Hong Linying dove from midair, laughing, "Ha ha—merely the petty tricks of a low-level thief of the jianghu, 'Zhi Yin Chong'… Ah, what is this?" Halfway through his words a mournful scream suddenly echoed through the forest. Before Hong Linying could finish his sentence, a booming shout cut through the air; in midair his body jerked abruptly as he floundered helplessly to one side.
Meanwhile, the Strategist still had his back turned to the two of them. Yet at that very moment, several tree roots burst free from the earth behind him. They had already reached his rear just as a burly fighter—about to unleash his signature "Da Kai Bei Shou" strike—was impaled from his lower body. Splinters of bloodstained roots, some jutting straight, others at odd angles, emerged from his chest, crown, and neck while his body continued to convulse. It was clear that the giant man was on the verge of death.
This was the "Mu Ci Shu"—a low-level immortal technique that the Strategist had prearranged as a contingency. Earlier, he'd worried that small woodland creatures might disturb his Soul Absorption during a critical juncture, so he prepared a defensive measure. Upon recalling Li Yan's earlier use of the "Mu Pai Ci" trap, he had figured he could also exploit the dense forest here by rousing the roots that lay hidden underground as a weapon. Though he had hoped to obliterate Hong Linying in one fell swoop, the result left him less than satisfied. It wasn't that he didn't want to kill his opponent; it was simply that at that moment he could spare only a measly amount of outward spiritual power.
Without turning his head, the Strategist mumbled under his breath, "'Zhi Yin Chong'… It's really 'Zhi Yin Chong'…" Suddenly, he bowed his head and sniffed himself, then abruptly raised his gaze to Li Yan, and in a harsh tone shouted, "You dare smear that damn lowlife trick on my very person—I had not even been aware! Well, well… a clever ruse indeed!" His voice mixed both fury and begrudging admiration.
The Strategist's anger boiled over. For one, he could hardly believe that an adolescent with the manners of one growing up in the underbelly of the jianghu had managed to best him with such devious means; and secondly, had Li Yan not employed this stratagem, he would already have been safely mid-recovery. Instead, this sudden twist had disrupted his carefully laid plan.
"Zhi Yin Chong"—the name sounded refined, yet it was nothing more than a trick employed by the riffraff of the jianghu. In truth, it referred to an herbivorous, common demon beast that would never evolve to the first stage (in other words, it never developed spiritual intelligence). It possessed one innate talent: every day it would expel a dozen or so transparent, round pellets that carried a potent odor. This scent repelled other demon beasts and served to delineate its territory. In some cases, if it encountered food it fancied but couldn't immediately secure, it would spit out these crystal-like pellets; food coated with them was nearly impossible for other beasts to swallow, though the creature itself was unaffected—and indeed, it was highly sensitive to the scent it produced, able to track that odor over nearly a hundred li. This natural gift was meant for survival, yet its properties had been misappropriated by lowlife tricksters. They would crush these pellets and smear them on a target's clothing or carriage, waiting for the ideal moment to pilfer or ambush.
The Strategist knew all too well about this substance. Such pellets, when near the creature that had secreted them, would excite it greatly—yet that same odor was easily recognized by a junkie of the jianghu's techniques. Upon hearing Hong Linying's half-sentence and then catching a whiff of his own body, the Strategist quickly pieced everything together.
It was no wonder Li Yan had adorned himself with wild flowers over such a vast area that the entire valley was filled with heavy, heady fragrance. First, the floral aroma served to mask the smell of the "Zhi Yin Chong" pellets smeared on his clothes; second, Li Yan's garments had been sun-dried in the valley during spring when plentiful pollen would settle on them, further concealing any unwanted odor; and third, being constantly immersed in the valley's blooming scent had conditioned him so that neither he nor those around him would suspect the pellet smell. Taken together, these measures meant that no one would notice the distinctive odor of the "Zhi Yin Chong."
Learning this, the Strategist's outrage and wariness of Li Yan's cunning began to mount.
At that moment, Hong Linying—already having struggled to his feet—turned his fearful gaze toward the nearly collapsed figure sitting cross-legged on the ground: his junior disciple, who now lay in a pitiful state as a once-formidable jianghu master had almost lost his life, all thanks to a trap neither of them had even suspected.
