6: He rose two levels in quick succession, plotting revenge.

As the faint blue light of the fifteenth demon core completely extinguished, the last wisp of True Qi at Lin Yang's fingertips was precisely drawn back into his Dantian.

Within the silver-gray powder that littered the courtyard, the cold Demonic Qi unique to a sixth-rank demon core still lingered, but it had already been refined by the Chaos Swallowing Heaven Art into a gentle stream of energy, winding through his Meridians.

"Hah..." He slowly opened his eyes, two faint golden streams of light flashing in his pupils before vanishing into the depths of his irises.

For the past ten days, he had maintained a cross-legged posture; the bluestone slab beneath him had been eroded by the force of his True Qi into fine patterns, like the roots of an old tree.

When the final surge of energy broke through the shackles of the Peak of the Acquired Fifth Layer, his Dantian's Qi Sea suddenly expanded threefold, and the previously mist-like True Qi abruptly condensed into a liquid state, surging like a tide within his Qi Sea.

"Acquired Sixth Layer... It's done!"

Lin Yang flicked his finger, and the True Qi bursting from his fingertip actually carved a faint sound of breaking air in the atmosphere.

He lowered his head to look at his palm; thirteen acupuncture points were faintly visible beneath his skin, like stars embedded in his bones, each breath drawing the surrounding Spiritual Qi to vibrate slightly.

These were the three new acupuncture points automatically opened during the Breakthrough, located at the Jianjing, Quchi, and Yongquan, increasing the speed of his True Qi circulation by another twenty percent.

The morning light shone through the window lattice onto him, revealing the power quietly surging beneath his muscle lines.

As he stood up, his bones emitted a series of crisp cracks, as if a rusted machine had been freshly lubricated.

Walking to the millstone-sized bluestone in the courtyard, he took a deep breath, slowly raised his arms to his chest, and as his fists faced each other, pale white True Qi mist already swirled around his ten fingertips.

"Tiger Shadow Fist, Sixth Form: Tiger Strikes the Six Harmonies!"

Before his thought even faded, his Dantian's Qi Sea surged violently.

He stepped forward with his left foot, bent his knees to ninety degrees, and the instant his right fist struck out like a thunderbolt, a faint vortex of air swirled around his body.

Seven fist shadows, indistinguishable from the real thing, appeared in the morning light, each shadow bearing variegated tiger stripes, fangs bared, emitting a silent roar.

"Hum—"

Before the fist shadows even touched the bluestone, spiderweb-like cracks had already appeared on the stone's surface.

The seven forces struck simultaneously; the dull boom sent the sparrows outside the courtyard flying in a panic. The millstone-sized bluestone, like glass struck by a giant hammer, first shattered with a bowl-sized gap in the center, then disintegrated with a cracking sound, fragments splattering onto the wall of the woodshed a zhang away, leaving shallow pits.

Lin Yang shook his slightly numb right fist, a scorching heat still lingering on his knuckles from when the fist shadows left his body.

He leaned over to pick up a fragment; the stone, cold to the touch, actually had scorch marks from being burned by the True Qi.

"With all Seven Shadows released, the power is more than four times stronger than the fifth form." He weighed the fragment, "But the consumption of True Qi has also doubled; with my current Qi Sea capacity, I would be exhausted after throwing nine punches at most."

The water vat in the corner of the courtyard reflected his tall, straight figure; his shoulders, which seemed slightly thin ten days ago, could now support a heavier murderous intent.

He suddenly remembered the sight of Uncle Liu lying in a pool of blood—those two lackeys of Lin Dongping, one used an iron ruler to break the old man's leg, while the other grinned as he snatched away the last half-bag of life-saving medicinal herbs.

At that time, he could only hide in the hay pile of the woodshed, biting his teeth to the point of breaking just to keep from rushing out to his death.

"Lin Zhong, Zhao San..." Lin Yang whispered these two names, his fingertips digging deep into his palms, "It's time to let you taste the feeling of having your bones crushed inch by inch."

He turned and walked to the center of the courtyard, deliberately releasing his aura of the Acquired Sixth Layer.

The True Qi spread out like invisible water ripples, brushing against the foxtail grass on the wall and startling the swallows nesting under the eaves.

This aura was neither ostentatious nor subtle, just enough to be perceived by those who cared—he wanted Lin Dongping's eyes and ears to know that the Lin Yang who was once bullied by everyone was no longer the same.

When dusk arrived, Lin Yang was wiping that rusted firewood knife.

The blade flashed with a cold light in the moonlight, and he suddenly heard very light footsteps outside the courtyard wall, which then fell into silence.

A cold arc curled at the corner of his mouth; he tucked the knife back into his waist, and as he turned back into the house, he conveniently pulled the half-open wooden door shut.

The window paper reflected his figure sitting alone under the lamp; on the table lay a yellowed piece of paper, on which the layout of the east end of the town was sketched with a charcoal pen—Lin Zhong's gambling den and Zhao San's butcher shop were no more than fifty steps apart, with a narrow alley between them that could only fit two people walking side by side.

The ink blurred into a small blob on the words "narrow alley," like bloodstains already foreseen.

"First break the left claw, then remove the right fang." Lin Yang tapped his fingertips on the paper, "Lin Dongping, your good days are coming to an end."

The night wind passed through the alley, carrying the hubbub of the distant restaurant and the scent of nearby firewood, blowing the copper bell hanging on the window lattice.

The bell sounded crisp, but it could not mask the smell of blood quietly permeating the small courtyard.