Chapter 49: An Enemy Yet to Be Met
Chapter 49: An Enemy Yet to Be Met
Hu Tiehua cursed under his breath, though he knew this wasn’t the time to question Li Chaofeng’s weapon origins. He turned to Sun Kong, a sneer on his face.
“Hmph. Six men failed to capture him. Do you really think the seventh will be any stronger than all of you combined?”
Sun Kong chuckled, glancing at Wu Qingtian, who lay bound on the ground.
“What do you think, Hu Tiehua? Do those five measure up to me?”
Hu Tiehua had fought two of the attackers himself and grudgingly nodded.
“None of them together could match the threat you alone pose.”
Sun Kong chuckled again, then grew serious.
“The one coming next is ten times stronger than me. So… do you still think my information isn’t worth sparing my life?”
Hu Tiehua snorted. “I’ve heard better lies from a monkey. You won’t even name this person—do you expect us to let you walk?”
He turned to the King of Kucha.
“Besides, I doubt the king would agree to release you.”
The king, still shaken from the assassination attempt, nodded silently. Li Chaofeng and Ji Bingyan had saved his life, and he had no intention of interfering.
“This man was defeated by Snake Xiaogui. Whether to release or detain him is Hu Tiehua’s decision.”
“Snake Xiaogui?” Hu Tiehua blinked, then looked at Sun Kong’s mangled iron hand—two fingers severed—and turned to Ji Bingyan, his face a mix of shock and anger.
“You let a kid fight a monkey alone?!”
Hu Tiehua hadn’t brought Li Chaofeng to the desert for combat. To Chu Liuxiang and his companions, Li Chaofeng was still a boy with modest skills, barely fit to assist in a fight. At most, they’d let him play a supporting role.
Hu Tiehua had always shielded Li Chaofeng when present, and even in his absence, he expected Ji Bingyan to do the same. Sun Kong was no obscure name in the martial world—battles there often ended in seconds. Ji Bingyan shouldn’t have left Li Chaofeng to face him alone.
Ji Bingyan rolled his eyes. “I’d love to help, but Sun Kong didn’t even survive the kid’s first move. What was I supposed to do—cheer?”
“One move?”
The two arsonists outside had been skilled men, handpicked by Sun Kong to lure Hu Tiehua away. His lightness skill was formidable.
Hu Tiehua had chased two men alone, his “Startling Dream of the Wandering Dragon” technique swift enough to chase clouds—but not swift enough to know what happened in the tent.
Sun Kong watched Hu Tiehua’s stunned face, his own twisting with bitterness. Both men had called Li Chaofeng “the kid,” a nickname that now felt misplaced.
“Hu Tiehua,” he sneered, “don’t tell me you don’t even know this brat’s background.”
Hu Tiehua rubbed his chin, silent for a moment.
When he first met Li Chaofeng, the boy had nothing but his Demon Sword Dragon Fang. Hu Tiehua had taught him martial basics himself, treating him as a strong-armed youth with no real cultivation.
To Hu Tiehua, Li Chaofeng’s origins were clear. In the martial world, lineage was judged by cultivation, not birthplace. The first martial art Li Chaofeng learned came from Hu Tiehua’s Great Banner Sect, though they’d never formalized the master-disciple bond.
Logically, Li Chaofeng was a junior disciple of the Great Banner Sect.
But three years had passed. Hu Tiehua never imagined Li Chaofeng could defeat Sun Kong in a single strike.
Sun Kong was the last heir of the Changbai Monkey Clan, a terror between the White Mountains and Black Waters.
Li Chaofeng might have trained hard, but he’d only studied martial arts for three years.
Three years ago, Li Chaofeng struggled to best Skyward Tiger. If not for the cramped quarters of that tavern, where Skyward Tiger’s Golden Ring Greatblade couldn’t swing freely, the outcome might’ve been different.
Jiang Biehe had nearly killed him, too—only deterred by Li Chaofeng’s bluster.
