Chapter Ninety-One: A Grudge Is Born

The two of them, hearing Xuhua’s words, both felt a little ill at ease. However annoying Xuhua might be, he had not forgotten that he was still Chinese; faced with a formidable enemy, he had chosen to drive off the invaders first and settle their private grievances afterward.

“Master, please come up the mountain with me.” Mu Chen knew that Xuhua was a master who had passed through heavenly tribulation. Though injured now, he was still more than capable of dealing with those who had not crossed that threshold.

Zhou Yi’s opinion of Xuhua had improved somewhat, but he still could not rid himself of his disgust. He did not answer him, merely strode ahead.

As for Baozi, his situation was already dire. Although he could see Kameda’s figure, Kameda was simply too fast. After a flurry of attacks, Baozi’s defense grew disordered, and several wounds had already opened on his body. His self-healing ability was remarkable, but the blade cutting into flesh still brought pain beyond evasion. The longer he fought, the more frantic he became, and the more chaotic his movements grew.

The strategy Zhou Yi had originally devised, using one’s strengths against the enemy’s weaknesses, not only went unused on their side, but had instead been mastered by the Japanese ninja with practiced ease.

A flash of cold light, and once again a blade aura struck his body, tearing a gash a full foot long across Baozi’s chest.

Baozi’s eyes nearly split with fury as he roared. He did not care that the samurai sword had not yet fully swept across his chest; he charged straight at Kameda. In doing so, it was as though he had hurled himself onto the blade. The edge cut deep into his body, and had his ribs not blocked it at the front, this blow would have cleaved him cleanly in two.

By then, Baozi’s eyes were burning with a bloodthirsty light. There was only Kameda in his vision, and only one thought in his mind: to make Kameda burst apart.

His left hand clamped directly onto the samurai sword, preventing Kameda from retreating, while his single club swung in a full circle and slammed straight toward Kameda’s head.

When had Kameda ever seen such a suicidal style of fighting? He had already been stunned by the killing intent radiating from Baozi. With the club bearing down, he did not dodge, and the blow struck squarely at the base of Kameda’s ear.

Kameda was a man who had survived countless battles and killed many, but he had never met anyone like Baozi. Covered in blade wounds, the man still fought with all his might, determined to kill the enemy at any cost, even if it meant mutual destruction.

Kameda had no time to think further, because the tearing pain in the left side of his head told him that the man before him still had fighting strength. He snatched another pill from his chest and hurled it in front of him, vanishing from sight.

Baozi shook his head hard, for his mind was already growing muddled. He tried to clear the blur before his eyes by forcing his head to move.

Another flash of cold light came, striking his shoulder. Baozi neither dodged nor flinched; his left hand seized the samurai sword once more. The club swung again, smashing into Kameda’s head a second time.

“Stop, stop at once. We concede!” Zhou Yi, hurrying back, saw the scene clearly. He knew Baozi had already reached the brink of collapse; if this continued, one careless moment would cost Baozi his life.

The moment Kameda heard Zhou Yi call for surrender, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he toppled stiffly backward, fainting dead away.

Seeing Kameda brought down by his own hand, Baozi yanked the samurai sword free with his left hand and threw it to the ground. He raised the club and brought it crashing down toward Kameda.

A gunshot rang out. The bullet struck Baozi squarely in the chest. Baozi looked down at the wound, but his hand did not pause; with one blow he smashed Kameda so thoroughly that his skull burst open, and it was plain he could not live.

Seeing that Kameda was dead, Baozi grinned again. “Heh... heh...” After two raspy laughs, he collapsed directly onto the arena floor.

Seeing Baozi fall, Zhou Yi turned to the man who had fired the shot, and his eyes filled instantly with bloodshot rage. He stamped once on the ground and launched himself straight at the Japanese soldier.

Everyone’s attention had been fixed on the platform. Who could have imagined that Zhou Yi would strike from below? By the time he reached the man, they finally reacted, but it was already too late.

Lihuo pierced the shooter’s chest. Still unsatisfied, Zhou Yi seized the man by the collar with his left hand, pulled the blade free, and stabbed again.

The water-splitting trident had three blades, the middle one longest and the two side blades slightly shorter. This second thrust created three bloodied holes at once, driving clean through the body; the blade emerged from the back slick with blood.

Two thrusts, six holes. How could the man possibly survive?

Only then did the Japanese side react. Several samurai drew their swords, points leveled directly at Zhou Yi. Minagawa Inshita even pulled out a pistol and pressed it against the back of Zhou Yi’s head.

“He is a samurai of our great Japanese empire. Since you killed him, you must pay for his life,” Minagawa Inshita said, and was about to pull the trigger.

“Wait.” Yuan Tingyu stopped him at the critical moment and stepped directly over to stand before Minagawa Inshita.

“Mr. Minagawa, I’m afraid this is not appropriate,” Yuan Tingyu said coldly.

Minagawa Inshita had come to Maoshan for the contest and had won two of three matches, yet three men had died in the victories. How could he swallow such a humiliation?

He could only be described as furious and discomposed. Turning to face Yuan Tingyu, he glared at him angrily. “What exactly does Master Yuan find inappropriate?”

“Casualties in the arena are part of the contest and no one may be blamed for them. But the gun you are pointing now is aimed at a distinguished guest of my Maoshan sect. I ask that you lower it at once and apologize to Master Zhou,” Yuan Tingyu said icily.

With a gun at the back of his head, Zhou Yi would have had a way to escape even without Yuan Tingyu’s intervention. Since Yuan Tingyu had already spoken up and he knew he was in no danger, he made no move, wanting to see how Yuan Tingyu would handle the matter.

“That is well said. Struggling on the platform, life and death are no one else’s concern. But was not Oyano killed by your hand, Master Yuan? That golden needle is still in his head. I hardly think Master Yuan can deny it,” Minagawa Inshita said.

Yuan Tingyu gave a cold laugh. “Who said he is dead? That golden needle is a treasured relic of my Maoshan sect. To use it on trash like him is to insult the golden needle passed down from our forefather.”

As he spoke, Yuan Tingyu turned his wrist, releasing a faint surge of spiritual energy, and directly drew the golden needle from Oyano’s temple. With a flick of his hand, he caught it between his fingers and tucked it into his sleeve pouch.

Once the needle was withdrawn, Oyano slowly opened his eyes. Looking around at the crowd, his gaze was utterly vacant.

“Your man used a firearm to injure others; he got what he deserved. Now, Mr. Minagawa, may I ask you to remove the pistol from Master Zhou?” Yuan Tingyu said, a faint cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Even though Oyano was alive, he would be a fool from then on. The golden needle had pierced the temple and damaged his soul; no doctor, however skilled, could cure him.

Minagawa Inshita ground his teeth so hard they seemed to creak. At this point, he was like a mute swallowing bitter medicine—unable to speak of his suffering.

Zhou Yi swept his gaze over the Japanese ninja group, the same icy smile remaining on his lips. Knowing that Minagawa Inshita’s gun would never fire now, he paid no heed to the samurai swords leveled at him by the ninjas and turned back toward the arena.

Baozi was still lying up there. If anything happened to Baozi, none of the Japanese present would get away.

...

A plea for flowers on Monday, roar. I’ve been running between driving school and paperwork these past few days, so busy I’m dying! But I’m still updating without interruption, so on that account, please give me a flower.