Chapter 7: Ambush and Kill

Two days later, the night was as thick and impenetrable as ink.

Deep within Yazi Bay, a dilapidated small boat rocked gently, a few dim, yellowish flickers of light leaking from its cabin.

Qian Biao sat cross-legged on the deck, a greasy, tattered cloth spread out before him. On it lay a few scattered pieces of silver, a string of copper coins, and several rings and bracelets of varying quality.

His two lackeys, Ma Wu and Old Seven the Lame, squatted nearby, a glint of greed appearing in their eyes.

"Brother Biao, have we squeezed out every last bit of coffin money from the Wei family?" Ma Wu rubbed his hands together, his voice kept very low.

Qian Biao picked up a piece of silver and weighed it, a cruel grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No matter how hard the old man's bones are, they aren't harder than the chisels in our hands. There are a few more families; we’ll go 'light the lamp' again tomorrow to help them clear their heads."

Old Seven the Lame took a swig of cheap liquor and whispered, "Brother Biao, the wind is blowing hard. Those mad dogs from the Tiger Gang have been biting fiercely at the docks these past two days. Even the漕口 (Cao-mouth) side is... I heard quite a few brothers are already packing their valuables."

The flesh on Qian Biao’s face twitched, his eyes sinister. "I expected as much! That’s why we need to make one last haul, and then... run for it!"

Ma Wu’s eyes lit up. "Brother Biao is wise! Then... what about the 'water-lantern meat'?"

"Sell it all!"

Qian Biao said decisively, "I don't give a damn if it stinks; as long as it can be traded for copper, it’s fine! Especially that orphan and widow from the Chen family. If that little brat surnamed Chen dares to stall, give them a reminder like we did before! If they still won't buy, then don't blame me for being heartless."

He grabbed the four corners of the rag, bundled the valuables inside haphazardly, and stuffed them into his tunic.

"Let's go! Back we go! We must turn everything into hard currency before dawn tomorrow!"

He stood up, and the boat lurched violently.

The three of them extinguished the faint light in the cabin, jumped off the small boat, and then scattered in different directions.

Qian Biao headed toward his "home."

The grudges he had accumulated over the years were enough to hang him ten times over, so he had always followed the rule of the "cunning rabbit having three burrows."

The night grew deeper, and all of Yazi Bay fell into a deathly silence.

Only the sound of his own footsteps echoed in the empty alleyway, sounding exceptionally jarring.

Qian Biao subconsciously quickened his pace.

Just as he ducked his head and rushed into the depths of a narrow dark alley that could only fit one person, he suddenly heard a "creak" behind him, like a shoe sole crushing a dry branch.

Every hair on Qian Biao’s body stood on end. He whipped his head around, but it was too late.

A thick hemp rope soaked in tung oil had already coiled around his neck like a venomous snake.

"Hrk—!"

Qian Biao’s eyeballs bulged. The instinct to survive drove his hands to claw frantically at the rope of death around his neck, his fingernails scraping against the rough hemp, leaving behind harsh sounds and bloody white marks.

In the darkness came the "creak-creak" sound of the rope tightening. It bit deep into his flesh, and his throat bones emitted a groan of unbearable strain.

He struggled in vain, kicking his legs wildly, his body slamming backward, but the noose around his neck only tightened further.

Every futile gasp for air brought only a burning sensation of suffocation; his lungs felt as if they were about to explode.

In the shadows, cold light erupted in Chen Qing’s eyes.

He had been lying in wait for three days, and finally, he had found his chance.

At this moment, he pulled the rope tight, his palms rubbed raw and red by the hemp.

"Aiya—!"

Qian Biao let out a strange cry, his body dragged backward, stumbling as he tried to use his weight to resist.

Chen Qing spun sharply, slamming his back hard against the cold, hard brick wall.

Using the wall as a brace, he kicked off with both feet, the core strength of his waist and abdomen exploding in an instant.

The entangled figures of the two were projected onto the mottled wall by the moonlight, distorted and deformed, like beasts tearing at each other in a fight for survival—one struggling in despair, the other exacting death in the silence.

Due to extreme oxygen deprivation, Qian Biao’s face turned from bright red to purple.

Bulging veins danced wildly on his forehead and temples, like countless dying earthworms burrowing under his skin.

