Chapter Ninety-Two: The Beauty's Drunkenness

Chapter Ninety-Two: Beauty Drunk on Wine

For a standing man and a woman lying on the ground, the groin is an absolute fatal point.

A standing man cannot take a blow there; a fallen woman cannot be entered there.

If Tang Zhong’s ruthless, underhanded punch had truly landed, the vile priest would likely not only have ceased to be a man, but ceased to be a human being as well. Once stripped of combat power, he would surely have been finished off by Tang Zhong.

When battle reached this point, it came down to reflexes and physical conditioning.

As a seasoned killer, the priest knew from the missed thrust of the blade hidden in his shoe exactly what kind of counterattack Tang Zhong would launch. Feeling a cold wind slash toward his groin and a chill of icy dread rise around his balls, his nerves tensed. The right leg he had lifted high suddenly whipped left.

In that instant, his body shifted, and Tang Zhong’s fist struck the hem of his robe.

From Tang Zhong’s sneak attack from behind, to the priest’s desperate counterstrike, to Tang Zhong’s slip into a low attack at the killer’s groin, the priest twisted his body in response. These movements were executed in the blink of an eye, leaving no room for breath or thought; they were entirely the body’s instinctive reactions, evading or striking.

In the time it took to draw a breath, the two had exchanged blows many times, each unleashing killing moves.

With a carp leap, Tang Zhong sprang up from the ground.

The two faced off again, neither able to gain the upper hand.

“Kid. Looks like I underestimated you after all,” the vile priest said viciously, his gaze venomous.

As though Tang Zhong’s failure to be taken down in a few moves had deeply wronged him.

“I overestimated you,” Tang Zhong said, licking his cracked lips, his tone provocative.

“Hah. Not bad. You even know how to use goading tactics on the battlefield. If I didn’t know you were a student, I’d almost suspect you were in the same line of work as me.” The priest knew Tang Zhong was trying to anger him.

If Tang Zhong rushed him now, he would definitely be ready with a killing move, wouldn’t he?

“Why don’t you think I’m just bluffing, really stalling for time so someone can come rescue us?” Tang Zhong said with a smile. “I’m a student, you’re an assassin. I can live in the sunlight. You can’t be seen; you can’t live in the light—”

Sure enough, the priest’s expression changed at Tang Zhong’s words.

He brandished his knife and walked toward Tang Zhong, hissing, “I have to admit, you’re quite skilled at attacking the mind. You’ve put me in a difficult position. I was going to have some fun with you, but now it seems—this game must end sooner.”

“Go to hell,” Tang Zhong cursed inwardly. He wasn’t going to let this bastard play with him. If anyone was going to play, go play with your own father.

Still, with the priest charging head-on with a dagger in hand, Tang Zhong could not afford to be careless.

He regretted not bringing his own weapon when he left the house.

Whoosh—

The priest slashed at him; Tang Zhong stepped back.

Whoosh—

Another strike. Tang Zhong retreated again.

As the priest advanced, he had no choice but to keep retreating.

Advance again, and he would retreat again.

It looked as though he had no power to resist at all.

When the priest advanced yet again, Tang Zhong could no longer step back.

Because behind him sat Qiu Yi Han on the ground.

He could not drag Qiu Yi Han into the circle of battle. If he did, he would either have to sacrifice her or be forced to hesitate for fear of hurting her. He did not want to die, and he did not want to see her die either.

“Retreat again,” the priest mocked, then suddenly lunged, stabbing at Tang Zhong’s chest.

Sss—

The knife sliced through the air with a faint hiss. If one’s hearing were not keen, it would be nearly impossible to catch.

Simple. Direct. Yet impossible to counter.

Because Tang Zhong had nowhere left to retreat, his only choice was to take the blade head-on.

How could he do that?

No matter how skilled a fighter was, he still feared a kitchen knife. He did not believe his fist was sharper than steel.

Moreover, while avoiding the dagger in the priest’s hand, he also had to watch for the hidden weapon in the priest’s shoe.

This really was a troublesome opponent.

Tang Zhong roared, and instead of falling back, he surged forward.

He exposed his chest completely, without the slightest defense, just as the priest had earlier exposed his back.

His two hands formed fists. One smashed toward the priest’s face; the other remained hidden behind, its target uncertain.

The priest sneered inwardly. So this brat dared to play the empty fortress trick before him? Even at death’s door, he still did not understand his situation.

His chest was wide open, trying to create the illusion of, if you’ve got the guts, come stab me, come on, stab me, stab me, so that the priest would suspect a hidden follow-up. But what follow-up could he possibly have?

The right hand holding the knife lowered slightly and thrust straight for Tang Zhong’s heart.

His left hand clenched into a fist, ready to intercept Tang Zhong’s punch.

Just as Tang Zhong’s fist was about to collide with the dagger, he changed from fist to palm, his wrist flicking as a small grappling move went for the priest’s wrist.

“Cheap trick,” the priest sneered inwardly.

He lifted the short blade, preparing to sever a few of Tang Zhong’s fingers first as a prize.

Tang Zhong was overjoyed.

“Now’s the chance.”

He turned one hundred and eighty degrees, going from facing the priest to having his back to him, throwing his whole body into the priest’s arms.

