Chapter 537: Chapter 537
Shitty mongrel... Yes, they were indeed mutts.
They had canine skulls, razor fangs, reverse-jointed thighs and shanks, hooklike talons, and half-humanoid torsos. They looked somewhat like werewolves, or rather kobolds. Calling them mongrels fit perfectly.
The burly leader of nearly a hundred dark creatures stood before the lone exit in the gorge. It was a burly werewolf a full head larger than the rest. But at that moment, its sickly, blood-thirsty grin froze, the savage curl of its lips drooping .
The mad red threads in its eyes faded, leaving them abruptly clear.
"Heheheh..." The werewolf chief gave an embarrassed chuckle and tried to shuffle backward.
Unexpectedly its whole body could not budge, as though solidified in the air. Its mind flashed with frantic danger signals, as it tried to plot escape. Yet every cell in its body shook in paralyzed terror.
"Damn it! Move! Move! Move for me!!!" The chief madly tried to shift its thighs but only made its knees quiver.
It shook like an epileptic, racked with agony. It had been locked in place, pinned by the Qi and presence of more than seventy combat artists!
The air around it seemed to have set not as glue but concrete about to harden! A dreadful Will layered over itself seventy-odd times. No one had ever "enjoyed" such treatment!
It was like seventy giant hands from the sky pressing down on its shoulders with monstrous strength. A slight squeeze would pulp it into mince.
"This isn't the plan at all! Why did these Covert Martial Arts sects mobilize together? Fuck, fuck! We're finished!" The chief roared inwardly, its mind clouded with terror and regret. It never should have believed the Gate Organization's pack of lies.
A lone small sect was a tasty lump of meat. But this was more than a dozen sects; practically the entire martial world was here!
The drool-worthy morsel had transformed into a savage beast, while it had become prey to be butchered! Its situation now differed little from fish on a cutting board.
"Clear away these blockers!"
"They've already wasted a whole minute of ours."
"Hideous form... The more I look, the more they disgust me!"
"Delivered punching posts! I just refined a little killing move during the exchange, so it’s the perfect time for some testing. I'll take the biggest one. Brothers, don't fight me for it..."
"Elder Linqi, I'm curious about these half-wolves too. Perhaps my Cloud Dog Fist can gain new inspiration from them. Let's compete fairly..."
"You snooze, you lose! Hahaha..."
An elder let loose hearty laughter as he sprang forward. He traced a long arc in the air, falling like a meteor into the dark creature ranks.
He launched a one-sided slaughter at once.
"Wolves or dogs? Hmm, likely wolves..."
"My conjured Cloud Dog won't eat its own kind, but there's no issue if it's wolves."
A three-or-four-meter hound made of white mist landed on the ground and charged. The Cloud Dog elder was the first to charge in before the many combat artists' eyes. His Qi swelled, shaping the misty air into a fierce hound.
One bite severed three werewolves at the waist. Mangled limbs and shredded organs splattered down.
The hound chewed happily. Blood filled the gaps in its teeth, and its hazy eyes turned scarlet at once. It was a slaughter. There was nothing else to comment on. It was simple steam-rollering, almost a stress-relief game for the crowd.
The combat artists who had been excited for days over the fist technique armoury news could vent at last. In that respect, these lupine dark creatures held some purpose after all, though they wasted about five minutes of the party's time.
Five minutes later, the boulders blocking the gorge were cleared, revealing a broad road. The black convoy rolled through unimpeded, wheels tracing ruts filled with scarlet slurry.
Behind them, broken corpses lay strewn in wretched death. The only seemingly intact body was that dark creature chief.
It knelt on both knees, back straight, eyes staring ahead in terror. Blood had dried from its seven orifices, etching winding red tracks on his skin. The werewolf chief had been killed by seventy overlapping waves of combat artist Qi.
Elder Linqi and the Cloud Dog elder had not even struck him, but his organs had suffered layered trauma and massive internal bleeding. Seventy-odd tides of presence bore forceful, keen, even berserk martial wills.
They had smashed its consciousness like bamboo under an axe. The werewolf chief’s brain had simply halted. Naturally, this was a trivial interlude for the convoy. The party didn’t meet any more blind fools.
They traveled smoothly to Huaifeng County's coastal district. The local Covert Martial Arts sects welcomed them warmly and had long prepared quarters.
Time flashed by, until it was August 8.
The seventy-five member strong expedition officially set off. Aside from the essential crew and guides, everyone aboard was a combat artist Covert Martial Arts expert.
It was an extraordinarily formidable force.
Swish, swash... Swish, swash...
The tide washed up against a white pier as the morning sun climbed. Scattered gold rippled spread over the water. Seagulls glided overhead, crying in the breeze. A fleet slipped out of the harbor and steered away. Two tall-masted warships drew long wakes across the water, rolling onward.
On the deck, Cassius stood at the prow clad in a black coat. The salty damp wind lifted his golden forelocks as he narrowed his eyes and gazed across the limitless sea.
