Chapter 37: So You Only Know Swordsmanship?

The Gate of the Absolute

"Whoosh!"

Suddenly, from where Xia Heng and the others were, a figure appeared; he had a jet-black vertical pupil on his forehead.

He looked over, and from that third eye a faint thread of light shot out, plunging straight into Wu Zhong’s body.

Wu Zhong’s heart froze. From that far away? That must be the deputy captain Matsutake, right?

He tensed up, but felt nothing.

Ya Bai didn’t realize this. He trusted his captain; with the third eye activated, even top-tier Awakened illusionists would be affected.

So he decisively rushed forward, swinging a heavy punch straight at the vital spot.

"Die!" In his understanding, Wu Zhong shouldn’t be able to see his move.

Even if sensed, the visuals would be offset, making parry inaccurate.

But he was clearly wrong. Wu Zhong raised his hand, locked on precisely, fingers splayed wide, and the purple slurry burst forth!

"Whoosh!"

The purple projectile shot out. Although its trajectory could be seen, its speed rivaled that of a bullet.

"Huh?" Ya Bai reacted quickly, dodging and immediately surrounding his body with a layer of red light.

But he still couldn’t fully evade; the purple-melt ordnance pierced his right chest and went straight through his back!

The purple slurry hissed and smoked like acid, corroding; Ya Bai screamed and staggered backward.

He had been wearing a skin-altering suit, which was now ruined. His original handsome model face disappeared, replaced by a beard-stubbled, leopard-faced look.

"Hiss… damn light cannon."

Ya Bai didn’t expect Wu Zhong to still be so accurate despite the captain’s constant third-eye illusion assaults.

Wu Zhong watched him bleeding and was thrilled; the arm armor’s power was indeed not bad.

What’s there to say? Keep it up.

A second purple-melt orb followed immediately.

"Pfsh—crack!" A small cloud of blood mist exploded.

Ya Bai’s left arm shattered on the spot, the front half severed instantly.

"Ya Bai—" The masked man’s eyes went red with rage.

He gripped his wooden staff, leapt, stomped on the car hood for an extra push, and shot forward like an arrow!

His flight was light and swift, wind roaring.

"Shh! Saa!"

The staff swept, and three feet of sword light burst from its tip with a howl!

"Hiss, sword light…" Wu Zhong thought this person must be a martial arts expert.

A blinding white trajectory sliced across; it cleaved the purple-melt orb midair, scattering slurry in all directions and burning several small pits into the ground.

"This is the purple-melt ordnance from the Void symbiote, specifically counters biological energy. Your blood vitality shield won’t hold, you need to dodge!" the masked man warned sternly, holding his sword across in front of his comrade.

The sword light before his staff dimmed, tinged purple, and he shed a segment of the staff, reactivated it, then restored it to normal.

Ya Bai, saved, cursed instead: "Bullshit, you think I didn’t want to dodge? This is a cannon!"

Then he clutched his chest, viciously pulling a small knife to dig at the wound, trying to rip away the tissue infected by the purple slurry to get it all out.

But the knife cut and stabbed for a long time, producing only cold sweat and a deathly pale face; it was useless.

The flesh around the pierced wound was hard, slightly elastic but not much.

The sharp blade could slice and divide it, but it simply wouldn’t tear free; the raw tissue looked blurry and stubborn!

"Ugh…"

It hurt—hurt, hurt! Though the wound was stubborn and strange, it was still his flesh; the pain hadn’t vanished.

After cutting at his own flesh for a long time, even this tough guy couldn’t hold out.

He pulled out an unlabeled ointment and sprayed a bunch of foam over the wound.

Still useless; the wound showed no sign of healing, and the corrosive purple slurry kept dissolving more flesh.

"What’s going on? This wound won’t heal! Ahhhh!"

Ya Bai gnawed his teeth: "Feipeng, get over here! With your speed he can’t possibly hit you!"

Feipeng hesitated, eyes narrowing as he appraised Wu Zhong: "Mind resister…"

"Who are you?"

Their original plan was to use illusion to control the field, then capture Wu Zhong and take him away.

But everything collapsed the moment they engaged; something unexpected had appeared.