To an uninformed onlooker, it would look as if Tang Zhong was shamelessly throwing himself into a man’s embrace.

A short weapon shortens the distance, but also increases the risk.

A longer weapon is stronger.

Having a sharp weapon in hand is certainly a good thing. But once Tang Zhong’s body had shrunk into his embrace, that dagger became useless.

Tang Zhong pressed his back against the priest’s chest, one hand locking onto the arm holding the knife, the other elbow driving viciously into the priest’s chest.

Beauty Drunk on Wine!

A very graceful name, yet a brutal killing move.

Bang!

The priest took the elbow full in the chest and staggered backward from the pain.

While the enemy is sick, take his life.

Tang Zhong pressed the advantage. Before the priest could steady himself, he struck again with his elbow.

Bang—

The priest’s throat tasted blood, and a mouthful of it sprayed onto Tang Zhong’s back.

Because Tang Zhong was taller than him, the blood could only spatter onto his clothes. If Tang Zhong had been shorter, or if the priest had risen on tiptoe and tilted his face upward when he spat—this spitting blood business would have been quite troublesome.

In that case, it would likely have splashed onto Tang Zhong’s nape or face instead.

When Tang Zhong’s elbow jabbed backward for the third time, it was caught at once in the priest’s well-prepared palm.

Tang Zhong held the priest’s right arm; the priest gripped Tang Zhong’s left elbow. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, the priest’s front clinging to Tang Zhong’s back. The posture was as fiery as it was ambiguous.

If the priest had extended his tongue to lick Tang Zhong’s neck, or blown a breath into his ear—of course, he would need to stand on tiptoe to do it—then the spectacular scene all the little fangirls had been waiting for, a rough man versus a pretty boy, would have erupted in passionate style.

Unfortunately, this was war.

A battle of life and death.

After repeatedly suffering losses, the priest was both ashamed and enraged.

His right foot scraped backward three times against the ground, and the hidden spike that had originally protruded from the back of his shoe slid to the toe.

He kicked at the back of Tang Zhong’s leg, intending to pierce straight through the calf.

Tang Zhong was shocked. He threw his entire body weight onto the priest, then vaulted both legs high into the air.

Smack—

Unable to withstand that tremendous force, the priest’s body toppled backward.

Then the two bodies rolled together through the courtyard, smashing through the fence wall and hurtling toward the cliff beyond the rear yard.

Thud!

Tang Zhong’s head slammed heavily against a jagged rock, making stars explode before his eyes; he nearly blacked out on the spot.

The priest’s forehead was also repeatedly battered by stones, blood streaming down, making him look equally miserable.

When they finally managed to halt their momentum, they were already at the very edge of the cliff.

The mountain wind howled in their ears. Many stones, large and small, that had rolled out with them rattled and bounced over the edge, then fell away without any echo for a long time.

Tang Zhong was beneath; the priest lay on top of him.

The priest’s hands clutched the dagger, desperately trying to drive it into Tang Zhong’s neck and slit his throat.

Tang Zhong braced against the priest’s hands with both arms, exerting all his strength to shift the blade aside.

Closer.

Closer and closer.

It always took less effort to press down from above.

“Die,” the priest snarled, his expression savage.

Bang!

The back of his head was suddenly struck hard, and his body dropped rapidly downward.

Tang Zhong was startled. He tilted his head left, narrowly avoiding the dagger’s thrust. Then, while the priest’s center of gravity was unstable, he forced his own strength through, reversed the blade’s angle, and stabbed it into the priest’s eye.

“Ahhh—”

The priest let out a dreadful scream.

The blade had pierced his left eye, the tip breaking through the eyeball. One eye was ruined, and blood poured out like a dam bursting, streaming all over Tang Zhong’s face and body.

“Ah—”

The priest screamed again, even more miserably than before.

Tang Zhong heaved hard and yanked the dagger from the eye socket.

Then, with a rasping sound, he stabbed through the eyeball of the priest’s right eye as well.

Only the dead are safe.

In countless films and dramas, the hero knocks down the villain at the last moment, then, overcome by conscience, decides to spare him—only for the villain to suddenly leap up and stab him to death, or stab his son, daughter, wife, lover, father, mother, or other loved ones to death. Tang Zhong would not make such a ridiculous mistake.

With both eyes destroyed, the priest had already been driven mad by pain.

He no longer cared about anything, clamping both arms around Tang Zhong’s body and rolling desperately toward the cliff’s edge.

He intended to perish together with Tang Zhong.

He wanted to die. Tang Zhong did not.

His right leg moved between the priest’s legs, then suddenly drove upward.

This was another variation of Beauty Drunk on Wine.

Bang—

Tang Zhong thought he heard something crack.

At the final moment, he still burst the priest’s balls.

Bang—

Another knee strike.

Bang bang bang—

Tang Zhong’s right leg kept straightening and bending, over and over again, hammering the priest’s vulnerable groin.

The priest’s grip on Tang Zhong weakened and weakened, and his body grew weaker as well.

Tang Zhong tensed his body, then suddenly increased his force.

Bang—

Like a stone flung by a trebuchet, like a firecracker blasted skyward by gunpowder, the priest’s body flew through the air, sailing over the endless cliff behind Tang Zhong—

A graceful pose, a hideous face.

Today I am a little tired, so there are only two updates.