Chen Qing’s intent to kill was absolute; the veins on his hands stood out as he pulled the rope with all his might.

Dozens of seconds passed, yet to Qian Biao, it felt as long as a century.

The strength of his struggle grew weaker and weaker; his wildly kicking feet gradually hung limp, and his hands, which had been clawing at the rope, hung down powerlessly.

But Chen Qing did not let go in the slightest; instead, he pulled even harder.

His arms trembled violently from the sustained exertion, his teeth nearly shattering.

"Crack! Crack!"

A bone-chilling sound of fracturing bones came from Qian Biao’s neck.

Only then did Chen Qing’s taut nerves suddenly snap, as if all his strength had been drained away. He slowly loosened his already numb and stiff hands.

"Thump!"

Qian Biao’s corpse fell heavily to the ground.

Chen Qing leaned against the wall, gasping for air, sweat mixed with stains he hadn't noticed splashing onto him sliding down his forehead.

He wiped his face and looked down at his burning palms; the blood blisters on them had long since burst, leaving a mess of raw flesh.

"Hoo—!"

Chen Qing exhaled, poured strength into his right foot, and stomped hard onto the vital point of Qian Biao’s twisted neck.

"Crack!"

The cervical vertebrae shattered in response, completely extinguishing any remaining life.

More importantly, this stomp also turned the rope marks into a bloody mess, making it impossible to distinguish their original form.

When finishing someone off, one must be thorough.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he exerted force through his feet, like a cold grinding wheel, and swiftly and heavily stomped several more times onto Qian Biao’s finger bones, sternum, and groin.

Confirming that all traces had been erased or obscured, Chen Qing finally stopped.

He quickly leaned down and picked up the valuables and the hemp rope from Qian Biao’s body.

His movements were clean and efficient, without a hint of hesitation.

After finishing all this, his figure flashed, and he quickly disappeared into the depths of the alley, leaving only a heavy scent of blood lingering in the air.

Yazi Bay, a certain street.

Under the moonlight, Chen Qing looked at his trembling hands, the rough sensation of the hemp rope still lingering on them.

He had thought he would feel fear or nausea, but in his heart, there was only an icy calm.

Killing is the kind of thing that only happens zero times or countless times.

He had to adapt to this current world.

Chen Qing took out the bundle he had scavenged from Qian Biao and opened it; his eyes lit up instantly.

Inside were four or five taels of broken silver and a jade bracelet.

"Qian Biao just died; these valuables can't be offloaded right now. I have to wait for the heat to die down. When the time comes, they’ll be perfect for subsidizing the household."

Chen Qing took a deep breath, his heart cold and clear.

You are what you eat... suffering won't make you a master of men; eating men will.

The next morning, the boat-dwelling area of Yazi Bay.

"Did you hear? Master Qian was done in!"

"He was so arrogant when he was collecting the 'Dragon King's Incense' last month!"

"Shh! The Golden River Gang is searching for the killer like madmen. They say they’re going to tear the killer into ten thousand pieces."

The neighbors and residents of Yazi Bay were whispering among themselves. News of Qian Biao’s death had spread, and secretly, no one knew how many people were clapping in joy.

Zhou Academy, morning class.

The disciples gathered in a circle, their gazes focused on Zhou Liang in the center of the courtyard.

"Tongbei Fist is not for show."

Zhou Liang’s voice was not loud. "It emphasizes 'extending long and striking far, cold, snappy, and fast.' Its intent lies not in 'performance,' but in 'killing'!"

His gaze was like lightning as he swept across the disciples: "The foundation of boxing and striking lies in stance training and internal energy; the bones and muscles are the weapons, and the force is the blade. Today, I won't talk about flashy routines; I will only talk about how to take a life when facing an enemy!"

As soon as these words were spoken, Chen Qing held his breath.

He knew that today, his master was going to demonstrate real martial arts.

"Sun Shun!" Zhou Liang barked.

"Disciple is here!" Sun Shun immediately stepped forward, his expression solemn as he assumed a defensive stance.

"Watch closely!"

Before Zhou Liang’s voice had even faded, his entire aura suddenly changed, like a fierce ape poised to strike.

Zhou Liang’s body didn't move, but his right arm suddenly snapped out as if it had no bones, so fast that it left only an afterimage. His five fingers were bunched like a bird's beak—not a straight punch, but a cunning arc that pecked like lightning toward the 'Yifeng acupoint' beneath Sun Shun’s ear.

