Chapter 24: Striking Back

With a clang, he threw down the long saber in his hand. Yuanye said, “If that's the case, hurry up and prepare pen and paper for me. It’s just a manual, nothing that important. If you’d said so earlier, I wouldn’t have killed your men.”

His nonchalant demeanor made the stronghold chief gnash his teeth in hatred. Yet, he was skilled at enduring humiliation; suppressing his arrogance, he replied respectfully, “Young hero, please follow me.”

Yuanye sauntered over at a leisurely pace, his whole body relaxed and unguarded, as though he completely trusted the chief.

But when he was within ten feet, Yuanye’s expression grew hesitant again. He said warily, “You’re not trying to trick me, are you? I’ll have you know, my master is waiting for me in Xiangyang. If I don’t show up tomorrow, there will be nowhere for you to hide, not even to the ends of the earth.”

The chief's face twitched, cursing inwardly. He forced a smile. “Rest assured, young hero, how would I dare deceive you? Besides, once I've learned your manual, we’ll be fellow disciples—why would I harm you?”

“True, you wouldn’t dare,” Yuanye replied arrogantly.

But as he uttered the word “dare” and continued to approach, his heartbeat thundered even louder with each step.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The chief felt it too and glanced at Yuanye’s face. Noticing the tension in his muscles, he assumed Yuanye was simply nervous.

With less than five steps between them, Yuanye’s demeanor turned sharp. He planted his foot and thrust out his right palm, launching a surprise attack.

“I knew you’d never surrender so easily!” roared the chief, who’d been watching Yuanye closely. Both his hands shot out at Yuanye: one strike aimed at his face, the other at his heart like a striking snake.

But Yuanye’s attack was unstoppable—he charged forward with no regard for defense. In the blink of an eye, the two crossed paths.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They clashed several times. Yuanye, leveraging his status, moved swiftly, using fists, kicks, palms, and every technique he knew. In the end, he even fought barehanded with blade and sword, unleashing all his skills.

The chief, too, could no longer fight as easily as before. His hands whirled like vipers, his fists howling through the air, the force radiating outward.

When he saw the youth could fight with sword and saber, displaying terrifying skill, the chief leaped to a corner and grabbed a thick bronze staff, displaying a formidable staff technique.

Though he’d only cultivated a faint inner energy, Yuanye’s true power was suppressed by the snake venom, his internal strength all but gone.

With each blow from the bronze staff, Yuanye felt his insides violently shaken, his head dizzy, his chest tight, his blood roiling.

After dozens of exchanges, Yuanye had exhausted all the martial arts he knew. The chief, sensing Yuanye’s predicament, grew overjoyed, his strikes even more ferocious.

Yuanye blocked another mighty staff strike with his Mountain Shaking Palm, but the chief didn’t retreat. Instead, he raised his staff high, hoping to end it in one blow.

Seeing such arrogance, the chief finally exposed an opening. The weariness vanished from Yuanye’s eyes, replaced by a dazzling white light.

Forming his fingers into a sword, Yuanye stamped the ground. With a thunderous boom, he shot toward the chief like an arrow loosed from a bow.

The chief was no fool. Seeing Yuanye’s move, he was shocked, but had no time to defend—he simply swung the staff at Yuanye’s back. At the same time, he crouched, his chest and abdomen swelling as he hastily forced out his Toad Skill.

Bang!

In a flash, they crashed together and immediately separated.

“Cough, cough!”

Spitting blood, Yuanye slowly turned. The chief stood ten feet behind him.

After a few heartbeats, the chief collapsed heavily to the ground, dying with eyes wide open. He struggled to look back, asking, “What…what martial art was that?”

“Telling you makes no difference. You won’t live to use it.” Yuanye answered hoarsely, staring into his eyes. Though he’d won, he was gravely wounded—his back bruised black, his insides battered.

“You…you…how could I lose? I was invincible…destined to rule the world…” With a final, fevered outburst, the chief died, his rage unspent.

Only then did the faint blue glow on Yuanye’s left hand slowly fade.

Should I tell you I know chakra?

Looking at the chief’s unseeing eyes, Yuanye’s lips curled into a faint smile.

—

“Young hero, congratulations! You’ve finally slain that villain!” As Yuanye wiped the blood from his mouth, Skinny Monkey rushed into the courtyard, excitement written all over his face.

Yuanye paid him no mind. “Search thoroughly,” he ordered. “See what else he’s got on him and in the other rooms.”

Yuanye strode into the chief’s room. After searching, he finally found a hidden compartment beneath the bed.

Opening it, he discovered jars and bottles—most of them poisons, clearly concocted by the chief himself.

Taking them all out, Yuanye tapped the floorboards. Sure enough, there was a hollow sound.

He smiled to himself, thinking, “Good thing I’ve watched enough dramas—there’s always a second mechanism.”

Lifting the bottom of the secret compartment, he found a small white jade porcelain bottle—the very “Heaven-Heart Detox Pill” his master had given him before descending the mountain.

There were also four booklets. Yuanye flipped through them: “Toad Skill,” “Spirit Snake Fist,” “Spirit Snake Staff”—all once the signature techniques of the Western Venom, Ouyang Feng.

The last booklet detailed Ouyang Feng’s methods for raising, breeding, and using venomous snakes—enough to make Yuanye shudder.

Reading it, he realized the snake that poisoned him was bred from dozens of venomous species, its toxicity extreme—enough to kill an ordinary man on contact, and even suppress the inner strength of a martial artist.

