Chapter Seventy-Three: Direct Confrontation

Chen Ce’s arm tensed slightly as he pulled at the scar-faced chieftain, only to feel a chilling coldness. Just as he sensed that something was wrong with the man, intending to examine him closely, a wave of terror crashed over his heart—he was suddenly enveloped in a savage, overwhelming killing intent.

The most terrifying part was that he had no idea where this threat originated.

In that desperate instant, Chen Ce’s years of experience as a top-tier master came to his rescue. He had no time to retract his arms, so instead he quickly drew upon his internal energy and executed the Iron Weight Drop technique.

With a crash, in Hu San’s sight, Chen Ce dropped straight beneath the table. Hu San’s arrow, initially aimed at his chest, struck his shoulder instead due to this sudden movement.

There was a thunderous sound. A shimmering aura rippled across Chen Ce’s body—Hu San’s iron arrow, which had shot forth like a bolt of lightning, now seemed to strike armor, its speed dropping dramatically.

However, this arrow had been fired with Hu San’s full strength, using the Nine Ox Bow at close range. Chen Ce’s protective energy, though formidable, was not an actual steel shield, much less the monstrous flesh of a spirit beast.

So, though the arrow’s force was somewhat blunted, it still pierced through Chen Ce, and the immense impact hurled him backward, crashing directly into tables and chairs behind him, throwing the entire room into chaos.

Hu San took a deep breath. He knew this arrow had failed, and there would be no chance for a second. Chen Ce now lay flat on the ground; even if Hu San wanted to shoot again, there was no opportunity.

So, Hu San trained his next arrows on Zou Ping, who had been heavily poisoned. Although Zou Ping’s deep reserves of internal energy had masked the symptoms, the poison’s effects were severe.

Whatever befell Chen Ce brought Zou Ping no benefit—he stood paralyzed, dazed, and Hu San’s arrow pierced straight through his chest, lifting him into the air like a ragdoll. Arrow after arrow struck until Zou Ping resembled a honeycomb, and when his body finally crashed back to the floor, he was utterly lifeless.

His vaunted Nine Thunder Aura barely flickered before shattering like a soap bubble, incapable of forming under the effects of such venom.

After these sudden events, the others in the room finally reacted, but before they could draw their weapons, each one felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground.

Golden plum blossom-like marks began to bloom across their faces, a sight that sent chills down the spine.

The stone poison left them with less than a tenth of their usual internal energy, while the deadlier toxin rapidly drained their vitality.

By the time Hu San leaped back in through the window, there was no one left alive in the room except for Chen Ce, whose face was deathly pale.

“Chieftain, what are you doing?”

Staring at the mysterious leader with bow drawn, the iron arrow still lodged in his shoulder, Chen Ce’s eyes nearly blazed with fury.

Gazing at the carnage, he felt an urge to throw back his head and howl to the heavens.

He hated the chieftain bitterly, but the whole affair was too bizarre—he could not imagine what motive the leader could have for attacking them. And yet, it appeared even the four most powerful figures in Wolfheart Fortress had been sacrificed.

That was why he demanded an answer, though a terrifying suspicion had already begun to form in his mind—one he dared not entertain.

“I killed Chen Zhou. So tell me, why wouldn’t I strike against you as well?” Hu San let out a strange laugh, his tone still as stiff and emotionless as before.

“You…are…Hu…San?”

Chen Ce forced each word through clenched teeth, his gaze fixed on the powerful bow strapped to the chieftain’s back. The more he looked, the more familiar it seemed—what else could it be but the Nine Ox Bow?

As far as he knew, Hu San was famed throughout these lands for wielding that very weapon.

“You must be joking. I am the chieftain of Wolf Fang Fortress, old Chen. Have you lost your mind from anger?”

Hu San, of course, would never admit it. Even with his foe at his mercy, he had to guard against any tricks—if word got out, how could he ever show his face again?

But it didn’t matter whether he admitted it; Chen Ce had already decided. With a bitter laugh, he said, “Well, well, what a youthful hero. The Wolfheart chieftain was already a match for any master five years ago, and now he’s dead at the hands of a thirteen-year-old boy.”

“Hu San, if you live, you’ll one day be a lord of men. Pity, you won’t get the chance. Your talent for causing trouble is even more frightening than your skill. Killing Chen Zhou—no king in Wucang could save you now.”

“Enough talk. I’m not Hu San, don’t flatter him so.”

Hu San shook his head and raised his bow to fire.

At such close range, and with Chen Ce severely wounded, he had no hope of dodging. He could only draw his three-section steel staff and frantically knock aside the incoming arrows, rushing toward Hu San with all his remaining strength.

