67: Chapter 67 Who did it?

His saber technique had no name; it was a crude, unorthodox style forged in the bloody mire of battlefields. Every slash aimed for a vital spot: the neck, the wrists, the femoral artery.

Efficient. Lethal.

In the past, to kill, he had to rely on dodging and calculation.

Now, it was different.

As long as it wasn't a fatal wound, he simply wouldn't dodge.

A boning knife stabbed into his shoulder, but was caught by his tensed muscles, sinking in only half an inch. Chen Mo countered with a backhand slash, cleanly severing half of the attacker's palm.

This brutal, injury-for-life fighting style was utterly savage.

In less time than it took to drink half a cup of tea, seven or eight men already lay on the ground.

The remaining few were terrified.

They were thugs hired for money, not death-defying warriors.

Faced with this blood-soaked, battle-crazed fiend who seemed to grow stronger and more tireless with each passing moment, their mental defenses shattered.

"A... a ghost!"

Someone shrieked, and the remaining men dropped their weapons, turning to flee.

"Trying to run?"

Chen Mo sneered coldly, his gaze locking onto the man who had been directing things from the back.

He hurled his wild goose feather saber with all his might.

The blade flashed like lightning.

"Thud!"

The long saber pierced the man's calf muscle with pinpoint accuracy, pinning him to the ground.

"Ahhh—"

The man let out a pig-like squeal of agony.

Chen Mo walked over unhurriedly. Passing a corpse, he casually pulled out the boning knife embedded in it.

He reached the man, crouched down, and looked at the face contorted in pain.

"Don't... don't kill me..."

The man wept and sniveled, desperately trying to shrink back.

Chen Mo said nothing. He simply wiped the blood off the boning knife on the man's clothes, then gently pressed the tip against his eyelid.

The icy blade edge made the man tremble violently.

"I ask. You answer."

Chen Mo's voice was calm, a calmness that bred despair. "One wasted word, and I'll cut off an ear. Lie to me, and I'll gouge out an eye."

"I'll talk! I'll talk!"

"Who sent you?"

"I... I don't know..."

Chen Mo flicked his wrist.

"Ah!"

A bloody ear fell to the ground.

"Think again." Chen Mo's voice remained flat, devoid of inflection.

"I really don't know! Sir! Ancestor!" The man clutched his ear, writhing in pain on the ground. "It was just a man in a bamboo hat. He gave us fifty taels of silver to ambush someone in this area. Said we just needed to cripple you, not kill you... He was the middleman! We're just the 'Black Dog Gang,' hired muscle! We usually work as porters on the docks..."

The Black Dog Gang?

Chen Mo frowned.

Such low-level, insignificant Gangs were a dime a dozen in Qingyang City—there were at least eighty, if not a hundred.

Clearly, the person behind this was cautious, having severed the trail.

"The man in the bamboo hat, any distinguishing features?" Chen Mo asked a different question.

"He... he had a very thick callus on the tiger's mouth of his left hand... and his voice was a bit hoarse, like a duck's..."

A callus on the tiger's mouth—a swordsman or a saber practitioner.

A hoarse, duck-like voice...

A few figures flashed through Chen Mo's mind, but none were certain.

"Anything else?"

"N-no... nothing else... Sir, spare me, I have an old mother and young children to feed..."

"Thwip."

The boning knife slit his throat.

Chen Mo stood up, looking down at the corpse with indifferent eyes.

"In your next life, don't get into this line of work."

...

Disposing of the scene was troublesome.

Fortunately, a tributary of the city moat wasn't far away.

Chen Mo efficiently dragged the corpses to the riverbank and searched them.

In total, he found about twelve taels of broken silver, a few hundred copper coins, and several low-quality daggers.

"Pathetic."

Chen Mo cursed under his breath, stuffing the money into his clothes.

Then, one by one, he kicked the corpses into the river.

"Splash. Splash."

Ripples spread, then quickly settled back into calm.

As for the bloodstains on the ground, Chen Mo shoveled some dirt over them and overturned a few garbage bins to mask the smell.

Only after finishing all this did he feel as if his body was falling apart.

The adrenaline rush from the fight had faded, and fatigue washed over him like a tide.

The wound on his shoulder was still oozing blood. The blow to his back, though it hadn't broken any bones, had swollen up, burning with a fiery pain.

Yet, deep down, he felt exhilarated.

A sense of solidity he had never known before.

In the past, faced with such a situation, he'd most likely have died there, or been forced to flee like a beaten dog.

But today, he had faced them head-on and won decisively.

"Returning Origin Strength..."

Chen Mo clenched his fist, sensing that faint but ceaselessly flowing current of Qi within his body.

And this was just the beginning.

If he could achieve Major Achievement, would he truly become impervious to blades and spears?

"The body is the vessel; skill is the oar."

Tiger Li's words echoed in his ears.

Today's battle had made him fully understand the weight of those words.

Without a robust physique to withstand that blow to his back, his saber skills, no matter how good, would have been useless. Conversely, without that ruthless, lethal saber technique, brute strength alone would have made him nothing but a living target.

Both were indispensable.

"Seems I still need to spend life force."

Chen Mo glanced at the panel in the corner of his vision.

Lifespan: 67 years.

Potential Points: 18.5.

The earlier life-and-death struggle, though perilous, hadn't consumed his Origin lifespan. Instead, the stimulation of that near-death experience had caused his 'Returning Origin Strength' proficiency to jump by 1%.

This was the value of real combat.

...

By the time he returned home, it was past midnight.

Not daring to disturb Aunt Zhang and Little Grass, Chen Mo scaled the wall into his own courtyard.

Inside, the stove was cold, the pots empty.

He boiled a large pot of water and poured the two packets of expensive 'bone strengthening powder' into the bathtub.

The medicinal broth turned a murky brown, emitting a pungent herbal odor.

Chen Mo stripped naked and slipped into the tub.

"Hiss—"

The scalding medicinal water stung his wounds, making him suck in a sharp breath.

But he didn't move. Gritting his teeth, he assumed the 'Turtle Play' posture from the Five Animal Frolics, submerging his entire body in the water with only his nose above the surface to breathe.

The medicinal potency seeped into his body through his pores, feeling like countless ants gnawing at his bones.

It was painful, yet pleasurable.

Because he could clearly feel the bruises on his back dispersing, the wound on his shoulder scabbing over, and his depleted blood and Qi gradually replenishing.

Soaking in the medicinal bath, Chen Mo's mind raced.

Who was behind tonight's attack?

The Axe Gang?

Unlikely. Since Tiger Wang had sent the invitation, setting up this 'Hongmen Banquet,' he wouldn't resort to such a cheap ambush the night before. It didn't fit his 'Smiling Tiger' persona and would be too degrading.

The Iron Bone Martial Arts Hall?

Possible. Iron Mountain was known for protecting his own and acting tyrannically. But hiring such lowly thugs as cannon fodder didn't seem like the style of an Inner City martial arts hall.

That left only one possibility.

Liu Feng.

Or one of Liu Feng's dogs.

"This is a test to gauge my mettle."

Chen Mo closed his eyes, a cold sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

If a true expert had been sent, it would mean the other party wanted him dead.

Sending this rabble meant the other party just wanted to see how sharp, how tough, this 'saber of Ye Zhiqiu' really was.

If he couldn't even handle a bunch of thugs, then Chen Mo wasn't worthy of being a pawn. His death would be meaningless.

"Since you want to see, I'll put on a show for you."

Chen Mo's eyes snapped open. He stood up abruptly from the bathtub.