The reason the pair had not attacked immediately upon arriving was partly because they had feared that the Strategist might have laid some trickery. They had maintained a distant watch, and aside from verifying that nothing was amiss nearby, they were caught completely off guard when a wooden spike suddenly erupted from the ground and fatally struck one of their men in a single blow.
Yet Hong Linying was ruthless. After a brief hesitation—and knowing that timing was of the essence—he sprang upward. He charged toward his fallen junior disciple; but as he neared the dying giant, his toe made contact with the corpse which served, in a grim way, as a stepping stone. In that split second, he maneuvered behind the Strategist and threw a punch aimed straight at the back of his head. In this way, he exploited the fallen body as cover to launch his assault. He deliberately chose this angle of attack because he suspected that other directions might also hide traps. Approaching from this side, protected by the corpse and prepared for any chance that additional snares might try to injure him, his plan was as calculated as it was ruthless.
Helplessly, the Strategist found himself with no escape. He twisted his head, drawing in a sharp breath and tensing his chest while twisting his waist in a last-ditch effort. Hong Linying's right fist whizzed past his ear—missing by a hair. But a veteran of countless battles, Hong Linying immediately realized that the Strategist, now at the most critical moment of his self-repair, could not extricate himself quickly. With that in mind, his right hand swept around in a half-circular motion, forming what he called a "Phoenix Eye Hammer." He unleashed a devastating blow aimed at the Strategist's left temple, while his left hand simultaneously hammered downward to attack the small of his back.
This rapid combination trapped the Strategist within the full force of Hong Linying's assault. With no alternative, the Strategist was forced to curl his body defensively, leaning as close as he could into Hong Linying's grasp. At the same time, his right hand, still far overhead, maintained its grip on the acupoint at the crown of Li Yan's head—a posture that looked ambiguously akin to a dainty woman nestled in the arms of a robust brute.
Then, with an audible "thump," Hong Linying's left punch landed squarely on the Strategist's lower back. Meanwhile, the "Phoenix Eye" strike from his right hand, intended to follow through, missed its mark—clearly because the Strategist had already diverted some of his spiritual energy to reinforcing his lower back, leaving his left side as mere flesh. Even so, Hong Linying's few dozen levels of skill managed to make the Strategist spurt forth a great deal of black blood, smearing not only his extended right arm but also splattering onto Li Yan's face.
Seizing his advantage, Hong Linying no longer held back. He launched into a flurry of short, close-combat strikes—employing techniques known as "Double Wind Blasting the Ears"—aimed at the Strategist's head. If these blows landed fully, they might shatter a skull into splinters. But at that very moment, a tremendous force seemed to well up from within the Strategist's embrace. With a sudden push and pull, a dazzling burst of fire flared forth. A searing wave of heat enveloped Hong Linying; there was no escape. In mere heartbeats, he was tossed backward several times, yet the flames that consumed his body did not relent an iota. Amid his agonized screams as burning pains wracked him, he attempted to rise and pounce again on the Strategist—but his strength was failing. In a matter of moments, his body was reduced to a blazing inferno that scorched the ground below.
Almost simultaneously—as Hong Linying's blow struck the Strategist's lower back—the Strategist's own body, nestled in Hong Linying's grasp, shifted. Miraculously, his previously disabled left hand began to stir. With great difficulty, his five fingers formed a seal, and from his fingertips a small fireball hurtled forth and struck Hong Linying squarely, marking him. In rapid succession, a burst of spiritual energy flared between his four fingers, channeling a force that hurled Hong Linying further back.
This was the "Fire Bomb Technique"—another low-level immortal method. The Strategist's left arm was already badly injured, its sinews compromised, so he could only muster a desperate close-range application of the technique. Though he had taken a heavy blow, at least he managed to slay Hong Linying.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the figure of Hong Linying writhing in the flames, the Strategist let out a cold, bitter laugh. But in the very next moment his face changed dramatically as the spiritual energy within him—strained by the two recent devastating techniques—had reached a state of near loss of control. Immediately after launching his Fire Bomb Technique, his Soul Absorption method began to operate on its own. Suddenly, he felt an immense surge of spiritual force roaring from Li Yan's crown. His hand, still connected to that acupoint, was hit by an overwhelming torrent. In that instant, he realized with mounting horror that although his method required careful recitation of incantations to modulate the force entering him, the energy that surged in now was nearly boundless. How could he possibly absorb such an immense flow of spiritual power into his body all at once?
