Chapter 79: The Last Flicker of a Spent Arrow

Although Zhang He’s copper coin had been knocked down, the gap in the quartet’s attack was quickly closed, for as soon as Bai Shuangfei landed, the Discipline Inspection Secretary and the other two leaders once again surrounded him.

Zhang He was no stranger to battle, but this was the first time he had witnessed such an impressive display of teamwork from a trio. Their coordination, however, seemed to consist of only one sequence: the Deputy Chairwoman of the Union would launch a flying kick, the Discipline Inspection Secretary would follow with a sweeping attack, and the Director of the Finance Bureau would finish with a blow from above.

Having learned from earlier, Bai Shuangfei found it much easier to handle this round. A player whose skills are rooted in hand-to-hand combat has little to fear from close-quarters fighting. With agile movements and swift strikes, Bai Shuangfei neutralized their triple assault within a few palm strikes.

The Deputy Chairwoman stood dazed just as Bai Shuangfei’s palm landed squarely on her withered chest. She flew backward like a kite, a damage value of “–108!” appearing above her head.

His power was undeniable, but lacking the restoration of his abilities, the damage was less than it could have been.

“I’m a woman! You’re playing for real? Fine, I’ll fight you to the end!” The Deputy Chairwoman, blood surging and chest aching as if struck with a sledgehammer, struggled to her feet and roared, “Out of my way, all of you!”

This time, as she charged, her flying kick was different—her legs changed positions midair several times, a flurry of movement that anyone with an eye for martial arts could recognize as a combination of “Mandarin Duck Kicks” and “Whirlwind Scissors.” Crude as it was, its dizzying speed made it difficult to counter. Bai Shuangfei knew he could not afford a single hit—if the first kick landed, the rest would follow, and though these weren’t top experts, they weren’t novices either. A single mistake and he could die here, hacked to pieces by this rabble.

As the kicks rained down, Bai Shuangfei’s right palm spun in a circle, following the trajectory of her legs. Suddenly, his hand curved into a claw, latching onto her ankle with a loud crack. His left palm struck out—a move from his early repertoire, the “Breaking Cloud Palm,” which combined palm strikes, grappling, and eagle claw techniques in rapid succession.

Bai Shuangfei possessed no fewer than three or four deadly arts. Any one of them could finish off Zhang He’s group, but his depleted inner strength prevented him from displaying their full power. Even so, this strike left the Deputy Chairwoman half-paralyzed.

Seeing her limp body about to collapse, Bai Shuangfei seized her ankle and swung her upward. His palms, in a move called “Twin Demons Slam the Door,” struck her chest again.

This time, it was lethal. The Deputy Chairwoman was sent flying, blood spraying in an arc.

Critical hit: “–232!”

It was a masterful blow, for as she flew, her body collided with the charging Finance Director, sending both tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately for him, the Director managed to climb back up, but the Deputy Chairwoman lay motionless in the grass—clearly dead.

“Second Sister!” The Discipline Inspection Secretary, seeing his comrade slain, was consumed with rage. With a furious bellow: “Damn you! ‘Indomitable Golden Spear’—hyaah!” he hurled his sickle-tipped spear at Bai Shuangfei.

This was no ordinary throw—the weapon glowed blood-red halfway through the air, streaking towards Bai Shuangfei’s chest like a rocket.

Startled, Bai Shuangfei realized this was a killing move. He braced himself and struck the tip of the weapon with his palm.

But the spear did not fly off course; it only shifted slightly, plunging into his shoulder.

Critical hit: “–188!”

The Secretary was no master, yet to inflict this much damage was impressive. But for Bai Shuangfei, it was a trifling matter. He jerked his shoulder, ejecting the spear, then deftly flipped it with both palms.

“Take it back!” Bai Shuangfei struck again, sending the sickle-tipped spear flying back at the Secretary.

The Secretary could never have anticipated such a move. Hesitation left him unable to dodge or catch it, and before he could react, Bai Shuangfei’s palms were already at his chest.

The flying spear was a feint—the real kill lay behind.

A spurt of blood gushed from the Secretary’s mouth as he toppled backward.

Critical hit: “–210!”

“Boss!” The Finance Director's spirits shattered; he could not believe his leader had been slain with a single blow.