He thought, “Luckily, those two snakes were just born and hadn’t yet reached the fearsome level of Ouyang Feng’s famous staff snakes. Otherwise, I’d be done for.”

Pocketing the manuals, Yuanye left the room.

Skinny Monkey had already gathered a pile of silver notes, several chests of gold, silver, and jewels, and a few scattered low-level martial arts manuals, like “Five Tigers Sever the Gate.”

Yuanye frowned. “Is this all?”

“Yes, young hero. I checked everywhere, inside and out. There are still a few things in the secret room I couldn’t carry, but everything else is here,” Skinny Monkey replied, eyes shining with greed. Clearly, this was more wealth than he’d ever seen; even his breath seemed to reek of gold.

Yuanye considered a moment. “Next, deal with the men outside, then stand guard at the door. Do your job well and you’ll be rewarded.”

“Yes, young hero—I’ll handle it!” Skinny Monkey replied at once, eyes still glued to the treasure.

As night deepened, Yuanye entered the room, sat on the bed, swallowed three “Heaven-Heart Detox Pills,” and began to channel his energy to expel the poison.

Two hours later, the night was still pitch-black; it was the deep hours before dawn. On the bed, Yuanye’s face shifted between pale and blue.

Pfft!

He spat out a mouthful of black blood, then opened his eyes—twin beams of white light piercing the darkness.

Bang!

A powerful wave of energy swept through the room, sending everything flying, the door rattling on its hinges.

Skinny Monkey, standing guard outside, turned ashen at the sound, any rebellious thoughts instantly extinguished. He stood straight, not daring to move.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

The bell tolled, shattering the stronghold’s peace. A bandit, woken by the noise, was about to curse, but his companion stopped him. In a rush, he remembered: this was the bell summoning all to the main hall. Anyone not present in fifteen minutes could prepare for the worst.

From above, the entire valley looked like an anthill—hundreds spilled from their quarters toward the hall.

“Skinny Monkey, why are you ringing the bell? Where’s the chief?”

“Yeah, you brat! If you’re messing with us, we’ll make you eat dirt!”

Over a hundred rough bandits entered the hall to see only Skinny Monkey standing there, no sign of the chief or any leaders. They shouted and cursed.

Surrounded by knife- and club-wielding brutes, Skinny Monkey’s legs trembled. But then he remembered he had powerful backing now—why be afraid?

He straightened his back, put on a fierce face, and shouted, “Anyone who wants to live, quiet down! Anyone who doesn’t, try yelling again!”

Stunned, the crowd went silent, exchanging puzzled looks. This weakling who usually hid in the cells—where did his nerve come from? Had he drunk horse urine?

For a moment, the air was deathly still. Then a burly, bearded man realized he’d been cowed by this slip of a boy. Enraged, he stepped forward, raising his fan-like hand to slap Skinny Monkey. “You brat, how dare you make a fool of me!”

“Master, save me!” Skinny Monkey, seeing the enormous hand, ducked and shouted toward the back hall.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for pain that never came. Opening them slowly, he saw a tall shadow looming over him, motionless.

“Zhao Hu, what are you doing? Hurry up and deal with him!” someone behind him yelled, slapping Zhao Hu on the back.

Smack!

With that slap, Zhao Hu finally moved—but not forward. With a thud, he collapsed backward.

“What happened—?”

“Damn, is he dead?”

The crowd surged forward and saw him lying there, eyes wide, bloodshot, utterly lifeless.

They exchanged glances, then stared in shock at Skinny Monkey, who looked just as stunned.

After a moment, Skinny Monkey recovered. This must be the young master’s doing! How lucky I am to have found such a master—now I can finally hold my head high!

He straightened, face proud, and barked, “You country bumpkins—let’s see who dares shout now!”

He spun around, instantly changing his expression to the utmost humility. “Welcome, young master!”

The crowd’s eyes turned to the back hall, curiosity burning. Who was this person? Where was the chief? Why hadn’t he appeared?

Step. Step. Step.

A group emerged from the rear hall, led by a youth in white, his long hair loose, his bearing graceful as jade. Only his eyes, pure white, gave him an eerie appearance.

Behind him walked two towering men—Bear One and Bear Two, the stronghold’s lieutenants. The crowd brightened; their pillars of support had arrived.

But the next moment, their faces turned ashen with terror. For Bear One and Bear Two each dragged a body—those of the chief and Mad Wolf, the most recognizable men in the stronghold, both clearly dead.

Every eye fixed on the youth at the front. They all knew—if anyone here could have killed the chief and Mad Wolf, it could only be this boy.

Under their tense gazes, Yuanye strolled to the tiger-skin chair, sat at the head of the hall, and swept his gaze over the assembled bandits.

With two heavy thuds, Bear One and Bear Two threw the corpses before the crowd and silently took their places at Yuanye’s sides.

Skinny Monkey hurried over, grinning obsequiously like a true lackey.

“All right, Skinny Monkey, go call everyone in the stronghold to be identified. If anyone has a history of murder or evil deeds, Bear One and Bear Two, deal with them,” Yuanye said lazily, lounging in the chair.

“Yes, young master,” the three replied, bowing deeply, not daring to show the slightest disrespect.

Even Bear Two, usually so brash, now behaved himself—having been beaten again by Yuanye when brought from the prison, he’d finally learned his lesson.