for that reason he regarded the inscriptions on the hammer as pictures, whereas others saw script; he saw them as a series of pose diagrams. Although Xiong Tianba originally had little confidence, daily observation of the hammer had long made him intimately familiar with the patterns above.

Although his strength was great, he was not versed in hammer technique. Even though he had taken Zhou Mo as a teacher, and Zhou Mo had imparted some martial arts to him, Xiong Tianba was a slow learner—often, after being taught ten moves he could retain only one, which was already an achievement. Moreover, Zhou Mo himself was not skilled with the hammer, so his help in this area was truly limited.

Today, in hammer‑to‑hammer combat with Lahana, after a few moves Xiong Tianba began repeating the techniques he already knew, since his hammer repertoire consisted of only those few. Consequently Lahana, with his varied hammer methods, temporarily gained the upper hand. Yet during the bout Xiong Tianba noticed that some of Lahana's hammer techniques matched the patterns on the great hammer, leading him to infer that those engravings were likely the hammer's own techniques. Xiong Tianba also had his own wit; he guided Lahana to execute all his hammer methods, watching and learning alongside. In fact, those patterns had long been deeply etched in his mind; seeing Lahana perform them before him was like turning the engravings into living images.

Lahana and Xiong Tianba, the longer they fought, the more they felt something was off: this kid's hammer technique was becoming increasingly rich, and moreover the hammer methods he used were exactly the same as Lahana's. Lahana then realized that Xiong Tianba had actually stolen his hammer techniques, and he shouted in outrage, "Wah‑yah‑yah!"

The more Xiong Tianba fought, the happier and more confident he became. After his hammer technique grew familiar, he summoned his divine might and clashed hammer‑to‑hammer with Lahana once more; that blow sent Lahana reeling back several steps, his arms went numb, the skin of his tiger mouth split, and blood dripped from the wound.

Xiong Tianba brimmed with confidence and roared, "Old lady, today let you taste the might of this great hammer!"

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