Forge a path to success

Dragon Township Boxing Techniques - Immovable.

In the instant before the blow, Chu Hengkong shifted an inch to protect his vitals. The powerful force from the rock blade was transmitted through his twisting muscles, converging on the simultaneously retracting tentacles. Amidst splattering blood, Chu Hengkong bent down and swung his blade, a resolute strike breaking through the suit-clad man's defenses and cleaving Du Muyan's abdomen!

This was a tactic of exchanging injury for injury; both sides knew that a prolonged battle would not yield a victor, so they both entrusted their lives to the blade. Du Muyan tightened his abdominal muscles to seal the wound, and he swung a very small slash at Chu Hengkong's wrist. Chu Hengkong alertly withdrew his hand to defend, but Du Muyan's sword merely brushed through the air before smoothly returning to its sheath.

This was a feint to mislead. Seeing that Chu Hengkong hadn't died from the vertical slash, Iwa realized that another strike wouldn't be enough to seal the deal. Iwa chose to use this opportunity to sheath his sword; he was about to unleash the Iaijutsu that would break through the water flag.

Du Muyan slightly lowered his knees, his thumb lightly touching the hilt of his sword. At this moment, his mind, body, and technique merged into one, all for the sake of unleashing the strongest sword strike of the Steel Edge Style. At this moment, Chu Hengkong took a step forward with a powerful stomp, his aura as deep and resonant as an iron mountain lean, the force originating from his taut palm. His palm struck the hilt of the sword, forcing the outstretched rock blade back into its sheath.

I can’t leave the house!

Chu Hengkong changed his palm into a claw, his little finger pointing towards Yan's wrist. Yan's right hand suddenly loosened its grip; this point seemed to possess a magical power controlling his hand, precisely the fundamental acupoint striking technique of the Dragon Township Fist. Chu Hengkong slashed with his left arm, his tentacle blade flashing, while simultaneously clenching his fist to snatch the blade, the rough rock blade being directly pulled from its sheath.

A swordsman cannot be without a weapon; fighting bare-handed only leads to death. Seeing his weapon lost, Du Muyan decisively clapped his hands together and struck the blade. His petrified hand withstood the blow, managing to pull the white sword from the tentacle.

Disarming an opponent barehanded, also known as taking a knife without a blade, was a quick and ingenious move that barely restored balance to the game, with both sides enduring the pain and creating distance between them. Du Muyan sheathed Chu Hengkong's blade, and Chu Hengkong gripped the sword with both hands, waiting for his chance. Both were seriously injured, and the next strike would determine the victor.

The flames pressed in relentlessly, shrinking the battlefield outside the inferno every moment. The ceiling groaned under the weight, and a cluster of ash fell silently. In that instant, Chu Hengkong struck first, choosing a desperate, all-or-nothing vertical slash!

Du Muyan drew his sword almost simultaneously, the gleaming blade slicing through the ashes, but unlike the previous bold, unrestrained strokes, it was now converging into a single, needle-like line. His Iaijutsu was also a vertical slash, the compressed power resonating within the blade, causing a thunderous roar as it was drawn.

Steel Edge Style - No Return Strike!

This is the true art of striking first after being struck later, the club's greatest trump card. No matter how powerful the strike, it is useless against this one, for the shockwave shatters all restraints upon impact, even the enemy's blade. Only a concentrated, vertical slash like Iaijutsu can fully unleash its power; even Ji Huaisu's sword and shield cannot stop it.

The two swords clashed in mid-air, the recoil instantly generating a powerful force that surged into Chu Hengkong's palm... but his sword did not shatter! The arc of his sword suddenly deflected during the clash, as if a swallow were spreading its wings at sunset, bathed in light and drawing an extremely eerie circle.

The force of the impact deflected the blade from its original trajectory, thus avoiding a fatal annihilation. It slashed diagonally into the rock's body, cleaving through its heart!

Their figures clashed as metal struck the ground with a loud crash. Chu Hengkong could no longer grip his knife; the force of the blow exploded within his arm, nearly crippling his right hand. He barely managed to grab the rock knife with his tentacle and turn to defend himself, not allowing himself a moment to relax, for these monsters in the club only revealed their true forms after being severely wounded.

