Chapter 36: The Eight Extremes Steady the Universe (Revised)

Ling Chi stood firm, neither dodging nor flinching; he believed the human skull was the hardest part of the body—he refused to believe anyone could shatter it with a single punch.

In an instant, his body turned golden, cloaked in the Thunderbolt Golden Body.

[Taiyi Calamity Blade, Reverse Slash]

The saber swept upward, catching the chieftain between his legs. The chieftain’s body darkened, his face flushing red, his posture contorted, but his fist’s momentum did not waver. The descending fist struck Ling Chi squarely atop his head.

A metallic clang resounded, as though gold and iron had collided.

“This boy’s body is formidable,” the chieftain thought, shaken to his core.

The surviving henchmen gasped. Their chieftain was a master of the Qi Sea realm, yet this youth had withstood his blow.

The chieftain’s body erupted in fiery light as he drew a jet-black longsword and charged at Ling Chi.

Ling Chi shook off the blow, then sprang forward.

Thunder crackled, enveloping the space around him. He and the chieftain exchanged blows at dizzying speed, colliding a hundred times in the blink of an eye. The black sword left afterimages, but Ling Chi’s saber intercepted every strike with uncanny precision. The duel intensified, until those watching could no longer distinguish their forms—only the color of their spiritual energy marked friend from foe.

The vice-chieftain, revived by the henchmen, saw the scene before him and knew his defeat was not unjust—though perhaps a bit hasty. He was, after all, at the eighth stage of Vein Opening, yet could not withstand a single punch.

Suddenly, a violent thunderclap erupted in the arena. Two figures shot toward the crowd like lightning. One blade grazed the vice-chieftain’s nose and embedded itself in a pillar.

He broke out in a cold sweat.

The two figures separated.

Ling Chi’s clothes were tattered, his body streaked with sword wounds that revealed crystalline flesh. His saber was broken in two.

The chieftain was scorched black, arcs of electricity danced across his skin, blood spurted from five or six gashes, and his black sword was halved—the other half lodged in the skull of an unlucky henchman.

Both men gasped for air.

Since breaking through to the Qi Sea realm, the chieftain had never imagined being battered by a Vein Opening cultivator. This youth’s lightning arts defied all reason.

Ling Chi stared at the broken saber in his hand, fury blazing within him. His longtime companion had fallen here—the chieftain deserved to die.

He dropped the shattered blade, tore off his ragged shirt, revealing his powerful torso.

Ling Chi clenched his fists. Now, it was time for close combat.

Seizing the initiative, Ling Chi lunged like a starving tiger, hurling a punch at the chieftain. The chieftain discarded his broken sword and struck with his palm.

They grappled fiercely, their forms shifting constantly. Ling Chi, shielded by the force of extreme Yang, was impervious to the chieftain’s flames. The chieftain, however, had been traumatized by Ling Chi’s thunder attacks, and dared not let him approach easily.

Ling Chi exploited this, sinking his waist and rotating his hips, charging forward.

[Eight Extremes, Iron Mountain Lean]

His iron shoulder crashed into the chieftain, launching him into the air.

Ling Chi flashed after him.

Pivoting on his left foot, he swung his right in a wide arc, like drawing a bow.

Boom!

The chieftain’s downward momentum was halted, and he was sent flying again.

Ling Chi moved with the speed of the wind, slicing in at an angle.

[Eight Extremes, Cannon Lifting Technique]

[Standing Sky Cannon]

His fist, like a furious dragon surging from the sea, crashed onto the chieftain’s spine.

A crack—bones snapping—his spine shattered.

Ling Chi seized the chieftain’s arms, locking elbows to knees, shoulders to hips, sinking shoulder and dropping elbow.

[Eight Extremes, Tyrant Breaks Reins]

The chieftain’s limbs were all broken. Ling Chi tossed him to the ground.

“So you thought you could withstand eight of my moves!”

He then turned to the vice-chieftain and the remaining henchmen, a tiger glancing back, striking terror into their hearts.

“Don’t bother begging—it’s useless. I came to wipe you out, just as you did when you slaughtered villages.”

Ling Chi shot forward, knees bent, chest drawn in, straight toward the vice-chieftain.

The vice-chieftain’s face twisted with rage, veins bulging, as he swung his blade.

Ling Chi dodged effortlessly.

[Eight Extremes, Gate Opening Cannon]

His crimson fist slammed into the vice-chieftain’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Ling Chi pursued.

[Eight Extremes, Left and Right Hard Gate Opening]

Both palms struck the temples. The vice-chieftain’s eyes rolled back—dead on the spot.

Ling Chi leaped knee-first into the crowd, battering and breaking, striking fiercely.

“Careful!”

“Help!”

“Run!!!”

The henchmen scattered in panic. Ling Chi hunted them down one by one, his fists, elbows, knees, and feet all lethal.

He found the two who had buried him alive.

“Remember me? I ought to thank you. Though you buried me, you left me a sliver of hope. Next time, learn from me—leave no survivors. Farewell!”

Ling Chi truly felt grateful; without their misguided mercy, he likely would not have survived.

He did not torture them, simply dispatched them with a few dozen blows.

In less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick, only Ling Chi and the chieftain remained breathing.

Ling Chi dragged the chieftain clear of the broken limbs, set him in a chair, washed his hands, and casually grabbed some beef from the table to eat.

“You still have beef here? Not bad, not bad,” Ling Chi remarked.

“Chieftain, I’ll ask, you answer. Answer honestly. When I said I wanted to flay you alive, I wasn’t joking.”

Ling Chi took a cloth tube from his shredded shirt, untied it, and revealed its contents before the chieftain.

Six or seven small, exquisite knives, none larger than a thumb.

The chieftain sucked in a breath, still unable to recall where he had offended such a harbinger of death.

“Apologies, time is short. Some tools are hard to find, and the county coroner isn’t here, so I’ll have to make do with these.”

Ling Chi wiped his mouth after finishing the beef.

“First, let me introduce myself. My name is Ling Chi. You may not recognize it, but does Ling Family Village outside Crane County ring any bells?” Ling Chi spoke slowly.

The chieftain’s pupils contracted. He had slaughtered many villages, but remembered Ling Family Village for its spirited, fair maidens. This was retribution!

“My first question: why did you massacre Ling Family Village?” Ling Chi asked.

“So you’re a survivor from Ling Family Village. The girls there were pretty, but couldn’t handle much. Before I was satisfied, they died. I handed them to my brothers for some fun while they were still warm. Who knows if your sisters were among them? I won’t tell you, choke on it. Flay me alive if you dare!”

The chieftain tried to goad Ling Chi, hoping for a swift death. He had pillaged so many places, he hardly remembered Ling Family Village.

Ling Chi sighed, gagged him with a cloth—not for fear of curses, but to prevent him biting his tongue.

He fetched a wooden cross, stripped the chieftain, and nailed him in place.

He bound him with a fishing net.

“You may not know, but I’ve trained especially for this, to deal with villains like you. I have no interest in your secrets—I simply want to flay you alive. Take your secrets to the grave.”

The chieftain stared at the small, exquisite torture tools. At this point, his bravado had faded; his eyes flickered, calculating his options.