NABC Chapter 56 The End
Chapter 56 The End
Feng Xiu spent the entire afternoon studying the Dragon-Snake Martial Seal.
In just one afternoon, I barely mastered one-tenth of it.
The Dragon-Snake Martial Seal truly lives up to its reputation as a top-tier martial art, involving the eight extraordinary meridians of the human body, making it a martial art that one can dedicate a lifetime to studying.
The Green Snake Seal is cunning and treacherous, while the Flood Dragon Seal is fierce and domineering. When combined, the two create endless variations.
However, there was one point that was a bit too complicated, and Feng Xiu had the idea of improving and reducing it.
Even if improvements are to be made, the prerequisite is that one must be proficient in all of them and know the acupoints and meridians involved in each seal.
This step alone is enough to kill time.
By the time Feng Xiu came to his senses, it was already dark outside the window.
After leaving the training room, Uncle Zheng had arranged for someone to prepare a highly nourishing meal.
Inside the bedroom, Feng Xiu sat at the table, looking at the food laid out on it, but he had no appetite.
Deer blood soup, tiger bone soup, ginseng and deer antler stewed chicken, etc.
Feng Xiu casually picked up a couple of bites and then put down his chopsticks.
Then, he opened the window and, enjoying the cool air, performed a set of Eight Vajra Kung Fu.
Once he felt more energetic, he devoured all the food on the table.
After letting out a comfortable burp, just as I was about to go to bed, the image of that boy from earlier that day suddenly came to mind again.
Uncle Zheng explained it very clearly: Third Master is the head of a small street, in charge of a small street near Dongyang Street.
Outside the window, the night was deep, and the moonlight shone into the courtyard, creating a cool and serene atmosphere.
With a light tap of his foot, he activated his Wind Chasing Step, and his entire body floated out of the window like a ghost.
A powerful force flowed through his body, and with each step he took, his figure floated several feet away.
Moments later, it disappeared into the night.
...
...
Late at night, in a street corner.
Inside a dilapidated alleyway house, a dim candlelight cast a soft glow.
A thin, sallow-faced boy in tattered clothes sat on a small stool, staring intently at the object in his hands.
On the table was a somewhat damaged whetstone, and in the boy's hand was a sharp knife that had long since become gleaming with a cold light.
A sharp knife needs no sharpening; it is an excellent weapon in itself.
But he still reached out, dipped some water into the basin, and then began polishing again.
The coolness of the water droplets and the icy coldness of the blade constantly seeped through my fingertips; it seemed that only in this way could I calm the trembling panic in my heart.
The boy was completely focused; in the dim night, only the soft scraping sound of the blade could be heard.
After a long while, the sharp, gleaming knife, covered in marks from being sharpened, was in his hand.
The boy's once innocent eyes now held a calmness that didn't belong to an adult.
"Third Master, Third Master..."
He muttered to himself and swung the sharp knife in his hand wildly and haphazardly a few times.
Finally, he solemnly inserted the sword into the damaged scabbard and hid it under his wrist.
The boy was only eleven or twelve years old and didn't have many tricks up his sleeve; he didn't know how to poison or rob and kill.
When he began sharpening his knife, he gave up many things, a principle he didn't understand when he heard it from the storyteller.
After what that person said today, he seemed to understand a little better.
In the shadows, a figure moved with the help of darkness.
The boy was familiar with the streets and alleys and understood the movements of these important figures. Sometimes, a mere collision or insult could cost him his life.
They held their own lives in their hands, and there were too many cases that gave them a reason not to be careless.
At this moment, the streets are deserted, and the alleys are shrouded in mist.
The Wanqing Tower was brightly lit, filled with all sorts of beautiful women, some dressed in plain gauze and thin clothes, uttering soft, coquettish moans.
Wanqinglou was a notorious den of iniquity in the streets and a place that Third Master frequented.
Across the alley, a boy leaned against a wall, his hand constantly stroking the scabbard beneath his wrist, his face obscured by darkness.
Only his pale face reflected the boy's naive and inexperienced emotional changes.
"This is murder!" he repeated to himself over and over again.