Although the man before them had average strength and speed—slightly weaker than Ya Bai—he was a mind resister, and he’d made Ya Bai’s wound incurable. Who knew what other strange traits he might have?

"You sneak-attacked me and don’t even know who I am?" Wu Zhong snarled, purple light dawning in his right palm.

Feipeng frowned. He wasn’t afraid of purple-melt ordnance, but he was wary of the unknown.

"Heh, must be a nobody," Ya Bai sneered.

Wu Zhong stared at him. "After all these years, there are still people in the disaster world who judge by fame?"

"There are countless top fighters who fell to no-name rookies, buddy. You don’t belong in the disaster circle."

The man hesitated, flushing with anger, but Wu Zhong was right.

He kept activating his ability to heal; both bottles of medicine were used up, yet the chest hole wouldn’t close.

He was covered in foam from head to toe, practically in a bubble bath!

Feipeng’s eyes were solemn. "You’re right. Even someone like Lu Guangqi could be brought down by a newcomer…"

"So you’re the ghost-master Wu Dong?"

Wu Zhong said coldly, "I am not some ghost-master."

Though a denial, it essentially admitted he was Wu Dong.

Ya Bai shouted, "Don’t believe him! Feipeng, why are you even asking? He says he is, so he is!"

"The one in the female skin is the real Wu Dong! Without ghostly aid he’d be pitifully weak. Even if he owns disaster artifacts, he’s trash."

Yang Chunsha lay on the ground dumbfounded: "Huh? Me?"

Ya Bai continued, "These two were knocked out in Infinite Summer’s van. One is Wu Dong, and the other is a body to take a hit."

"Infinite Summer took them in, hid them, thinking he could shake off 'Gourd’s' surveillance by swapping the man into female clothes and the woman into male clothes."

"Cough cough… but 'Gourd' saw everything."

Wu Zhong suddenly realized: the introverted youth who drove the refrigerated van earlier must be codenamed 'Gourd.'

So that was the misunderstanding—they didn’t know they had swapped skins with Yang Chunsha in the hospital.

Of course, these people would know she was truly female as soon as they stripped her clothes.

They hadn’t done that yet; partly stunned by his strength, the situation was tense.

Partly because Yang Chunsha’s combat power was too trash.

Her constitution was completely ordinary; once she was taken by surprise, she couldn’t cast, and was essentially useless.

By contrast, this real newcomer, with symbiote arm armor and Mad Blood Clan physiology, didn’t seem like a true rookie so long as he kept his composure.

But he couldn’t pass for a boss—he had already collided with Feipeng head-on and been blasted several meters.

Feipeng looked at his teammates and shook his head gravely: "No, Wu Dong is an extraordinary newcomer. He fought 985 on Five Elders Peak, commanding eight hundred ghosts and gods to slaughter through the Mount Lu base, and even Lu Guangqi was severely injured."

"Having mind resistance fits. This man matches the reputation."

Ya Bai snorted: "I don’t buy it! Who doesn’t know this rumor is suspect?"

"If the ghostly mark were that great, why didn’t Infinite Summer kill to seize it instead of protecting it?"

"Lu Guangqi being smashed by a newcomer? I don’t believe that. Even if true, it was probably because Five Elders Peak gathered gods and ghosts for home-field advantage."

"Outside Mount Lu, they’re just day and night wandering deities."

Feipeng said in a low voice, "No, no. Infinite Summer’s behavior doesn’t prove anything. He has his own path; maybe he doesn’t need that thing."

"And the ghostly mark must have a cost, which is why the captain wanted Gourd to take over."

The two argued from different angles, not even agreeing on who the real target was.

But both represented two attitudes in the circle: one believing the rumor, the other doubting it.

Either way, they all believed the ghostly mark existed and that Mount Lu’s gods and ghosts could be commanded.

Wu Zhong felt annoyed and frowned. "Where are these ghosts? If I could command them, wouldn’t I have them come out and kill you?"

Ya Bai’s breathing was heavy; one lung had been badly damaged.

Still, he could speak: "Cough cough… heh heh… we temporarily suppressed his ghostly mark, and now he’s playing dumb?"

"You sent out day wandering deities to stop us while trying to finish off Gourd here so you could shake us off."

"If the day wandering deities were stronger, you might have succeeded."

