Chapter 88: Infamy Swells Once More

After one minute, then two, and at last nearly eight minutes had passed, a blue truck suddenly came into view, followed by another, and then one more.

"Move!"

Chen Erpao roared. At once, a container truck that had been parked by the roadside for repairs started up and swung sharply across the highway, blocking the truck in front of the men from Cross Hall. At the same moment, another container truck appeared at just the right time on the other side, cutting off their retreat.

"Cut them down! Charge!"

With one ringing cry after another, the men hidden on both sides of the road surged toward the enemies in the trucks. The doors of the two container trucks flew open as well, and large numbers of men waving machetes leaped down from inside.

The Cross Hall men were struck dumb with fear. This sudden ambush left them panicked beyond measure; they all jumped from the trucks and tried to flee. Then a middle-aged man shouted in Mandarin with a mainland accent, "Don't panic! Gather around me! They don't have more men than us. There is nothing to be afraid of."

At his call, the Cross Hall men who had been scattered around dozens of trucks quickly converged on him.

"I'll take him," Wang Xing said, his eyes blazing with fierce battle spirit. After tossing out those words, he rushed straight toward the middle-aged man.

At this moment, Chen Erpao felt no mercy at all. To show softness to an enemy was only to leave a knife at your own throat. From the very first day one ran with the underworld, one should have known that such a day would come.

This time, he did not use the three-edged military dagger. Instead, he drew another long blade forged from special refined steel. Every strike carried tremendous force, each one accompanied by a shrill whistling wind.

Around him stood nearly ten enemies with machetes in hand, their eyes full of terror as they stared at Chen Erpao. In the brief moment before, five of their comrades had already fallen in pools of blood.

"Aaah!"

One of them, a yellow-haired man, shouted and charged first. The rest followed close behind, their sharp machetes falling from all sides.

Chen Erpao plunged into their midst. Wherever his long blade pointed, men recoiled in fear. The steel sword and his own overwhelming power combined were not invincible, but they were terrifying beyond measure.

Clang, clang...

The pleasing sound of metal collision rang out without pause. Chen Erpao gripped his long blade like a tiger on the hunt and lunged forward. The three enemies facing him head-on were greatly alarmed; they retreated again and again while swinging their machetes hard to meet him.

Chen Erpao brought his blade down in a violent slash. After the first exchange, all three felt searing pain in their palms. Their machetes nearly flew from their hands, and a huge nick had even been torn into the edges of the blades.

Without a moment's pause, Chen Erpao struck a second blow.

The sound of ringing metal erupted at once. The three machetes were flung aside in an instant. At that very moment, a fresh wave of attacks came from behind. Chen Erpao leaped high into the air, his feet leaving behind afterimages.

Bang, bang...

His powerful feet slammed into the chests of the three men. With Chen Erpao's strength now, those chests were likely to have at least half their ribs shattered. As he kicked upward and away, the attack from behind naturally missed. Then, in midair, he abruptly twisted around. The enemy who had just been closing in on him suddenly met Chen Erpao's icy gaze, and a chilling sense of standing at the gates of death surged up in their hearts.

Chen Erpao swung his long blade and unleashed more than a dozen slashes in midair. The moment his feet touched the ground, several bodies crashed down with him.

On the other side, Wang Xing and the middle-aged man were locked in a fierce and evenly matched struggle. To Chen Erpao's surprise, the middle-aged man was also using martial arts of the Qingcheng Sect. One hand wielded a sword, the other a palm, combining the Pine Wind Sword Technique and the Heart-Breaking Palm, two superior arts. From the clues in his own words, he was in fact the sworn brother of the two Qingcheng masters killed the day before by Liu Huagang. The man before them was their eldest martial brother, Yan Zheng.

Yan Zheng was using two superior martial arts at once, and his skill was polished to an extraordinary degree. His bearing was ferocious and sharp, and his strength was a full level above that of his two junior brothers. Although Wang Xing's Iron Shirt had already nearly reached mastery, he still did not dare take a sword or palm strike head-on.

