Chapter 672: The Black Hand

Puff!

Even as Zhang Tiankui retreated instantly, red smoke sprayed across his face.

He was stunned and furious, but just as he moved to act, his whole body went limp, his head spun, his vision blurred, and he stumbled and fell to the ground.

What an potent poison!

A chill surged through Zhang Tiankui's heart; he tried to reach into his robe.

He was an experienced veteran, always carrying antidote pills in his pocket—acquired at great cost from the White Cloud Monastery in the capital—that could temporarily suppress any poison or curse, buying him time to find a skilled physician.

But to his horror, his strength was gone—he couldn't even pull out the pills.

Without hesitation, Zhang Tiankui focused his spirit and held to unity, his spine rigid.

This was his last trump card.

His current achievements stemmed from his innate difference—he'd been born with an unusually strong spine, and an extra tendon.

This was the "Dragon Spine." The physiognomy texts said: "Those with curved, expanded dragon bones wield force capable of lifting a thousand jin, and possess a fierce nature."

As a child, he could not bear the Dragon Spine's power and nearly became a hunchbacked invalid; fortunately, Lu Jinghai returned, found him, and daily used skillful force to push qi and blood through his meridians, then summoned a Daoist physician from the Xuan Gate to purify him with precious herbs, allowing the Dragon Spine to grow properly.

In any martial art, the power of the waist and spine is crucial.

Only with this Dragon Spine could he support his explosive grappling and wrestling techniques.

Moreover, it enabled him to become a cultivator and learn the Divine Strike art.

This "Dragon Spine" concealed Daoist Gangsha qi through a secret method similar to Wang Daoxuan's, reserved solely for critical moments to break stalemates—a life-saving trump card he'd never told anyone.

But the moment he stirred, Lu Jinghai was upon him.

That strange, scaled arm clamped down like an iron vice on his spine.

Piercing pain robbed Zhang Tiankui of all resistance.

"Tiankui…"

Lu Jinghai sighed, one hand gripping Zhang Tiankui's spine, the other patting his shoulder. "When you were twelve, your father took a poisoned arrow meant for me. I've treated you well—why turn against me?"

As he spoke, silence fell outside.

In mere moments, all of Zhang Tiankui's men had been slaughtered by the black-clad figures.

They struck with ruthless precision, moved in flawless coordination, and excelled at ambushes—only three had been wounded.

More importantly, the weapons they carried.

Blades narrow and curved, backs thick yet edges razor-sharp, with grooves along the spine to reduce weight and enhance resilience.

At the Jinmen docks, not only were there the three teachings and nine streams of north and south, but over the years, many foreign traders had come as well.

Zhang Tiankui recognized it: this was a Japanese katana, used by the Japanese pirates pirates.

Seeing this, how could he not understand what had happened?

"Father!"

Zhang Tiankui gritted his teeth: "I'm not loyal, but I only despised Yu Wenhai that bastard—if I truly meant to harm you, why would I have spent these years languishing in the southern city wrestling arena?"

"Plotting for the Nine Cauldrons is a capital crime; allying with outsiders brings eternal shame. Don't let Yu Wenhai deceive you!"

"Deceive?"

Lu Jinghai let out a hollow laugh. "If I hadn't given my consent, Yu Wenhai wouldn't have dared."

"You… why?"

Zhang Tiankui fell silent, unable to believe it.

At that moment, a cold voice came from the courtyard wall.

"Because he's afraid of death!"

"Who?!"

Lu Jinghai's heart jolted; he pulled Zhang Tiankui's throat in front of him as a shield.

The Japanese black-clad figures instantly turned, hands flashing up and down.

Sssss!

A hail of hidden weapons hissed forth.

With clinking and clanging, shuriken and cross-shaped chariot blades embedded thickly in the walls.

"So you were hiding here?"

The ethereal voice sounded again behind them.

The black-clad figures froze in terror, drawing their swords and spinning around.

"Yare!"

Using their waist and abdominal power, they spun—swordlight already flashing as they turned.

Clearly, some unique iaijutsu technique.

