Chapter Ninety-One: A Blade Hidden in the Shoe

Chapter Ninety-One: A Blade Hidden in a Shoe

The live chicken was finally freed from human hands and from the cruel fate of being plucked to death. It stretched its throat and let out a cry of release, shrill beyond measure.

It flapped desperately, but all the feathers on its wings had already been plucked clean by the priest. Only two bare slabs of flesh beat the air now, and what had once been a graceful posture looked grotesque beyond words.

Its claws shot forward, as though it meant to make every human who had tried to harm it pay the price. And before it stood only Tang Zhong.

Tang Zhong had never imagined that a casual visit to a temple could lead to an assassin, as if the priest had been waiting on this mountain for years, waiting only for the two of them to arrive.

His heart jolted tight, then steadied in an instant.

In the face of grave matters, keep calm.

Those were words the boss often made him repeat. He said nerves and anger would cloud judgment and slow action, robbing a person of the most precious things of all: time and opportunity.

Tang Zhong moved.

He took the initiative and pounced toward the ugly chicken.

Then his right fist clenched and thundered out.

The blow shot through the chicken’s outstretched claws and struck hard into its belly.

Like a watermelon smashed open with a hammer, like a strawberry trampled underfoot, the chicken’s body suddenly swelled and burst apart.

Bright blood, entrails, and all manner of foul matter from its guts scattered in every direction. The dead chicken, blasted apart by Tang Zhong’s fist, hurtled at the priest’s face like a mass of heavy, lethal projectiles, flying with even greater force than before.

The priest’s lunge toward Qiu Yihan was blocked, and he smashed the dead chicken away with one punch.

Only that instant of delay was enough. Qiu Yihan, rooted in place and terrified senseless, had already been seized by Tang Zhong and dragged behind him.

"Run!" Tang Zhong shouted. His voice was deafening. This was no time for gentlemanly conduct.

"Aah!" Qiu Yihan finally reacted. She screamed and turned to flee toward the temple gate.

"You won’t get away." The priest sneered.

He retreated swiftly to the place where he had just killed the chicken. With a flick of his toe, the dagger he had dropped on the ground shot toward Qiu Yihan’s back.

"Dammit." Tang Zhong lunged. In a single pounce he hurled Qiu Yihan, who had only managed two steps, to the ground.

Snap.

The sharp dagger stabbed into the rotting wooden door, producing the harsh sound of metal piercing timber. The door shuddered violently, shedding a spray of old dust.

The two bodies rolled across the ground. Tang Zhong’s hands tightly shielded Qiu Yihan’s head and face, afraid that her delicate skin and tender flesh might be injured in any way.

When they finally managed to steady themselves, the priest had already reached the entrance of the side gate. He pulled the dagger from the doorboard, toyed with it in his hand, and looked at Tang Zhong with a twisted grin.

"Not bad, kid," he said approvingly.

"Qiu Yihan, are you all right?" Tang Zhong scrambled up from atop her and asked anxiously.

Qiu Yihan’s eyes were wet, her face covered in tears. She could only shake her head frantically, unable even to speak. The sheltered little princess had been utterly terrified.

Still, Tang Zhong could understand it.

Not just her. Any ordinary student, any normal adult, if they suddenly encountered such a murder while traveling, what kind of reaction could they possibly have?

Many women, upon stumbling accidentally onto a killing scene, would be so frightened their legs turned to jelly and they could scarcely walk. And this was worse—this was a situation in which they themselves had become the target of a killer. Every second could mean the loss of a life.

Tang Zhong tried to pull Qiu Yihan up from the ground, but her body was like soaked instant noodles. No matter how hard he tried, she remained limp and unconscious.

He slapped her across the face, his expression ferocious, and roared hoarsely at her, "Qiu Yihan, if you want to live, you have to get up."

If she did not get up, even if Tang Zhong created an opening for her, she would still be unable to run.

Crawl-run?

Of course, if she could truly manage it, Tang Zhong would not criticize the indecorous way she fled. In this world, nothing mattered more than staying alive.

After their brief exchange, Tang Zhong already knew this wicked priest was no ordinary opponent. Not only was he frighteningly fast, but his skill at kicking a flying dagger made the scalp tingle.

If he were alone, Tang Zhong might still have the confidence to stall him or simply flee. But now he could not abandon Qiu Yihan.

Tang Zhong did not know whether the priest’s target was him or Qiu Yihan, or what unspeakable purpose lay behind the ambush.

But he understood clearly that whether the priest attacked him or Qiu Yihan, it would throw him into disorder.

No matter what, he would be forced to split his attention to protect Qiu Yihan.

That was the one thing most forbidden in a battle between experts.