He knew well the power of Hu San’s Nine Ox Bow. In his current state, if he didn’t close the distance quickly, he would die in this drawn-out duel. If he could only get close, as a first-rate master, he was confident he could end the fight with a single blow—Hu San, after all, was rumored to have no internal energy.

But Hu San had no intention of letting things proceed as Chen Ce wished. Even if his current strength would allow him to win in a direct confrontation, why take the risk when a safer, easier path was available?

Hu San began to use the Fish Step, darting around the room like a swift-moving carp. Now, with a solid martial foundation, he knew exactly when and how to deploy the technique, no longer charging blindly as before.

Chen Ce was soon dismayed to find that not only had the speed of Hu San’s arrows not lessened, but the gap between them never closed.

A moment’s lapse, and another arrow struck him in the back.

Though this shot was hurried and far weaker than the first, Chen Ce was badly injured and his internal energy nearly spent. His protective aura, far from its former strength, managed to slow the arrow, but it still pierced more than three inches into his flesh.

By now, Chen Ce could only grit his teeth and endure. He waited for Hu San to exhaust his supply of arrows—perhaps then a slim hope of survival would appear.

He no longer dreamed of killing Hu San; the boy’s footwork was too fearsome, a technique that even the greatest masters might struggle to execute.

All trace of disdain vanished from Chen Ce’s mind—anyone who could move like this was no ordinary foe.

The whistle of arrows filled the air. By the time Hu San had fired all three hundred arrows, Chen Ce was covered in wounds, his limbs punctured in several places.

The most dangerous wound was the one in his chest—a price paid for attempting to bolt from the house. But once outside, with fewer obstacles, Chen Ce realized that Hu San’s archery was doubly lethal in the open, so he was forced to retreat indoors and wait for the arrows to run out.

“A true master of internal energy indeed, to withstand so much. You’ve done remarkably well.”

With his arrows depleted, Hu San tossed aside his longbow, drew his saber, and lunged at the wounded Chen Ce, who was trying desperately to escape.

“I’ve reached the eighth level of internal energy cultivation. Do you think I’d fear a mere whelp? Without your arrows, let me show you what a true gap in skill looks like.”

Seeing this, Chen Ce was not afraid, but elated. Though heavily injured, he was still a first-rate master at the eighth level. If Hu San used his Fish Step to flee, Chen Ce would never catch him. But in close quarters, he could entangle the boy and unleash his true power.

“Take this!” he shouted.

This was Hu San’s first time using the Tenfold Blade of Destruction in real combat. As he unleashed the move, the room was filled with blinding flashes, as if the world had become one of pure blade-light.

Chen Ce’s momentary joy turned to shock. He scrambled to use his three-section staff, fending off the ferocious attack with great difficulty.

“What a savage blade technique—but the wielder’s cultivation is too weak.”

His eyes flashed as he found himself once more ensnared by Hu San’s saber movements. With his breadth of experience, he knew he couldn’t break free through skill alone, but he did not panic.

Raising his staff, a yellow light flashed as the three sections swiftly locked together. With a move called “Cleave the Mountain,” he hacked straight into Hu San’s blade technique, relying on sheer power to shatter the intricate attack.

“Fool! You’re courting death!”

Hu San’s blade did not slow, but surged forward with all ten parts of his strength, colliding with Chen Ce’s staff in a thunderous crash.

The staff, raised upright, snapped instantly, collapsing into its three sections as if it were a severed snake. Hu San’s saber, its momentum undiminished, slashed across Chen Ce’s chest. Though stopped by protective energy, it tore open a massive wound.

Blood gushed forth as Chen Ce staggered back six steps, crimson dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“A worthy opponent, indeed—a true master of the eighth level.”

Hu San, too, shuddered violently, blood trickling from his lips, unable to press the attack, the shock of Chen Ce’s aura reverberating through his body.

But with his monstrous physique, he needed only a brief respite to continue fighting—unlike lesser warriors, who would be utterly helpless before such power.

“Die!”

Chen Ce had barely caught his breath before Hu San darted in again. Though Chen Ce cursed his luck, there was no turning back; unable to decipher his opponent’s techniques, he could only muster his remaining energy and fight head-on.

Again and again they clashed—Hu San’s hands streaming with blood from the force of each blow, his face pale, but Chen Ce was even worse off: his limbs trembling, his body covered in wounds, and his internal energy nearly depleted.

“How…how is this possible? How can a second-rate martial artist possess such terrifying strength? This…this is impossible…”

Blood frothed from Chen Ce’s lips, and even now he could not accept the truth. Undeniably, today’s battle had shaken him to his core.