But it was too late.

Amidst howling Gang wind, several straw effigies ignited spontaneously; a figure appeared—Li Yan.

Facing the three incoming blades, Li Yan didn't blink.

Clang! Clang!

A dragon's roar rang from his waist.

Two streaks of light, like rivers of radiance, danced above and below.

The three masked Japanese felt a tremendous shock—their weapons shattered.

They were petrified, but before they could retreat, the swordlight pierced their foreheads and passed through the hearts of their comrades behind.

It was Li Yan's Soul-Cutting Flying Knife.

With the Soul-Grabbing Thunder Rope controlling it, within twenty meters it moved as if part of his own limb, like a flying sword.

The Soul-Cutting Flying Knife kills by scattering the soul and dispersing the spirit.

Normally, Li Yan never used it lightly.

First, it served as a final weapon; second, he didn't wish to make things too extreme.

But facing these men, he was more than willing to use it.

Swordlight flashed, blood sprayed.

In the space of a breath, seven or eight masked Japanese lay dead.

Meanwhile, another figure appeared on the wall behind—Lu San.

He swung his arm; steel spikes hissed forth.

Puff! Puff! Puff!

They plunged directly into the backs of several Japanese skulls.

Wolves ahead, tigers behind—the Japanese were utterly terrified.

The few clustered in the center simultaneously pulled pills from their robes and hurled them to the ground.

Boom!

An explosion erupted, thick smoke scattered; the remaining Japanese vanished into the haze.

Li Yan didn't bother chasing them—he turned and strode into the courtyard.

"Lu Jinghai, stop wasting your effort!"

Watching Lu Jinghai try to flee, he said coldly as he walked: "Who taught you the Demon Serpent Immortality Art?"

After Zhang Tiankui left, he used a concealment technique to follow secretly, arriving at this Jade Emperor Pavilion.

Lu Jinghai revealed his scaled arm; the Soul-Tracking Talisman simultaneously detected demonic qi.

After spending time to claim the mission, he'd traced the origin of the demonic qi.

Lu Jinghai cultivated the Demon Serpent Immortality Art, originating from a demon god called "Gui Long."

This demon god was originally a monster from the era of Zhuan Xu, resembling a hornless dragon, skilled in controlling mist and clouds, roaming mountains and rivers, fond of devouring human brains, consuming vast amounts of yao sheng qi, immortal and indestructible—after the War of Enthronement, it was sealed and imprisoned in Luo Feng Mountain.

He now had a rough understanding of the War of Enthronement.

It too was a transformation of human dao.

Not only did the Shang dynasty fall in the mortal realm, but the Great Luo Dao Realm also underwent upheaval.

It involved deep connections to ancient deities and human sacrifice customs.

In short, after that, both mortal sacrifices and the Great Luo Dao Realm changed.

The Demon Serpent Immortality Art is extremely cruel: to cultivate it, one must capture aquatic demon serpents and swallow them alive, then endure many brutal secret methods.

The benefit: it mimics snake molting, allowing repeated rebirths and maintaining bodily vitality.

But the drawbacks are severe.

One must endure extreme agony during molting and regularly consume human brains.

No wonder Lu Jinghai hid here.

With money, he'd bribed the Daoists of the Tai Xuan Zheng Jiao temple stationed at the pavilion, using mundane deities to mask his aura.

Meanwhile, the Jade Emperor Pavilion's proximity to the docks made it convenient for him to consume human brains and dispose of the corpses.

The Jinmen docks were crowded with complex traffic; merchants came and went—when someone vanished, no one noticed.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Hearing Li Yan's words, Lu Jinghai's eyes flickered with panic.

"Don't play dumb!"

Li Yan sneered: "The molting must be unbearable—why hide in the shadows, afraid to face the sun?"

It was already dusk.

The sun sank westward, passing just over the side hall's roof, while Lu Jinghai remained hidden in the shadows.

This, too, is a weakness of the Demon Serpent Longevity Art: within seven days of molting, one must not be exposed to sunlight.

"Shut your mouth, you greenhorn, what do you know?!"

