Chapter 123: A Final Struggle Against Death

Wan Hong’s strength, while not the absolute peak within the Yi Sect, was easily ranked among the top ten. Caught off guard by his sudden, explosive strike, the two deputy hall masters standing at the doorway were knocked down in an instant.

"Where do you think you're going?" Liu Huagang, burning with rage, flickered across the room with lightning speed. He blocked the exit, leaving no path for escape.

From the moment he joined the Yi Sect, Wan Hong had harbored a deep-seated fear of Liu Huagang, his direct superior and the master of the Blood Hall. During their brutal battles in the field, he had witnessed time and again Liu’s peerless combat prowess and his bloodthirsty nature.

"Brother Gang, please, spare my life!"

The two locked eyes, and before a single blow was exchanged, Wan Hong’s resolve had already crumbled. The others immediately closed in around them.

Liu Huagang looked on with chilling indifference, an aura of grim lethality radiating from his frame. "Step aside, all of you. Let me cleanse the Blood Hall of this filth."

Chen Erpao, understanding the weight of the moment, gestured with his hand. The men retreated, clearing a space for the duel.

Wan Hong’s heart sank into despair. Clenching his fists tightly, he hissed, "Don't blame me." He unleashed a flurry of heavy punches, a torrential, unrelenting deluge of force surging toward his opponent.

Liu Huagang moved with ruthless efficiency. His leg shot out like a spear piercing the heavens, slicing through the chaotic shadows of the incoming punches.

With a thunderous "bang," Wan Hong was sent flying backward, crashing through several chairs before he finally came to a halt.

"Cough, cough." Wan Hong struggled to his feet, blood spilling from his lips as his face turned deathly pale.

In the next second, they clashed violently once more. The air was thick with the force of their strikes. Wan Hong’s combat power was equal to any of the Black and White Twins, and driven by a desperate, blood-red madness, he fought with everything he had.

"I never imagined you were hiding such strength. Your Tan Leg style is quite impressive!" Liu Huagang sneered. He crossed his arms, absorbing the immense pressure of a series of leg strikes, before unleashing a lightning-fast roundhouse kick.

Wan Hong’s Tan Leg technique was versatile—fluid in transition and sharp in movement—and he countered instantly.

"The hook and link are cunning, the tiger-pouncing strike is mountainous." Seizing the momentum, Wan Hong launched a barrage of rapid-fire leg strikes, filling the air with shadows of his feet.

Suddenly, Liu Huagang leaped into the air, closing the distance in a blur. His legs crossed, pinning Wan Hong’s upper body before he exerted a sudden, violent force that sent Wan Hong spinning through the air.

Wan Hong slammed heavily into the conference table, his condition worsening with every movement. His clothes were soaked in blood, yet he refused to yield. He lunged upward, desperate to continue the fight.

"The bow-stance punch and the crossing kick!" As the sharp wind of the kicks brushed past his face, Liu Huagang retreated repeatedly, his hands moving in a blur to deflect the dense onslaught.

"Ah!" Frustrated by his inability to land a blow, Wan Hong let out a roar. He kicked off the conference table with all his might, launching himself nearly four meters into the air. His right leg descended with the crushing force of a mountain-cleaving blow, swift as lightning, fierce as a tiger descending from the peaks. He struck directly at Liu Huagang’s head.

Liu Huagang’s expression remained unchanged. Sensing the destructive power above him, he braced his entire body and, in the final split second, shifted mere centimeters to the side.

"Bang!" The lethal kick grazed his ear and hammered into his shoulder. The sound of the impact was like two steel plates colliding—a jarring, deafening noise.

Ignoring the agony as if his shoulder belonged to someone else, Liu Huagang let out a cold grunt and launched a kick straight upward, slamming into Wan Hong’s chin just as he landed.

The force was devastating. The blow to his fragile jaw sent Wan Hong reeling backward, blood and broken teeth spraying from his mouth.

This time, Wan Hong struggled in vain, unable to rise. He coughed up great mouthfuls of blood, his face pale as paper from the massive blood loss. Yet, his eyes still flickered with a defiant, lingering fire.

Liu Huagang dusted the dirt off his shoulder, where the kick had landed, and walked toward him step by step. His eyes were devoid of emotion, as if he were staring at a corpse.

"Ah Feng, and all the brothers of the Blood Hall who perished, I have avenged you. May you find peace."

As the words left his lips, a triangular military bayonet appeared in Liu Huagang’s hand. In a flash, he plunged it into Wan Hong’s throat. Wan Hong tried to struggle, but felt his strength rapidly draining away. Even a scream was beyond his reach.

As the blade was withdrawn, blood sprayed forth like a sudden, crimson snowfall. Wan Hong’s body finally collapsed, twitching briefly on the ground before falling still.

"Brother Pao, I bear responsibility for this. As the master of the Blood Hall, I promoted a traitor to the rank of deputy and failed to notice it for so long, causing Ah Feng and the others to die in vain. I have failed in my duty. Please, allow me to report to the Enforcement Hall for punishment."

Liu Huagang’s expression was heavy with sorrow as he looked down at the corpse, his voice firm and filled with self-reproach.

"Brother Gang, this is not your fault. There is no need for this."

"The traitor is dead now; why must you suffer further?"

The brothers tried to persuade him, but Liu Huagang had made up his mind. He repeated his request. Chen Erpao, knowing Liu’s nature—stubborn and much like his own—sighed helplessly and gave a silent nod of approval.

Liu Huagang picked up Wan Hong’s body and, with a heavy heart, walked toward the Enforcement Hall.

In a room inside the Yi Sect headquarters, Ah Mei’s expression was erratic. She had just learned everything, but she did not know if her own identity had been exposed. Her hand trembled inside her sleeve, where a dagger was concealed.

After a long while, Liu Huagang returned, covered in wounds. Ah Mei flinched, the usual shyness vanished from her face as she gripped the dagger tightly.

"Ah Mei, I’m tired. I want to sleep," Liu Huagang said, his head bowed, failing to notice the sudden shift in her demeanor.

Ah Mei was startled, regaining her composure with an awkward reply: "Go ahead and rest." She exhaled, hiding the dagger once more.

Before long, the news spread throughout the Yi Sect and reached the ears of many figures in the underworld. The brothers mourned the loss of Yang Feng and the others, while speculating about the identity of the second traitor.

Because Wan Hong’s status in the sect was high and the second traitor was even more cunningly hidden, everyone focused their suspicions on the high-ranking members. Not a single person suspected Ah Mei, the shy, delicate girl.