Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Gate of Yu (Part Four)

“Me, fight a ghost?!” Gao Chao pointed at himself, doubting whether he’d misheard.

“No mistake, it’s you. I believe you alone can handle it.” Jiang An nodded.

Gao Chao’s face fell immediately, his heart sinking. Your Highness, you overestimate me. That little demon is a master, and I’ve only just stepped into the basics—how could I possibly defeat him? If it were an ordinary martial arts master, at worst I’d just die, but the evil spirit summoned by an Onmyoji is terrifying. Being bitten to death by a ghost is a miserable fate.

He steeled himself and shuffled forward, looking crestfallen. “Your Highness, I once swore to follow you through fire and water. Very well, I’ll go now…”

Jiang An was amused by his expression of martyrdom and said, “Here, I’ll give you something to guarantee your victory!”

Gao Chao was overjoyed, while Tsukamoto, watching the two whispering, grew furious. “Jiang, do you think I am unworthy to be your opponent? You send a subordinate to fight—good, very good! Anyone who tramples my dignity, I will tear apart! Maya II, attack!”

As he spoke, he formed a hand seal, and the evil spirit shrieked, transforming into a mass of black and red, lunging at Jiang An and Gao Chao. Jiang An dodged, vanishing instantly, leaving Gao Chao momentarily dumbfounded. In a panic, he rolled clumsily across the floor, barely avoiding the evil spirit’s claw after several tumbles.

Crash!

A sturdy hardwood table was sliced through like tofu by the spirit’s claw, splitting cleanly and sending Gao Chao into a cold sweat. He realized he was now between the evil spirit and Tsukamoto. Thinking quickly, he adopted a “catch the leader first” tactic, darted toward Tsukamoto, and flung two throwing knives at him.

Whoosh! A shadow flashed past—the evil spirit had moved in front of Tsukamoto, catching the knives and crushing them to bits, then lunged at Gao Chao with astonishing speed.

It’s over—I can’t dodge! Time to use the secret treasure His Highness gave me!

Gao Chao knew his own cultivation was no match for the evil spirit. After tossing the knives, he bit his left index finger and pressed it to his right palm, then slapped it toward the spirit with all his might.

Boom!

A brilliant bolt of lightning flashed inside the room, like a dragon in the night, its thunderclap startling everyone.

“Thunder Palm?! Impossible!” the burly man exclaimed. He knew that Thunder Palm was a high-level spell, difficult to master. How could this youth unleash it? Yet, lightning had indeed shot from his palm, striking the evil spirit dead-on.

Gao Chao stared at his palm in disbelief, then at the hideous spirit, half its body dissolved by the lightning. This was incredible! He’d tried using his hand for various things, but never to summon lightning.

“Ha! Take another hit from me!”

Gao Chao, now intoxicated with power, struck out again, the crowd watching his palm intently. One second passed, then two—where was the lightning?

Gao Chao was puzzled too; why didn’t it work? Was it only usable once? No, something was missing.

Tsukamoto, seeing that the lightning had failed, felt both anger and relief. With a thought, his damaged spirit vanished and reappeared before Gao Chao, kicking him hard and sending him flying to hang against the wall. The remaining claw suddenly lengthened, aiming straight for Gao Chao’s heart.

Wait, you bastard!

Gao Chao spat blood, feeling his bones shatter, burning with fury. He pressed his bloodied left finger to his right palm and struck forward.

Boom!

Another bolt of lightning flashed, blasting the spirit’s claw and upper body to ashes, leaving only its ugly lower half on the ground.

Wow!

Tsukamoto spat a mouthful of black blood, now truly panicked. He hadn’t used all the spirit’s abilities, so how could he lose? He kept casting seals, but his spirit, usually easy to restore, now remained motionless, even his connection to it weakening.

There was no help for it—heaven’s thunder is the nemesis of all evil.

“Can’t move? Eat another Thunder Palm!”

Gao Chao, relentless now, remembered to use blood as a trigger and struck Tsukamoto with all his might. An even brighter bolt of lightning flashed, threatening to tear Tsukamoto apart.

“Don’t even think about it!”

A figure stepped in front of Tsukamoto, activating his internal energy and launching a fierce punch at Gao Chao. Wind exploded from his fist, surging like a tidal wave around the lightning.

Bang!

Lightning and fist collided, thundering so loud the whole room shook three times. Tables, chairs, windows, doors—all were destroyed by the violent energy, reduced to rubble.

The elites downstairs, previously enjoying themselves, were now terrified, staring in shock at the battered scene upstairs. Fighting? And so intense?

“You want to kill my cousin?”

The man who blocked Tsukamoto was also a martial master. He was tall, single-eyelidded, speaking Mandarin awkwardly, clearly a foreigner. Looking at his now charred fist, his anger flared.