Wu Zhong was startled. "You’ve already fought the day wandering deities?"

Ya Bai grinned: "Don’t you know? Turns out the one in female skin is the real Wu Dong; his ghostly mark had been temporarily neutralized by us."

Wu Zhong blinked. "Neutralized? You can neutralize a ghostly mark?"

They lifted their chins. "This guy’s day wandering deity caused a landslide and debris flow that buried two of our brothers, then harassed and tied us up for half an hour…"

"Now the day wandering deity has been utterly destroyed by us! Dead and sent back to Mount Lu."

"Five Elders Peak’s cyclone was sealed by 985. During the day, apart from day wandering deities, no other gods or ghosts can come out."

"Mount Lu is fifteen hundred kilometers from here; once you go there and come back, who can save him?"

Wu Zhong took a deep breath; so they had already clashed.

The gods and ghosts had been acting out of his sight, attacking those who came looking for him.

In others’ eyes, that was proof Wu Zhong commanded the gods and ghosts to protect himself—no amount of arguing would change that. They wanted to kill him and see if they could inherit the mark.

He said sincerely: "You lot are idiots, using ghosts as guns!"

Ya Bai’s face darkened. "Feipeng, stop wasting words. Go in together, kill him."

Feipeng’s exposed eyes continued studying Wu Zhong: "If he is a ghost-master, wouldn’t killing him make me inherit the ghostly mark?"

"Capturing someone with unknown traits alive is the most dangerous. My suggestion is to withdraw."

Ya Bai barked: "If we inherit it, so what? The benefits will outweigh the costs! Don’t be scared!"

"Lots of factions are looking; we who find him first get the prize!"

"This guy isn’t your match, Feipeng! We’re here now!"

Feipeng shrugged noncommittally: "Fine. You handle the woman; this mind resister is mine."

"Either way, one of them must be the ghost-master. Capture both and let Gourd kill them."

He was cautious. If things went sideways, he wanted to retreat. That was survival.

But despite his cold words, he was internally gentle and soft-eared—persuadable.

His teammates had a point: Wu Zhong’s combat power looked poor; from their probing, they’d already figured that out.

Despite Ya Bai’s heavy wounds, Feipeng was confident against mere purple-melt ordnance; there was no need to be timid.

"Boom!" Wu Zhong decisively struck first!

He had been circulating purple light through his arm armor before, shining brilliantly—not just for show.

He had been gathering the purple slurry in his palm for a long shot, holding back—this was how he ambushed Ya Bai earlier.

Now he suddenly raised his arm, eyes and hand aligned on target, fingers spread, and released the energy in an instant!

A precise strike!

But Feipeng’s wooden staff flashed lightning-fast, knocking the purple orb away midair.

"Whoosh~toot!" The projectile skimmed past the car’s side mirror and flew off.

The mirror shattered, the edge irregularly corroded, and the orb’s distant impact left a dirt pit.

"Hiss…"

Wu Zhong’s pupils constricted; he knew this man was dangerous and cursed inwardly—Feipeng was the strongest of them.

He might even be a greater threat than the hidden captain Matsutake, since Wu Zhong’s immunity to illusions made him vulnerable to a body-combat specialist.

"Bang bang bang!"

Wu Zhong turned and ran, firing purple-melt orbs with every step, eyes glued to suppressing and obstructing.

"Hmph!" The arrogance in Feipeng’s eyes showed.

"This level of hot weaponry is meaningless to me."

"Bang bang bang!"

Wu Zhong ran and fired, then pushed three palm shots at Feipeng, purple light streaking.

But Feipeng’s footwork was extraordinary, teleporting laterally and dodging every shot, then using his staff like a sword to reach Wu Zhong.

This close, the projectiles should have stopped; Wu Zhong should’ve had no place to hide.

Yet Feipeng snapped the staff like a blade and again flung each purple orb away.

With a thunderous crack, the collision blew out the air itself, yet the staff remained unscathed.

Then again and again—second, third, fourth strikes…

Clang, clash—the sword shadows blocked like wind, too fast to see.

His hand speed was more terrifying than his footwork.

And the staff seemed indestructible. As he’d said, this kind of hot weapon meant nothing to him.

"This!"