Du Muyan knelt on the ground, still clutching the knife tightly in his hand.

"Excellent swordsmanship," the man exclaimed.

Only then did his calm voice sound weak. He could no longer suppress his injuries; his clenched muscles relaxed, and his internal organs spilled out of his abdomen. Hot blood dripped from the fatal wound, as red as human blood.

Chu Hengkong was stunned.

"You are not a victim."

"I'm not."

Du Muyan turned his head and smiled slightly.

What's so strange about people not wanting to be monsters?

He collapsed to the ground, his lifeless body falling into the fire.

Chapter 54 Remaining Ashes

For a fleeting moment, Chu Hengkong wanted to question his adversary, asking why someone with self-respect would associate with a monster. But he didn't speak. He knew his opponent would ask the same question in return, asking why he became an assassin in the first place.

It's nothing more than something we've heard so many times we're tired of hearing it.

Yan's corpse was no longer visible, only ashes scattered in the blue flames. Chu Hengkong dragged his sword out of the dueling arena. The staircase leading to the top floor had long since collapsed. He extinguished the flames with his sword, punched through the rocks to clear a path, and walked upwards step by step.

Yan's sword was surprisingly heavy, seemingly weighing a thousand pounds. Was it this heavy during the previous battle? Chu Hengkong shook his head, breathing deeply into the scorching air. His lungs felt dry and painful, as if they were burning, and despite being in a burning house, he felt waves of cold. Blood had already soaked through his clothes, rolling onto the ground and leaving scattered traces.

Even with the immovable armor and light armor protecting him, Yan's vertical slash nearly killed him. Chu Hengkong's head was spinning, and he walked like a wound-up toy soldier, stopping and starting. Flames, stairs, corridors. He closed his eyes. There was a smell of blood. He followed the stench. Corridor, rubble, he broke through, and continued walking until he saw a corpse.

The corpses of the club's thugs lay there, their stiff faces bearing grotesque smiles. Not far ahead were the bodies of resurrection unit members, the corners of their mouths peeking out from their shattered helmets. To die smiling—that's good. Having stumbled and struggled through life, they should at least die happily…

Chu Hengkong slapped his forehead with his tentacle, and after regaining some clarity, he stared wide-eyed. The entire floor had been built into a chapel, with round stained glass windows everywhere, refracting light and converging on a huge oil painting that covered an entire wall. In the painting was a wealthy old man, sitting at a table piled high with food and treasure, his smile kind and benevolent.

The old man's eyes in the painting moved naturally, and Chu Hengkong instinctively realized that he must not look into them, so he immediately lowered his head. In front of the old man's portrait were piles of corpses, including thugs, gamblers, and team members. All the corpses reached out towards the painting, and all the corpses wore smiles, as if they had died happily after fulfilling all their wishes.

"Get close and you'll die," Chu Hengkong mumbled incoherently. He was almost delirious and had to remind himself of this. "Make eye contact and you'll die too."

What is your wish?

What kind of happiness do you yearn for?

He heard the old man's voice, gentle and kind, like Santa Claus asking a child what they wanted. Chu Hengkong didn't reply. He closed his eyes and wrapped his tentacles around the hilt of his knife. The tentacle knife flew across the chapel, slashing through the face of the old man in the painting. He hacked wildly with all his might until the frame broke into pieces and crashed down, the shattered canvas flying into the fire.

Normally, he should have realized something. The portrait that meant death to whoever saw it wouldn't lose its power because of the distance; he had no reason to be able to cut it down unscathed. But Chu Hengkong's consciousness was beginning to blur, so he didn't have time to think about it. With his eyes closed, he didn't know that at the moment the portrait shattered, the old man was examining his tentacles.

—We will meet again.

The old man's voice disappeared, and the eerie atmosphere that had surrounded the entire floor vanished. That should be considered a done deal. Chu Hengkong sheathed his sword and turned around. He wanted to walk out, but he was too weak. So he simply sat down, leaning on his sword, and looked at the fire that was encroaching on his vision.