“Nonsense! He tried to kill me, should I not kill him?” Gao Chao retorted.

“You filthy pig dare kill him?!” The single-eyelidded man was furious. “Do you know who he is? He’s a master! Tsukamoto, ranked thirteenth on the Heaven List! His father is seventh on the Divine List, a powerhouse who could crush you all with one hand! You dare kill him!”

Hearing this, the others were shocked—Tsukamoto was not to be trifled with. But Gao Chao, riding a wave of confidence, cared nothing for Heaven List or Divine List; to him, they were just pork knuckles.

“Judging by your annoying look, are you one of those damned Koreans?” Gao Chao said, casting a sideways glance at Shen, who was watching the spectacle. “Your entourage is made up of Japanese and Koreans—what, are you aiming for eternal friendship between three nations? So fond of being traitors?”

Shen nodded, “Yes, yes, and what of it?”

Seeing his smug expression, Gao Chao was infuriated. “Then taste my Thunder Palm!”

He tried to unleash his Thunder Palm as before, but when he raised his palm, a flicker of lightning sputtered out and was followed by a flash of fire—nothing happened.

“I thought it was real Thunder Palm!” The burly man finally saw clearly, folding his arms and laughing. “It was just a lightning talisman, its power spent, the talisman self-destructed.”

Gao Chao was dumbfounded. Seriously? Just as he’d been showing off, he failed? He instinctively looked at Jiang An.

Jiang An smiled, “Indeed. You’ve had your fun, now get back here and treat your injuries!”

Gao Chao, dejected, started to return, but Shen called out, “What, you injure Mr. Tsukamoto and just leave? Where’s the justice in that?”

“You’ll pay for that mouth soon enough!” Jiang An decided to finish things quickly.

Watching Tsukamoto summon spirits reminded Jiang An of a talisman he’d acquired at the antique market, a spirit-sealing talisman meant to protect genuine talismans inside from losing their power. Once the outer seal was removed, he was left with a thin, translucent lightning talisman. On a whim, he had Gao Chao, who knew no spells, fight with it pasted to his palm. It worked, defeating an Onmyoji master. Since Gao Chao lacked spiritual power, Jiang An taught him to use his blood as a trigger. Each strike required fresh blood, and when Gao Chao missed a step, he got injured.

Jiang An strode forward, his aura growing with each step. Soon, his presence pressed on everyone like the midday sun, even the martial masters’ faces changed.

Then, the crowd saw a majestic golden dragon head appear on the back of his right hand.

Jiang An approached the single-eyelidded man and asked quietly, “Yield, or die?”

“I am Han Minchan! I will not retreat!” The single-eyelidded man was a young prodigy, now a master himself. Though Jiang An’s aura seemed stronger, he could not yield—his reputation would be ruined.

“Oh,” Jiang An replied, and then threw a gentle punch.

It was a punch as free as a wild horse, as subtle as a goat’s horn—silent and ethereal. Han Minchan’s smile had just begun when his body suddenly froze. Smack! He vanished. No, to be exact, he remained—but only as a heap of blood and flesh on the floor, his massive frame shriveled like a deflated ball, as if his body lacked bones.

Indeed, all his bones had been pulverized by Jiang An in an instant!

“No!”

Tsukamoto, closest, his eyes bloodshot, glared at Jiang An with venom. Jiang An, not wanting him to harm himself with rage, rewarded him with a punch as well.

Tsukamoto met the same fate.

“Earlier, I said I would take your life—do I qualify now?” Jiang An looked at the Shen family master, the man with the handlebar mustache, smiling elegantly.

It was, unmistakably, the smile of a devil. The mustached man, like the mamba snake before, was utterly petrified. Jiang An killed masters as easily as eating, one punch per life, with no resistance possible. Such overwhelming power crushed all hope.

“I—I—I—” The mustached man’s teeth chattered. Only now did he realize how fear could seize one’s body. “Master Jiang, I was only joking, please don’t mind—Shen family has no ill will toward you, we’ll leave, we’ll leave!”

“Then your journey ends here,” Jiang An said, expressionless, and punched again.

The mustached man died with his eyes open.

The golden dragon head mark vanished—Jiang An had used up his last bit of cold spirit energy and couldn’t use the Twin Dragon Fist for a while, though others didn’t know this.

Thud, thud, thud!

A chorus of kneeling echoed. Whether from the Gu, Sun, Qiu, or Zhu families, or from White Boss and Wind Mistress, everyone was terrified by this godlike man. He was too dreadful—slaying masters like chickens, killing the rest would be even easier.

“We surrender, we submit!”

“Spare us! Spare us!”

These people, accustomed to luxury and power, commanding others, now grovelled for mercy before death, none willing to give up their wealth for oblivion.

Jiang An ignored them, instead gazing curiously at the only person still standing—Young Master Shen.