"Pa!" A crisp sound—not a heavy blow, but a precise strike.

Although Sun Shun had been prepared, his body still shook violently by instinct, his head involuntarily whipping to the side and back, leaving his guard wide open.

"This move, 'Startled Thunder Patting the Window,' is also called 'Patting the Acupoint and Striking the Jaw.'"

Zhou Liang withdrew his hand and said coldly, "A light strike to this point causes dizziness; a heavy strike kills. The 'length' of Tongbei lies in the element of surprise, attacking where they must defend, breaking their balance with a single strike, and stealing their consciousness."

On the other side, just as Sun Shun steadied himself, Zhou Liang’s left hand silently reached out like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. His arm seemed to have grown longer out of thin air, his five fingers forming a claw, accompanied by a sharp whistle that tore through the air, striking straight for Sun Shun’s throat.

This claw was exceptionally vicious, the penetrating power contained in the fingertips seemingly capable of piercing leather.

Chen Qing knew this move was called "White Ape Severing the Throat," meant for locking the throat and shattering armor.

Sun Shun was shocked and, in his haste, crossed his arms to block his throat.

"Shhh-la!"

Zhou Liang’s claw didn't strike hard; instead, it slid along the inside of Sun Shun’s blocking forearm like a snake, his fingertips hooking precisely toward the 'Tiantu acupoint' below Sun Shun’s Adam's apple.

The wind of the claw was sharp; goosebumps instantly rose on the skin of Sun Shun’s neck, and he felt as if his throat bone had been locked by a cold iron hook.

Zhou Liang’s fingertips stopped steadily the moment they touched the skin, but the bone-chilling intent to kill made cold sweat instantly seep from Sun Shun’s forehead.

"The throat is a dead zone! The cunning of Tongbei lies in avoiding the solid and striking the void, finding the gaps to enter. The power of the fingers and claws can shatter throats and break bones in an instant!"

Zhou Liang withdrew his stance, his breathing steady, as if those two fierce and lethal moves had been nothing more than a casual gesture.

The courtyard was deathly silent.

The disciples’ faces were pale, and even their breathing was cautious.

In their daily practice, they mostly focused on the rules of the forms and the completeness of their power. When had they ever seen their master so nakedly demonstrate the lethal intent contained within the boxing style?

Those precise strikes to vital points, those cunning throat locks—every move was aimed at the most vulnerable parts of the human body. What they pursued was not victory or defeat, but instant destruction.

Zhou Liang looked around. "Did you see clearly? This is the way of Tongbei Fist. Practicing martial arts is about practicing the skills to kill enemies and save your own life. Stance training tempers the bones, muscles, and blood; striking techniques train the heart to be ruthless and accurate. Fighting with others is not a competition in a ring. In the line between life and death, there is no room for hesitation or flashiness."

"Remember!"

Zhou Liang said loudly, "Boxing routines are the 'rules' that help you remember the conversion of force and the coordination of footwork. But when facing an enemy, you must forget these 'rules.' Keep only one thing in your heart: how to use the fastest, most ruthless, and most effective way to knock down and destroy your opponent. Attack their vitals, break their foundation—this is the 'killing technique.'"

"Practicing martial arts without training the foundation leads to nothing in old age; training the foundation without understanding the principles leads to death in a fight."

Chen Qing felt a chill rise from his spine, straight to the top of his head, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

Those few vicious, direct, and highly efficient attacks just now.

They weren't a performance; they were the naked laws of survival.

True combat is about attacking when unprepared, taking the vitals, not being constrained by form, and seeking only to defeat the enemy in one strike.

Zhou Liang said finally, "If you want to live, you must train this ruthlessness and precision. Now, all of you, go practice."

"Yes!"

The disciples replied in unison.

Sun Shun walked over and said, "Junior Brother Chen, let’s go a few rounds."

"Alright!"

Chen Qing took a deep breath, suppressing his churning emotions, and set his stance.

Under Sun Shun’s guidance and sparring, Chen Qing began to truly practice the striking techniques of Tongbei Fist.

Starting from the first move, "Startled Thunder Patting the Window," sweat soon soaked through his back.

(End of chapter)