"They all go down pretty much at the same time," he sighed, seemingly without understanding.

Memories flooded his mind: the fire at the family headquarters, the corpses lying in pools of blood, the overturned car. Past and present intertwined eerily in the flames, indistinguishable between memory and illusion. Chu Hengkong suddenly felt tired; he wanted to rest a little longer.

At that moment, a blinding light pierced through the fire, shattering the illusion in a reckless and unreasonable manner, and in reality, he met the girl's purple eyes.

"Are you alright? Still breathing?" Ji Huaisu, supporting her light shield, reached out to him. "Let's go, let's go, let's get this sorted out and go home!"

It was really noisy, so noisy that it made you forget everything, but it also made you feel a little at ease. He mustered his strength, reached out his arm, and grasped Ji Huaisu's anxious hand.

The last fragment of my memory is the night sky outside the fire.

·

Maivia Club, four basement levels.

Even the club's most senior employees were unaware that a hidden space lay beneath the garage. No elevator could reach this place; only Maivia, Dumuyan, and the family heirs were qualified to open the secret passage and descend to the deepest level where the secrets lay buried.

Visaph crawled laboriously through the tunnel. When he fell to the bottom of the well, he was left with only his heart, but the maggot-like vitality of the fallen kept him alive. He attacked several deserters and women, piecing together a shell from his fragmented limbs. His vengeful heart fueled Visaph's actions; he had to reach the secret chamber to have a chance to "pray."

Only with deeper conviction and more genuine emotion can one receive the moon's deeper blessings. He now possessed this obsession; he wanted to kill Ji Huaisu, kill Chu Hengkong, and tear everyone in the City Lord's Mansion to pieces. He wanted revenge!

The tunnel finally came to an end, and Vesap eagerly looked up. Inside the secret chamber, as before, five small porcelain figures representing the family—the father, eldest son, second son, eldest daughter, and the unborn second daughter—formed a circle. A triple-circle summoning array was engraved on the floor tiles, and in the center of the array was a jet-black mirror, like a moon disc.

He picked up the black mirror with one hand and carefully wiped it with a soft cloth.

"Finally found it! I knew Maivia wouldn't be that clueless. A summoning circle involving the abyss should naturally be placed at the bottom!"

Kanin put away the mirror and turned to look at the dazed Visaph: "You look good."

Visaf understood, completely understood. Pleading, revenge, feigned compliance—his expression in that instant was so complex that even the most skilled actor couldn't mimic even a tenth of it. He spoke, but Kanin merely snapped his fingers, and a pillar of blue flame rose, incinerating the last of Maivias into ashes.

"Let's part on good terms," ​​Kanin said cheerfully.

Bessen then entered the secret chamber and stomped out the ashes. Behind him were masked "ravens," one of which, seemingly feeling the heat, removed its mask, revealing a slippery, sticky face resembling that of a mollusk.

“I’m not full yet,” the demon-possessed man said. “You promised a feast in the swamp, but now there are only appetizers.”

These demon-possessed individuals from the swamp stared at Kanin, their eyes filled with naked, greedy savagery. When it came to profit, they were no different from the Fallen. Kanin remained unmoved, merely smiling and shaking his finger: "The main course will be served shortly. You should have some faith in me. Look how much Bessen has eaten!"

"Don't compare me to this bunch of trash," Bessen said disdainfully. The flock of crows immediately fell silent upon hearing his words, not daring to utter another utterance. "You managed to gather some usable relics in the chaos. What did you achieve?"

Kanin held up the mirror: "This thing connects to the First Abyss; using it directly will kill everyone. Next, we need to find a way to modify this mirror to connect to... the Spiral Tower? Or the sea where your true form is located?"

“The Spiral Tower,” Bessen said. “My main body isn’t far from here; I can get there quickly.”

"Listen to you, it's time to retreat. Time waits for no one, guys!"