The Five Supreme Arts were already formidable, but the world held only a few superior techniques: the Bridal Robe Divine Skill, the Mingyu Skill, and other divine-level arts.
The Mingyu Skill’s ceiling surpassed the Five Supreme Arts, but no art could elevate a novice to a first-tier martial artist in three years as swiftly as the Five Supreme Arts could.
Yet here Li Chaofeng stood, a world apart from his former self.
Hu Tiehua couldn’t fathom how a boy with no prior skill had mastered such power. Even if Li Chaofeng had secretly learned the Bridal Robe Divine Skill, defeating Sun Kong in one move seemed impossible.
Frustrated, Hu Tiehua glared at Sun Kong.
“Whether he’s a ghost or a god, tell us who this seventh man is—or you’ll die here.”
Sun Kong, seeing Hu Tiehua’s refusal to discuss Li Chaofeng, dropped the matter. His face hardened.
“The world’s greatest assassin… Yao Long Li Chaofeng!”
“Yao Long Li Chaofeng!” Ji Bingyan gasped. He’d heard the name before.
Li Chaofeng frowned, piecing things together.
Sun Kong had lost by impaling his own fingers on Li Chaofeng’s sword. His defeated cry had hinted at “Duke Zhou’s Offering,” a variation of the Changbai sword technique.
The Five Supreme Arts was a compendium of fluid, unpredictable strikes, designed to counter opponents mid-combat. It was lethal but ill-suited for duels.
In truth, Sun Kong had been more startled by Chu Liuxiang’s presence than Li Chaofeng’s skill.
As for Yao Long Li Chaofeng, he’d been lured to the desert by Wuhua’s deception—using Chu Liuxiang’s name.
Now, with Chu Liuxiang captured by Stone Guanyin, Sun Kong had no reason to fear retaliation. Yao Long Li Chaofeng, too, would see no reason to explain his presence.
Li Chaofeng couldn’t kill him.
Let’s see if Hu Tiehua and Ji Bingyan’s names can dissuade him, Li Chaofeng thought.
He doubted it. Yao Long Li Chaofeng was stubborn—a man who’d kill a king on Wuhua’s word, believing Chu Liuxiang aided rebels.
Sun Kong smirked at the silence.
“Hu Tiehua, is this information worth my freedom?”
Hu Tiehua scratched his nose. Yao Long Li Chaofeng’s assassination posed little threat to him or Ji Bingyan. Li Chaofeng dined and slept beside them, and his sharp nose would warn of danger.
Besides, the target wasn’t them—it was the King of Kucha.
He studied the king, seated like a Buddha, and nodded.
“Release you? Only if you swear not to return.”
Sun Kong’s jaw tightened. His reputation in the martial world was shaky at best.
“With you here? What’s the point of coming back?”
Yao Long Li Chaofeng’s assassinations were legendary, but in open combat, he could only hold one opponent. Sun Kong’s return would only cost him more fingers.
Hu Tiehua turned to the king.
“Yao Long Li Chaofeng is the world’s deadliest assassin. Without this monkey’s warning, your majesty’s life would’ve been in grave danger.”
The king shuddered but bowed gratefully.
“Whatever Hu Tiehua deems fit, I shall follow.”
Stone Guanyin, the Queen of Kucha, frowned—not at the threat to her husband, but at Li Chaofeng’s sudden rise.
Once a nobody, he was now a viable piece on the board.
His strength wasn’t supreme, but his place among the top ten of the Weapons Chart was deserved.
The Demon Sword Dragon Fang had vanished, replaced by the Nine Manifestations Dragon Fear Lament. Even so, his reputation as “Yao Long” remained intact.
Switching to Kuchean, Stone Guanyin whispered to the king, who nodded.
“Your majesty,” the king said, bowing to Hu Tiehua, “I am honored to have such great heroes by my side.”
He glanced at the bloodstained floor and corpses, then bellowed.
“Someone clean this mess up!”
(End of Chapter)
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