Lu Jinghai had cultivated dark arts; his nature had long twisted. Li Yan had repeatedly exposed his weaknesses, sending him into a frenzy. He roared: "I've spent my life on horseback, earning great merit for this Great Xuan! All I did was play with a few women, and you strip me of my official robes?!"

"The Ying Prince pretends to treat me well, but he only sees me as a dog—summon me when he needs me, dismiss me when he's done!"

"This Great Xuan betrays me! Shenzhou betrays me! Am I not even allowed to live a few more days?!"

Years of pent-up bitterness were released in this moment.

Fine green scales surfaced on his face and neck.

Zhang Tiankui, whose throat he gripped, finally found his chance.

He unleashed the last of the Gangshazhiqi stored in his Dragon Spine, jerked his body violently, then seized Lu Jinghai's arm, bent low, and hurled him aside.

Zhang Tiankui's reputation now surpassed even that of the former Cangzhou wrestling king.

Though born of residual strength, it was brutally fierce.

Swish!

As he collapsed to the ground, Lu Jinghai was flung clear.

"Ahh~"

Barely airborne, Lu Jinghai struck the ground—and the moment sunlight touched him, he let out a piercing scream.

The green scales on his skin smoked black and withered rapidly, peeling off in chunks.

This pain was like being skinned alive.

Lu Jinghai struggled to crawl back into the hall, but sudden pain lanced through his ankles.

Li Yan had stepped forward, driving his blade deep into the blue stone slab, pinning his leg fast.

"Ahh~ Ahh~"

Lu Jinghai thrashed wildly, twisted his arm, and tore his own leg apart—flesh and bone shredded—then crawled toward the hall.

"Young Master Li, please stop!"

Inside the side hall, Zhang Tiankui, weak and collapsed, spoke, his eyes filled with pity and pleading.

Though Lu Jinghai had tried to kill him, he had raised him since childhood; their bond rivaled that of blood father and son.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes but did not press further.

Not because Zhang Tiankui begged.

How many families had Lu Jinghai's Jinghai Gang destroyed? When those people begged, heaven did not hear them.

Likewise, when they fell into his hands, they had no right to feign pity.

In truth, he needed information from Lu Jinghai's mouth.

Lu Jinghai crawled forward with both hands, dragging a long trail of blood behind him.

When he reached the shadow, he collapsed, gasping for breath.

Li Yan followed close behind, stomping hard on his wound, voice cold: "Speak. Who taught you this dark art? Which ancient turtle of the Jianmu hides in the docks among the red-haired devils? And what of the opium?"

"Hah… hah…"

Lu Jinghai's white hair hung loose, gasping, yet he laughed maniacally: "Fuck your grandmother! I won't say a word—kill me if you dare!"

Li Yan narrowed his eyes, spun the Dust-Cutting Blade, and with a wet *thunk*, plunged it into Lu Jinghai's other leg, then dragged him out.

"Ahh! Let me go!"

Remembering the agony of sunlight, Lu Jinghai thrashed again in frenzy.

"Father, speak quickly!"

Zhang Tiankui shouted desperately: "Young Master Li, let me speak to him!"

Li Yan snorted, halted, standing precisely at the line between light and shadow.

Zhang Tiankui shoved the antidote pill into his mouth without care for dignity, forced himself up, and crawled several meters.

Seeing Lu Jinghai's state, grief welled in his chest: "Father, you weren't always like this. You once taught me: stand straight when beaten. You told me you never regretted going to the northern frontier."

"You bragged about how many Wolf Kingdom remnants you killed…"

"Wuwenhai, that bastard—what poison did he feed you?!"

Now that the dark art was broken, Lu Jinghai's eyes had grown dim and unfocused.

Zhang Tiankui's cries seemed to stir his fading reason. Lu Jinghai's lips parted slowly; he gazed at the sky, then whispered: "The one who taught me the secret art… is named Kong Zizai. A merchant from the southern seas. Hiding aboard a red-haired devil's ship at the docks."

"Kong Zizai?"