Yet, Bai Shuangfei had paid dearly for his victories—his condition was far worse than he appeared. That strike, though successful, left a metallic taste welling up in his throat, nearly forcing him to vomit.

He knew he must not give in to the urge—spitting blood was a sign of grave internal injury.

Bending over, Bai Shuangfei coughed violently, the sound like a man afflicted with a centuries-old plague, about to cough up his lungs.

With both comrades fallen, the Finance Director leapt up in a rage, swinging his staff down with all his might. “I’ll kill you today!”

This final overhead blow carried every ounce of his strength. The wind howled as the staff descended—he had no intention of holding back, all or nothing.

But as the staff fell, Bai Shuangfei’s head snapped up, his right shoulder rising, his body twisting aside—gone was the feeble, coughing old man; his eyes now flashed with a cold brilliance.

The Director sensed deceit, but it was too late.

Crash!

Red damage value: “–92!”

Smack!

Red damage value: “–160!”

The staff slipped from the Director’s grasp, rolling into the grass, lost for good.

Bai Shuangfei had feigned grave injury and coughing to lull his foe into carelessness. Taking the staff’s blow on his right shoulder, he delivered a double palm strike to the Director’s abdomen.

It was an ingenious tactic: the staff, being longer than the arm, could have been withdrawn after striking, but Bai Shuangfei’s timing left no chance for reprisal.

Now, he felt his body was utterly spent—compared to his fifth-tier state, he was weak indeed, but even so, he was confident he could finish off Zhang He.

But when he raised his head, his expression darkened.

Zhang He stood atop the pile of equipment, short blade in hand, unmoving. His gaze was colder than steel.

Bai Shuangfei was unafraid of such a look. He had killed countless foes, and the so-called “aura of murderous intent” was, to him, nothing but a ridiculous myth.

In the world of martial arts, within the realm of “Dynasty,” strength alone determines fate.

Still, Zhang He’s gaze made his heart skip a beat. Had this boy seen through his weakness?

Impossible, he told himself, yet seeing Zhang He standing resolutely atop the loot, unease crept into his heart.

It was a feeling he’d only known when facing top-tier masters such as the Four Heroes of Qiongzhou, the Three Swordsmen of Yangzhou, or the Hall Master of Wudang Sword Dance. But Zhang He was clearly not of their rank—why, then, this apprehension?

Even Bai Shuangfei could not answer. If he had to force an explanation, it was simply that Zhang He was too cold—cold as an ancient glacier.

Though not yet a master, he possessed the bearing of one.

A sudden hush fell over the room. The silence was tense, but it could not forestall the impending final duel.

Bai Shuangfei was a terrifying opponent, different from the likes of Dreaming in Water or Rampage Down the Street—those men had status, sect, and reputation to consider; their actions were tempered by caution. But Bai Shuangfei was a red-named killer—having come this far, with treasure within reach, he cared for nothing else. Injured as he was, he might still launch a desperate assault.

Thus, Zhang He forced himself to remain calm.

From the preceding battle, he had seen that Bai Shuangfei’s current abilities—his inner strength, agility, and power—were at least at the Early Ascendant level. On even terms, Zhang He stood little chance; in fact, he was at a disadvantage. His only edge was that his attacks could truly threaten Bai Shuangfei—if he could land them. But catching him, wounding him, even touching him with a coin, had so far proved impossible. Chasing him would only waste energy.

So Zhang He stood upon the pile of gear. Since Bai Shuangfei’s goal was the box, he would force him to make the first move—only then would he have a shot at victory.

But fate is never predictable. Bai Shuangfei, as he studied Zhang He, suddenly spoke: “You know, you’re not really my match.”

Zhang He’s heart sank.

He rarely asked why, but this time he made an exception: “Oh?”

Bai Shuangfei continued, “You know it yourself. You attacked me twice with your blade, but your strikes simply can’t keep up with my movements.”

Zhang He was silent.

Bai Shuangfei went on, “It’s a pity your companions are finished. Your last hope is even dimmer.”

Zhang He nodded quietly. “I admit it.”

There was no point denying reality—the situation left him no room for pretense.

Another man might have tried to argue, to boast or gamble everything on bravado, but what would that accomplish? It would only fluster him and push the hope of a comeback further away. So Zhang He answered plainly:

“You’re gravely injured. Even though your strength may not fully recover for a while, I must admit—I am probably still not your match.”