So he had to create an opening for Qiu Yihan to escape, then stay behind and fight the wicked priest to the death—or die himself standing against him. But the first condition was always the same: Qiu Yihan had to leave first.

Whether because Tang Zhong’s voice was too loud or because the slap had landed too hard, after being struck Qiu Yihan reflexively sat up from the ground, though her mind was still absent; tears streamed down her face as she stared at Tang Zhong in a daze.

"Your grandmother’s..." Tang Zhong cursed inwardly. Old lady, you’ve spoiled your child rotten.

"No point wasting effort," said the wicked priest as he drove the blade again and again into the doorframe. Each strike carved deep grooves into the wood, sending splinters flying. "She can’t run. And neither can you."

Tang Zhong no longer bothered trying to wake Qiu Yihan. He rose and faced the priest.

"Can’t I run? Then your target is me, after all. I really don’t understand. Is my little life so valuable that it takes someone like you to deal with me?"

Only then did he see the priest’s face clearly.

It was an utterly ordinary square face, nothing on the whole head that could inspire surprise or seem the least bit strange.

The only memorable thing was this: when he smiled, the skin on his face scarcely moved at all, as though a sheet of false skin had been draped over his features, or a mask placed upon them.

The gray robe he wore was slightly too large, filthy, and splashed with chicken blood, chicken excrement, and black-and-yellow viscera. Sloppy, nauseating, impossible to look at for long.

"Does that matter?" the priest asked with a gloomy smile. "Aren’t you going to die either way?"

"It matters," Tang Zhong said. "Even if I die, I want to die understanding why. Besides, I’m worried you’ve mistaken the person. We’re only students. What life-and-death grudge could a student possibly have with people like you?"

"Now that you put it that way, I’m even less inclined to tell you." The priest’s voice was cold. "I like it when people die without understanding why. Isn’t that the pleasure of killing—its complexity?"

Tang Zhong understood then that the man was nothing but a pervert.

He could even think of a method like strangling a chicken before plucking it; when it came to killing people, his methods must surely be even more varied.

Tang Zhong also knew this fellow had definitely posed as a priest in order to lure him and Qiu Yihan closer, making it easier to strike. He did not believe a man like this would truly serve as a priest in a place like the Heavenly Unity Temple.

The old priest dozing in the sunlight at the gate seemed to have been drugged by him; otherwise, he would not have been sleeping so deeply.

"But what if there are others climbing to the summit?" Tang Zhong thought.

He felt both hope and worry.

If others had made it up here, he hoped they could help carry Qiu Yihan out. Yet what worried him was that if the ones who came were incompetent fools, he would likely have to split his attention again to save them too.

Being a superhero was truly an awful feeling.

"If you’re here for me, then let her go," Tang Zhong said, staring at the priest.

"No." The priest turned, intending to close the rear gate of the temple.

He had thought he could settle things in just a few moves, but Tang Zhong’s toughness forced him to spend a little more effort.

The chance had come.

Tang Zhong’s body suddenly launched forward. He bent low and sprinted toward the man, ready to smash his back with one punch, just as he had smashed the chicken’s body apart moments before.

The priest seemed not to notice at all. Still leaning forward, he used both hands to pull the two door panels back into place. His entire back was wide open, offering no defense.

Tang Zhong’s toes struck the ground, and with a light push he sprang forward again. If not seen with one’s own eyes, it would be impossible to imagine a student running at such astonishing speed.

Closer.

Closer still.

His fist swung up, then came down savagely.

One clean hit, and the priest would surely die.

Whoosh.

The priest still faced away from Tang Zhong. Yet just as Tang Zhong’s fist was about to smash into his back, the priest’s right foot suddenly kicked backward.

It was like a wild donkey’s rear kick, like a vulture standing on one leg—ugly, awkward, but enough to break Tang Zhong into a cold sweat.

As the right leg rose, the gray robe pulled back, revealing a pair of ordinary leather shoes.

And from the heel of one shoe, a black, nearly lightless spike-like blade thrust out toward Tang Zhong’s chest.

A blade hidden in a shoe!

An assassin!

This man was a professional killer!

Tang Zhong had charged too fast; there was no time to stop.

His fist was still aimed at the priest’s heart, but before it could land, he would be pierced by the dagger hidden in the shoe.

The leg is longer than the arm.

The priest had long since calculated this and deliberately lured Tang Zhong into attacking.

A moment of peril.

A thread of life.

A sudden emergency.

At this most critical, most deadly instant, Tang Zhong fell.

Clearly, it was deliberate. It was the only way he could save his life.

He threw his body backward, his chest just barely avoiding the blade on the priest’s foot. His legs shot forward, and like a slippery loach he slid to the priest’s crotch.

Then, while the priest still held that yellow-dog-peeing stance, he drove a fist into the man’s testicles.