Kanin transformed into flames, leading the crows into the tunnel and away, while Bessen subsequently detached from the puppet and flew away. The abandoned puppet lay within the summoning circle, its eyes flashing. A second later, it exploded, burying the last secret of the Maivia family along with the club.

·

Two days later.

The affluent neighborhood was teeming with people, countless shoes treading across the charred ground, crowding around the burnt-out buildings.

The city's most luxurious buildings were reduced to ashes in the fire, the remaining ruins resembling a giant skeleton. An execution platform stands at the entrance of what used to be a club, displaying a dozen or so bodies or heads that could barely be identified after the disaster.

They were all members of the club, or criminals they had harbored. Above the execution platform were wanted posters corresponding to the heads, stating in the simplest terms the numerous crimes these people had committed. Citizens threw filth and stones, whipped the sinners' corpses, and roars and cries rang out from time to time.

"This is no longer the time for you to be arrogant! It's over!"

Logically speaking, such desecration of a corpse is neither legal nor compliant, but people have waited too long for this righteous revenge. The club has brought nearly a decade of suffering to the city, and those long-suppressed resentments and grievances must have an outlet, just like when the tyrannical Dong Zhuo was beheaded by Lü Bu, the entire city of Chang'an celebrated, and the body guards used his corpse as wax to set off a fire that lasted for several days.

The celebration of revenge had lasted for half a day, and it was clear it would continue until the last victim's anger was finally vented. Many, exhausted from shouting, searched for familiar figures, wanting to express their gratitude to those who had brought justice. But no matter how they searched, they found only low-ranking officers maintaining order; the detective and captain were nowhere to be seen.

An elderly woman holding a bouquet of flowers trembled as she reached out to tug at the team member's hand: "Aren't the detectives coming?"

“They have something to do,” the team member replied with a smile, despite wearing a helmet. “Something they have to do.”

Chu Hengkong, dressed in a suit, listened to the fading tolling of the bell. Around him, lush green grass carpeted the ground, and the wind rustled through the gray stone tablet, stirring up the old dust from its inscriptions.

While the citizens were celebrating, the detective was attending a funeral.

The cemetery is located behind the headquarters building, protected by a cluster of buildings shaped like the sun. The tombstones rise from the small hill behind, descending in waves of gray across the grass. The eulogy had already been read; Ji Huaisu laid flowers at the newly erected tombstone, and the funeral concluded with the tolling of bells. The team members dispersed in twos and threes, their faces carrying lingering sorrow, yet also a sense of relief that the dust had settled.

Ji Huaisu put down the bouquet and sighed, "You seem to be adapting quite well."

“In the past, after a battle, a funeral was held first,” Chu Hengkong said. “It felt similar to now. We would also report the battle situation to our dead brothers at their graves, saying how many people from the opposing family we sent down to join them. Although everyone knows that the dead can’t hear, it’s still comforting, as if dying in this way would be more meaningful.”

"The meaning of the dead is borne by the victors," Ji Huaisu said. "The meaning is that we won this battle, and we must continue to win in the future!"

She clenched her fists vigorously, clearly having faced many life-or-death situations and not easily swayed by internal conflict. Chu Hengkong knew that being busy in times like these would make him feel better, so he asked, "Afterwards, shall we investigate the scene?"

"That's exactly what I was going to tell you." Ji Huaisu patted his back. "Go drive."

Chu Hengkong dodged the slap: "I don't drive for others."

"Tch, so petty." Ji Huaisu scoffed. "See you at the door."

She left first, but Chu Hengkong didn't rush to leave. He walked towards the small hill in the cemetery. Along the way, the styles of the tombstones kept changing. At first, they were mostly neat stone slabs, then they became all sorts of shapes and sizes, like flowers, sculptures, and geometric patterns. Finally, they even resembled performance art, with chessboard tombstones and seesaw tombstones. It was as if a group of extremely unruly children had once caused a ruckus in the cemetery, making jokes about death, a matter that should not be desecrated.

