Chapter Thirty-Six: Severed with a Single Stroke!
Shut the door and beat the dog?
Hearing the exchange between Tang Fei and Phoenix, Chen Hu realized the situation had become dire.
If this woman truly was a master of the Qi Manipulation Realm, there was no way he or the gray-robed men he’d brought could stand against her alone.
Otherwise, why would they have shut the door? Wasn’t it just to prevent them from escaping?
One of the gray-robed men reached into his pocket for a whistle, intending to sound an alarm.
Crack!
A silver whip lashed out. Half of the gray robe’s head was sheared clean off.
Thud!
The severed head hit the ground, blood spraying in all directions.
The body remained standing for a moment before finally collapsing with a dull crash.
Panic seized the gray-robed men—they scattered in all directions. Some tried to retreat out of the courtyard, only to be knocked back by a single swing of Little Fatty’s hammer.
One glance at the expert’s move, and it was clear how the situation stood.
Chen Hu hadn’t even seen Phoenix make her move before one of his men’s heads had been sliced clean off. Such power was simply unfathomable.
And that whip in her hand was clearly an energy weapon from Newstar; nothing from Old Earth could be so sharp.
Chen Hu’s gaze grew cold and menacing as he stared at Phoenix. He knew now they’d found the right person.
If only they’d been wrong...
He’d been desperate to find her, but now that he had, it was his own life that was forfeit?
He wanted to rise in rank and fortune, but only if he survived.
“We of the Flame Shrine have no quarrel with you. Why did you kill our black-robed men?” Chen Hu demanded.
“What? Trying to buy time?” Tang Fei saw through his ploy instantly, mockery in his voice.
He knew that as long as Chen Hu and his men lingered here, those waiting outside would grow suspicious when there was no news. Eventually, they’d realize something was wrong.
At that point, the Flame Army would surely swarm over to encircle and annihilate them.
“Unfortunately for you, that’s not going to happen.”
Phoenix knew there was no time to waste. Whipping her Phoenix Lash, she surged straight toward Chen Hu.
He raised his broadsword high, roaring as he braced to meet the strike head-on.
The blade hummed, a blue aura swirling about its edge.
That blue aura was blade force.
Chen Hu had some talent in cultivation, though not much.
Without a famous master or profound manuals, he’d relied on a set of basic sword techniques passed down from before the Great Cataclysm, and countless days of grueling practice, to brute-force his way into grasping blade force.
With blade force, his sword was no longer an ordinary weapon.
This was his pride and the reason he’d thrived within the Flame Shrine. If Bian Zhenxin had lived, and he’d continued to serve loyally for a few more years, he might have inherited the black robe position at the Hate Mountain settlement.
But fate had other plans.
Chen Hu intended to block Phoenix’s lightning whip with his blade, fully aware that his strength was far inferior to a true Qi Manipulation master.
Still, brute force was his one advantage.
As long as he could withstand a few lashes, reinforcements from the Flame Shrine would arrive and he might yet escape with his life.
The Phoenix Lash struck Chen Hu’s raised broadsword. At the first touch, the blue energy instantly dissipated.
Slice!
The sword split cleanly in two, its tip clattering to the ground.
As easily as slicing tofu, Phoenix’s whip cut through the blade—and through Chen Hu himself.
The silver whip swept past, opening a massive gash in his chest.
He looked down in disbelief.
He knew there was a gap between them, but not this vast.
One strike?
He had only managed a single blow.
Thud!
His body crashed heavily to the ground, eyes wide open in death, unable to find peace.
He’d sensed something was wrong, but never imagined it would end like this.
Seeing their leader sliced in two by a single whip, the other gray robes were terrified, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
Some, paralyzed by fear, collapsed on the spot.
“Hel—”
Someone barely began to call for help before Little Fatty’s hammer silenced him.
Most of them couldn’t even make a sound, their throats seemingly stuffed with cotton.
Tang Fei was busy as well, wielding his dogleg blade guided by his aura, slashing through the crowd, each stroke claiming a life without mercy.
Soon, the courtyard was littered with corpses.
The gray robes of the Flame Shrine were little more than ordinary men with strong bodies—enough to bully common folk, but utterly helpless before cultivators like Tang Fei.
Little Fatty made sure none survived, checking the bodies with his hammer and finishing off any who still drew breath.
Their teamwork was impeccable—everyone knew their role.
In the blink of an eye, Chen Hu and his dozen gray-robed followers were wiped out.
The courtyard returned to an uneasy silence, the air thick with the stench of blood.
------
In the village center, Bian Feng sat astride his tall steed, growing impatient without word from Chen Hu. He asked, “Where is Chen Hu? Why hasn’t he brought the people yet?”
Bloodhand stepped forward respectfully. “Sir, shall I go check?”
“Go,” Bian Feng nodded. “See what’s happening—can’t even bring a few hill folk over... Is this how Chen Hu does things?”
He paused, then added, “Bring a few more men with you.”
He knew Chen Hu’s capability—otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent him to the Hate Mountain settlement as his son’s aide.
So long without news—had something gone wrong?
“Yes, sir,” Bloodhand replied, pleased.
He knew that if he handled this well, he might win Bian Feng’s favor. Then the Bloodhand Society would have it even better—able to rob and kill with impunity, growing unchecked, without fear of the Flame Shrine’s retribution.
After all, they were carrying out orders.
With a wave, Bloodhand summoned several dozen of his society’s members to find Chen Hu.
Many had seen where Chen Hu went, so they didn’t need a guide to reach Tang Fei’s courtyard.
“This is the place?”
“Yes, here.”
Bloodhand stepped forward to knock, but suddenly halted.
He sniffed the air—there was a strong scent of blood.
“Something’s wrong.” Bloodhand’s heart leapt. Chen Hu’s group might already be in danger.
Just as he was about to call an alarm, a loud crash sounded.
The thick ironwood door flew outward, whistling toward them.
Bloodhand’s reflexes were sharp—he leapt into the air.
The other Bloodhand Society members weren’t so lucky; the heavy door slammed into them, shattering ribs and bones, leaving them writhing on the ground, coughing blood.
Tang Fei charged out at the head, his dogleg blade transformed into the scythe of death.
Guided by his aura, each slash opened a throat.
Phoenix was not to be outdone—her whip lashed out, cutting a line of Bloodhand Society men in half.
You must always believe in science—high-tech weapons truly kill more efficiently.
Little Fatty, hammer in hand, followed close behind, sending men flying with every swing. Whether they died or not didn’t matter—he made sure they flew.
The old man hung at the rear, guarding their backs against any sneak attacks by experts.
Tang Fei and his group struck first, leaving carnage in their wake. The Bloodhand Society and Flame Shrine’s gray robes were routed, retreating in chaos.
The commotion soon drew the attention of Bian Feng and the others in the center of the village.
A flood of Flame Army soldiers and cultivators surged in, determined to capture Tang Fei and his companions at all costs.
Tang Fei, blade raised, was eager to keep killing, but the gray robes had lost their nerve and fled, wailing and crying for their lives.
Clatter—
The fully armed Flame Army arrived, forming ranks, guns raised, facing off against Tang Fei, Phoenix, Little Fatty, and the old man trailing nervously behind, ready to run at any moment.
On one side were Tang Fei, Phoenix, Little Fatty, and the perpetually skittish old man; on the other, an endless sea of well-armed soldiers and bristling gun barrels.
It was a confrontation of utterly unequal forces.