Ahead of him somewhere lay a mysterious archipelago holding both peril and opportunity. His goal was clear—the Southern Dipper Waterbird Fist, the final piece to complete his Southern Dipper Covert Martial Inheritance.
After that, his three personas and three core principles would settle into perfect balance! That would bring him immense benefit. He had no hard evidence, just a random intuition. But for extreme combat artists whose Will of the Fist neared the summit, intuition was often truer than visible facts, especially when the intuition concerned oneself.
"I still don't know what form the Southern Cross Fist takes with seventy-seven acupoints. Logically, Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, Southern Dipper Sonic Snake Fist, and Southern Dipper Waterbird Fist would already cover the paths of Dominator Fist, Holy Fist, and Ultimate Fist..." Cassius pondered, eyes half-shut.
"Whatever. For me, the Waterbird Fist is the last visible puzzle piece. The fusion of Red Falcon, Sonic Snake, and Waterbird would be perfection. Southern Cross is impressive, but isn't it only seventy-seven acupoints anyway? If I push these three Southern Dipper fists to the extreme, I will have one hundred and ninety eight acupoints across my body. And just imagine the extreme Force they merge into! Heheheh..." He suddenly let out a faint laugh.
The sound echoed across the ocean. At the same time, farther out to sea than the combat artist fleet, another party had set sail early aboard a merchant vessel.
Top-tier knight-level Hellsings stood on the deck with grotesque weapons, casting icy glances over the waves. They were wrapped in a unique dark aura. In a corner, two presences of exceptional strength stood silent watch.
The one on the left wore rugged metal armor with a torn black cloak still stained by blood. A massive helm hid his face, leaving only two twisted horns jutting upward. They seemed wooden yet were harder and sharper than steel. Spiral grooves climbed them, faintly gleaming golden. They hinted at other mysterious uses.
A slimmer and shorter figure in a tailcoat stood next to him. He was actually a one meter eighty five but just seemed shorter beside the nearly two meter fifty horned giant. He was dressed as a classic gentleman, and looked like an attractive man in his forties. He leaned on a purple-veined cane, a bone ring gleaming on his middle finger.
These two were clearly the leaders of the Black Rain Manor party. They were Tyrant Black Dragon and Ripple Master.
The sea wind blew against the rail.
"Glenn, your purpose on the Eternal Archipelago isn't just that so-called ruin, is it..." Tyrant Black Dragon grumbled.
"Of course not," the Ripple Master replied, flashing white teeth. "You know, before Black Rain chose me, I was a Ripple Practitioner hunted by my own kin, heheh..."
Tyrant Black Dragon added expressionlessly, "A Ripple Practitioner who bears the previous leader's supreme bone ring."
He paused. "So you want us to lend a hand and crown you leader of the Ripple Practitioners? That's no trifle. You must offer heavier stakes."
"No, no. You needn't act. Just act as deterrence, as planned. As for the rest, that will be done by me—and it." Smiling faintly, he drew a small sculpted white bone tree from his breast.
The bone-tree's tip glimmered, as though answering something afar. It winked like a star in a black sky. He gazed at it deeply, then slowly clenched his right fist. The bone ring on that middle finger burst with a lightning blue-violet glow. It was a power unlike any ordinary bone ring!
"When I succeed, I'll use the Ripple Practitioners' influence across these islands and the Hongli southeast to repay you." Ripple Master repeated his promise to the Tyrant Black Dragon, wearing a flawless smile.
Yet beneath that mask lay deeper things. Why was the Eternal Archipelago called "eternal"?
The Ripple Master's first aim was the ancient ruin. The second, known to his companions, was vengeance and control of the Ripple Practitioners. But the third only he knew, an absolute secret. A chance at immortality!
On the boundless sea, aboard another vessel in another region, three figures quietly felt the sea wind dance across the deck.
On the left stood Whale King Arlington, silent since Cassius defeated him. His wounds had healed, yet his left arm was simply gone. Could Arlington not restore the limb? Was the Gate Organization unwilling to heal him?
Whale King Arlington had refused help; he kept the lost arm on purpose. He would forever remember the agony of being steamrolled by Cassius! He would forever remember the moment his Dominator Fist path had been utterly smashed!
Acknowledged shame breeds courage later. Arlington had suffered a heavy blow, yet his will did not falter. He recognized the vast gap between himself and Cassius. After beating him, Cassius would surely grow stronger and stride further on the path of the Dominator Fist.
But did that mean Arlington had utterly failed and must despair?
He had known failure before treading the Dominator Fist path. He had walked decades of hardship to stand where he was now. The title of fist technique master was no boast; it had been forged through storms of blood. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ N()velFire.net
His Will of the Fist had long been tempered to an incredible level by fist and foot. The Whale King could be killed, but not defeated!
During his days of seclusion healing his grievous wounds, he had reaffirmed his pure martial heart. When he emerged, one idea filled his mind. He was indeed fifty-five; his fist style and Will nearly set.
But an old steed at the hitching-post may still climb!
Since the Dominator Fist path was blocked, he would step onto the Holy Fist path!