Everything happened too fast; no amount of ordnance could stop it.

Wu Zhong felt suddenly that in the blink of an eye, sword light and heat were right at his nose!

"Damn!"

His hairs rose; his mind went almost blank. Instinct made him roll like a lazy donkey.

Feipeng’s eyes flashed disdain. The blade dropped, and in an instant he switched to a move slicing toward Wu Zhong’s shoulder.

"Pfsh!"

Wu Zhong had already raised his arm to block, but the sword was faster.

The blade skimmed his arm armor, sparking with lightning, and cut a cloud of blood from his shoulder.

The arm wrapped in armor was raised, then severed at the shoulder!

"You dare spar with my Songyang Iron Sword?"

Feipeng’s true edge revealed itself; his eyes were sharp and fierce, surging with arrogant pride. He no longer had the earlier caution.

"You…"

Wu Zhong, missing his right arm, his eyes rimmed with red, face parchment-pale and drenched in sweat, felt the pain escalate in steps, sensed the wooden blade’s warmth at his throat, and realized the vast gap in their strength.

A single meeting, a single sword, and he was crippled.

Even with twice the physique of a normal man and a nano arm, he wasn’t a match for this veteran disaster-world mercenary.

They had simply lacked intel and hadn’t rushed in.

Now that Feipeng went serious, his footwork and swordsmanship exceeded all expectation and radiated the killing aura of years spent in blood and violence.

Expressionless and murderous, he pressed down like a peerless master, making Wu Zhong feel the threat of death—no, he wouldn’t die.

Wu Zhong’s pupils snapped sharp with clarity: "He won’t kill me…"

He knew Feipeng believed he was Wu Dong and wanted him alive for capture; otherwise, he could have aimed for the head.

This guy didn’t intend to directly inherit his ghostly mark; he’d chosen a successor and planned to leave the actual killing to his teammates.

Calm returned to him, and he felt a faint, linked tremor.

His arm! He glanced at his severed arm a few meters away and saw the arm armor still active; it hadn’t disengaged.

"Nice, an arm for an arm! Ha ha—cough cough… ugh!"

Ya Bai laughed in relief, but the chest hole leaked air, leaving him in terrible pain, coughing up blood bubbles frequently.

"I’ll stab a hole in you too!" He gasped, holding a small knife, soaked in medicinal foam, striding over.

Both men seemed certain of victory.

"Tch!" Wu Zhong’s eyes hardened. He suddenly rammed his neck toward Feipeng’s wooden blade.

Judging by the move, he intended to let the sword light pierce his throat and kill himself.

Resolute!

"Huh?"

Taken aback, Feipeng did not expect Wu Zhong to have such courage.

What did he mean? To trap me?

His first reaction was to retract the sword light to prevent Wu Zhong from dying.

Without the blade, it was just a heated staff.

Wu Zhong, one-armed, grabbed the staff and leaned back, putting all his strength into a pull.

At the same time, he rode that momentum, gathered every ounce of power, and kicked explosively into Feipeng’s crotch.

"I’ll stomp you to death!"

"Pf!"

Wu Zhong’s kick was brutal, smashing the perineum into a mushy ruin.

Feipeng’s face contorted; his limbs went weak, cold sweat pouring.

"Ohh…" Only a gasping tremor came from his throat.

Even someone as strong as him had to loosen his grip; the staff fell into Wu Zhong’s hands.

But Feipeng was a tough man; despite the blow and kneeling, he still had fight and a terrifying aura burst out.

Without the staff, he turned his palm into a sword!

With a hum, sword light bloomed from his palm; one hand braced the ground, the other slashed diagonally, aiming to slice Wu Zhong to death.

"Saa!" Wu Zhong too had athletic ability and had already planned what to do next.

Holding the staff, he rolled like a lazy donkey, ignoring the grinding pain of his severed arm, and tumbled behind Feipeng.

The front of the staff was pointed, a half-formed sword tip.

Wu Zhong didn’t hesitate. Taking advantage of Feipeng bending and being slow, he slammed the staff into Feipeng’s rear from behind!

"Shove it in and die!"

Wu Zhong used all his strength. "So you only know swordsmanship?"

Ya Bai was startled by the counterattack and leapt up: "Feipeng—"