Wang Xing used a long blade as well, likewise forged from special refined steel. Yet Yan Zheng's sword was clearly no ordinary weapon either. It looked light and nimble, but in truth it was incomparably hard, a fine-grade weapon.

The sword flashed and spun, scattering blossoms of sword light all around, each one brimming with fierce sword force. Wang Xing did not yield in the slightest; his long blade drove left and smashed right, and all the blooms of sword light were instantly torn apart.

The long blade still did not lose momentum as it struck down on Yan Zheng. Yan Zheng thrust out his left hand, and an intense, bone-chilling palm wind surged forth to meet him. The Heart-Breaking Palm scattered the fierce attack of the long blade, while at the same time his sword shot out like a dragon in motion, stabbing again and again at Wang Xing's vital points.

Wang Xing retreated swiftly, but the sword was too fast. One fierce thrust left a wound on his left chest. Seeing this, Chen Erpao could not help but worry for him. But when he saw Wang Xing's unconcerned smile, he immediately relaxed.

The sword was indeed vicious, but against Wang Xing's Iron Shirt it had only managed to pierce a few centimeters. It was nothing serious. On the contrary, Wang Xing seized the opening, his blade arcing out to cut a bloody gash across Yan Zheng's leg. The two were evenly matched, and in the dozens of exchanges just then, neither had gained the upper hand.

Chen Erpao turned his attention away and charged into the enemy ranks. By now the men from Cross Hall were already scattered in disarray, forcibly split into several groups.

"Drop your blades and surrender, and you may live!" Chen Erpao shouted. His booming voice was deafening. The Cross Hall men froze for a moment, but not one of them put down his knife. Chen Erpao gave a cold, savage smile. He knew that if they were not brought truly close to death, they would never understand fear.

He sprang forward with his blade and charged toward the nearest group of enemies. By now, in this age of advanced technology, Chen Erpao's face was already known to underworld men throughout Tuen Mun. Seeing this godlike killer rushing toward them, the Cross Hall men could not help but grow tense, their eyes filling with terror.

"Kill!"

With a great roar, only an afterimage remained in place. Chen Erpao was already several meters away. His long blade howled as it fell, drawing out circles of blade light filled with surging force.

Two of the enemies shouted and charged at him head-on. The instant their machetes met his long blade, a tremendous power erupted. Blood sprang from the cracks in their palms, and in the blink of an eye the blade light was once again upon them.

They tried to raise their blades to block, but it was too late.

Swish.

Wherever the long blade passed, blood sprayed everywhere.

The rest were struck pale with fright. Their fighting spirit was gone, and under the fierce assault of the brothers of the Righteous Gate, they became less and less capable of resistance.

After nearly half an hour, the battle was essentially over, leaving only Wang Xing and Yan Zheng in their final fierce duel.

Wang Xing's face was splashed with blood, his expression grave and cold. The prolonged battle and the shocking wounds did not make him weary; on the contrary, he still looked full of fighting spirit. Yan Zheng, by comparison, was in far worse shape. His left hand had nearly been severed, hanging on only by a strip of skin. It was crudely wrapped in a piece of rough cloth, now stained a glaring red with blood. Had he not sealed the acupoints in time, he would likely have bled to death long ago.

With his left arm lost, Yan Zheng could no longer use the Heart-Breaking Palm. His combat strength had suddenly fallen by more than half. The rest of the fight needed no suspense: after taking one final fierce sword strike in return, Wang Xing brought his blade down and severed Yan Zheng's head.

"Haha, splendid! Splendid!" Wang Xing, though badly wounded, looked exceptionally exhilarated. True masters, after all, long for life-and-death duels, using them to break through the limits of the self. Looking at it from a martial perspective, Chen Erpao was certain Wang Xing had gained greatly from this battle.

Of the more than one hundred reinforcements sent by Cross Hall, some forty or fifty managed to flee in the confusion. Of the remaining hundred or so, at least half had been sent to meet death. Chen Erpao looked at the dozens of wounded men on the ground and did not cruelly kill them all. They were already incapable of fighting and no longer posed a threat; he disdained playing the butcher.