These tombstones are inscribed with names from different dust islands, each bearing a different birth date but a largely similar date of death. Seventy percent of the souls in the cemetery died more than 20 years ago. These earliest departed people, along with the most ornate tombstones, gather on the mountaintop, where a man sits quietly drinking before a tombstone carved into a pile of lilies.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Ji Qiufeng asked.

"Very unique."

Ji Qiufeng chuckled: "This is Jie Wen's tombstone. He always liked to dress up as a scholar in white robes, but he was actually a very flamboyant guy. He originally wanted to design the tombstone as a nude female statue, but we managed to persuade him to change his mind. Otherwise, when Xiao An comes to pay respects to his father, he might cry and laugh at the same time, which is really despicable."

Chu Hengkong raised an eyebrow: "You guys even design your own tombstones?"

“We were all young back then. I don’t know which time we got drunk and started talking about what would happen after we died. We said we wanted to die in a unique way, so that we could say we’d lived our lives. So we took turns designing our own tombstones, and we gave each other’s designs a score. We agreed that if one of us passed away, the rest of us would be responsible for the funeral. We were only allowed to play music at the funeral, no dirges, and the more beautiful the grave, the better,” Ji Qiufeng said. “In practice, you would find these requirements ridiculous. You couldn’t cry or laugh, but there was no way around it, we had all agreed to it. So we built graves one by one, and people passed away one by one. In the end, only Youyou and I were left.”

Chu Hengkong fell silent for a moment. Upon arriving at the cemetery, he fully understood the plight of Huilong City, and why these people, who should have possessed extraordinary abilities, had fallen to such a state. Because everyone was dead, killed in those bleak twenty years, leaving not even a single skillful hand behind. Their unit was called Resurrection, because the survivors hoped for a miraculous return to life.

He knew the man didn't expect any comfort. A person standing before a tombstone, no matter how much or what they say, is only talking to themselves. But he couldn't help speaking up, out of a kind of shared sorrow.

“I understand how you feel… It was the same when my family was wiped out. Everyone with a name was gone, and I was the only one left to collect their corpses,” the assassin said. “There were a few days when I really wanted to die, but then I thought I’d go out and kill all my enemies one by one.”

“This is the last person’s responsibility,” he said to Ji Qiufeng. “Mr. Ji, you also need to step up your efforts.”

Ji Qiufeng gazed at the dark sky for a long time.

"We have to work hard," he said softly. "If I die, who will avenge them?"

He poured the remaining wine at his old friend's grave and slowly walked away. In just a few steps, he straightened his back, as if supported by invisible hands, transforming from a dejected man at the grave back into the city lord who supports the city.

"Remember to come to class on time tomorrow."

Chu Hengkong changed direction and walked away, his steps becoming as light as usual. When he reached the exit, he stopped and noticed that Jie An was standing in the shadow of the stone archway, looking down at the cracks in the stone.

"Like a woman." Chu Hengkong pressed down his hat.

"Go to hell." Jie An smiled wryly. "I don't quite understand."

"what?"

"I've never been on a major battlefield in my life," the cook said. "I don't quite understand why everyone, knowing they'll die, still grits their teeth and goes in..."

Chu Hengkong recalled the swordsman who had fallen in the fire, and with him, his sword. He took out the silver-eyed book; the words on the latest page shimmered with a faint silver light.

【Steel Sword - Rock】

Rating: 2

【Origin: Mysterious Realm of Senluo - Huilong City】

【Effect: 1. Rock Blade】

It can block and return attacks within the range of point one. When emotions are high, the blocking range can briefly extend to point two.

2. Steel Edge Flow - No Backlash

The sword strike that Du Muyan used in his final moments can be used.

[Longing: The so-called Steel Edge Style is a laughing stock on Shura Island.]

Destitute martial artists, lacking both swordsmanship and techniques, swagger and deceive under the banner of the Steel Edge School.

Unaware of this, Maivia hired Du Muyan at great expense and revered him as a master.

Yan practiced diligently every day, honing his swordsmanship, and remained true to his lie until death.

Chu Hengkong put away his book, and an impatient horn blared from not far away. He felt that many things were universally true, whether on Earth or in another world, in the underworld or the legitimate world—it was all the same.