Li Yan's eyes flashed with killing intent: "What of Yuwenhai? How did you meet him?"

Kong Zizai? Almost certainly the Wretched Scribe Kong Hui.

This Jianmu organization truly conspired with the red-haired devils.

Lu Jinghai was now barely breathing, yet his eyes grew clearer, losing their former darkness and madness.

Hearing Li Yan's question, he hesitated, then spoke: "Yuwenhai is Kong Zizai's disciple. As for how I met him… I cannot say more. Only this: the Peach Banquet in the Capital."

With that, he turned to Zhang Tiankui, grinning a grotesque smile: "You little bastard, do you know why I kept my distance from you?"

"I envied you. Had I possessed such talent, would I have ever mixed with these scum?"

"Back in the northern frontier, had I earned more merit, I wouldn't have…"

His voice cut off. He was dead.

"Father!"

Zhang Tiankui let out a raw, wailing scream.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

He hadn't expected Zhang Tiankui to feel such emotion toward Lu Jinghai.

Leaving this brute in charge would likely mean no cooperation.

The urgent task now: don't let Kong Zizai escape.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

At that moment, several corpses fell from the sky.

They were the escaped Japanese black-clad men—now uncovered, all bald, faces swollen and purple-black.

Long Yan's figure appeared atop the side hall's roof.

Now that the mask was off, the Twelve Zodiacs naturally moved to assist.

"San'er, notify the Commandant's Office: arrest Yuwenhai."

"Go to the docks—arrest Kong Hui!"

Lu San nodded and whistled sharply into the air.

The falcon Liding circled once, then flew east toward the city.

On the opposite rooftop, Sha Lifei lifted his Divine Fire Gun and leapt over the courtyard wall.

The Jinmen Commandant's Office lay in the eastern district. Before Wang Company Commander went to the garrison, he had already used the token left by Tian Battalion Commander to summon all Commandant's Office personnel, ready for action.

As for Li Yan, he had no time to care for the city's chaos.

The Wretched Scribe Kong Hui had laid his plans in Jinmen—likely aiming for the Ji Zhou Cauldron.

Deeper and more treacherous than Lu Sheng or the Ghost King Wang Xuanmo, this man was far more dangerous.

Who knew what horrific scheme he had already set in motion?

Kill him, and all conspiracies would end.

The group strode out the door. The Daoists knocked unconscious along the way had begun to stir.

Seeing Li Yan and the others, they trembled violently and scrambled backward.

Li Yan paid them no mind. Most were fake Daoists hired by Lu Jinghai—only good for burning incense and swindling money. For causing such chaos, whether by Daoist law or imperial statute, they'd regret it for life.

Leaving the Jade Emperor Pavilion, the group headed straight for Sanchahe.

"It's them!"

Suddenly, hundreds surged onto the street.

Each brandished sharp blades, faces twisted with malice, Qinglin Patches hanging from their belts.

"They killed our boss! Whoever avenges him gets ten thousand taels!"

Someone in the crowd shouted excitedly.

The gang members' eyes turned bloodshot; they quickened their pace.

"Old Sha, clear the way!" Li Yan snarled.

He knew these men were sent by Yuwenhai to obstruct and harass.

"Heh heh~"

Sha Lifei grinned savagely, raised his Divine Fire Gun, and pulled the trigger.

They were men forged in mountains of corpses and seas of blood. These Jinmen thugs had picked the wrong targets.

BOOM!

A thunderous blast—blood sprayed, limbs scattered across the street.

"They're killing people!"

Bystanders watching from afar scattered in panic.

The surviving Jinghai Gang thugs wet themselves in terror.

They were cruel and tyrannical—but they'd never seen a living hell-god.

Li Yan and the others didn't bother to respond; they dashed straight for the dock.

"That's the one!"

Li Yan looked ahead—it was the Tulip, the ship they had seen when they first arrived in Jincheng.

But at that moment, a sudden warning flared in his heart.

"Quick, scatter!"

No sooner had he spoken than several cannons on the Tulip began to slowly turn, aiming at the dock…

(End of Chapter)