Half an hour later, in the dim light of the lanterns in the distant shops, a fat man, reeking of alcohol and completely drunk, staggered towards them.
"My beauty~~ Why is it so dark now~ *hiccup*"
"Don't go! Play a little longer!"
Third Master kept letting out consecutive hiccups and lewd, teasing murmurs, his steps unsteady.
It was only a few dozen steps, but it took them half an hour to walk.
Upon hearing that familiar voice in the alley, the boy trembled for a moment.
No matter how determined he is, he will eventually feel fear when the moment actually arrives.
The boy pursed his lips, clenched his teeth, puffed out his cheeks, and tightened his grip on the knife.
Then, as if immense courage had been summoned within him, he merged with the darkness and slowly walked forward.
As Third Master staggered drunkenly, a heavy impact echoed through the darkness.
"You fucking bastard, you're asking for it!"
The alcohol was getting to him, and the unsteady Third Master lost his balance and started cursing.
Without a sound, a sharp knife was plunged straight into the throat.
The force was so great that the boy was forced back several steps by the Third Master's body.
Immediately afterwards, Third Master opened his mouth, and a heavy panting sound came out.
He was rendered speechless, and blood spurted from his neck with each breath.
His face turned deathly pale, and just as he was about to reach out, his body, already intoxicated by the alcohol, could no longer muster any strength.
With a thud, he fell to the ground and died silently.
After an unknown amount of time, the boy strode forward, his face now radiating an uncontrollable madness.
He quickly pulled out the dagger and stabbed it repeatedly into Tiger's bloated body, venting his past hatred and oppression.
Blood gushed out, turning him into a blood-soaked figure.
Half an hour later, Third Master's body had become mangled beyond recognition. Another knife was plunged in and twisted violently.
Reaching out from the bloodied and mangled chest, he pulled out a warm heart.
The boy raised his hands high and let out a roar that released his inner rage!
"Hahahaha~~~"
In the darkness, his eyes were sharp, as if burning with some invisible conviction, as he laughed wildly.
Today, he drew blood, and completed that seemingly casual remark.
But then, in the next second, the sound of a night watchman striking his clapper rang out.
Meanwhile, the footsteps of night patrols overlapped.
The boy's face turned pale instantly, and for a moment, he felt somewhat dazed.
He stared blankly at his hands, which were covered in blood, and a still-warm, bloody heart seemed to be beating.
A wave of nausea washed over him, and the obsession fueled by revenge vanished in an instant.
Instead, a dizzying sense of panic washed over me, and my thoughts froze for a moment.
As the footsteps drew closer, the boy bit his lip tightly, his body trembling uncontrollably. It seemed like a moment had passed, yet also like an eternity.
The boy's stiff legs slowly recovered, and clutching his bloodied heart, he turned and ran.
But after running only a few steps, that phrase suddenly came to mind again, and his body froze instantly.
I looked up and saw several shadows gradually approaching in the light of the lanterns.
He quickly ran back to the mangled corpse, a tremendous force bursting from his chest.
With a fierce expression, he held the knife in both hands and slashed viciously at Third Master's neck, which was hidden by the wrinkles under his chin.
One cut, a sharp knife stuck in the cervical spine.
Two more cuts, and blood splattered again.
With three slashes, the blade struck the floor, and a head rolled slightly. The boy grabbed the Third Master's hair and clutched his heart in one hand.
After his blood rushed to his head, he sped up and ran into the dark alley.
The alley was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
In the shadows, the boy seemed to feel as if he had bumped into a wall.
The boy staggered, and the severed head and heart fell to the ground.
He stared blankly at the wall and slowly took out a fire tumbler.
A flame ignited, dispelling the darkness and revealing a familiar face.
"Good, you're very good."
"By the way, kid, what's your name?" the man asked again, glancing at the two broken organs on the ground.
"Gu Chong, the Chong of Chong Mountain!"
The boy was filled with a mix of emotions: excitement, surprise, and relief, which eventually settled into a calm.
"Don't worry, you've proven yourself. I'll take responsibility for your karmic ties with the Torch Gang."
Then, the young man knelt on one knee, his voice hoarse, and slowly lowered his head, "Thank you, thank you, Young Master Feng~"