What followed only deepened his panic. The flood of spiritual energy spilled into him, and within his body the fire toxin—like oil ignited by flame—exploded into furious boiling. It was far beyond his control. Most terrifying of all was that this incoming energy, being of a fire element, clashed violently with the wood-element qi that he cultivated. Both the mismatch in elemental nature and the sheer volume were lethal—either one, alone, would have been fatal; together, they threatened to shatter his entire inner balance.
Realizing his dire predicament, the Strategist screamed in grief and fury, "Li Yan—you've misguided me… You've doomed me! Now you, too, must die!" With that, he clenched his right hand and jerked Li Yan forcibly toward himself. By this time his Soul Absorption method had already taken hold; his right hand was pressed firmly against the torrent of spiritual energy surging from Li Yan's head, leaving him incapable of countering by expelling enough force to damage the enemy's brain. Instead, he resorted—once more—to the same tactic he'd used against Hong Linying: he drew Li Yan in closer and, as Li Yan's body pressed near enough, he activated his left hand and struck with the Fire Bomb Technique to fling Li Yan away with a shockwave. He could have drawn Li Yan in even closer—but that would have given Li Yan the chance to block his move.
In the midst of this pulling and dragging, Li Yan suddenly opened his eyes wide. With a burst of determination, he abruptly suppressed the amount of spiritual energy being forced from the crown. In a split second his right hand filled with renewed qi and acted swiftly: he yanked on the purple belt around his waist. A brilliant flash of white light erupted; in that moment a sleek, short, flexible blade materialized and embedded itself into the Strategist's abdomen. The hilt of that weapon was, in fact, the buckle of his purple belt.
The Strategist felt a sudden chill ripple through his stomach, followed immediately by searing pain. His right hand faltered. As he stared downward, he saw Li Yan's right hand gripping the blade lodged in him. A low, enraged roar burst from the Strategist: "You even have a backup? Then… you too shall die!"
Lifting his head, he saw that more black blood now gushed from the corner of his mouth. His right hand continued its straining pull, dragging Li Yan deeper into his embrace. Panicked, Li Yan tried to twist and wrench the blade free in a bid to tear apart the Strategist's innards—but it would not budge. Clearly, the Strategist had already wrapped the blade in a protective shroud of spiritual energy.
Observing that he was being drawn ever closer to the Strategist's deadly grip, Li Yan's desperation mounted. Earlier, he had been leaning against a tree as he was slowly slung upward; his legs were half-bent, half-stretched, while the Strategist sat cross-legged at his side. Then, in a sudden burst, Li Yan lifted one leg and unleashed a surge of qi in a powerful kick aimed at the Strategist's chest. Hong Linying, now recovering from his own brutal fate, laughed derisively, "You really think such a feeble kick can stop me?"
Hong Linying assumed that Li Yan's kick was intended merely to wedge against the Strategist's chest as a support, preventing him from drawing closer. Yet at that very moment, the Strategist's left hand could do little more than twitch at his waist, unable to raise his Fire Bomb Technique into proper position.
In the next instant, Li Yan's kick landed with a resounding snap. The tip of his shoe extended—transformed into a gleaming white blade—and pierced into the Strategist's chest, directly targeting his heart.
Joy briefly flickered in Li Yan's eyes, only to be smothered by a sudden look of disbelief. At the very moment his white-bladed kick made contact, the Strategist's face split into a bizarre smile. The Strategist's upper body twisted in a strange, contorted motion so that Li Yan felt as though the blade had merely grazed the interior of the Strategist's robe. Then, before Li Yan could react, the Strategist straightened abruptly. In one seamless, powerful motion he thrust his body upward—effectively using his own chest as a ramp against Li Yan's shoe. A tremendous force surged upward from beneath Li Yan's foot; a sharp "crack" rang out as Li Yan let out a heavy groan. His leg buckled to an abnormal angle and collapsed to the ground.
"You call this your final trump card? Pathetic," the Strategist rasped in a gravelly tone.