Different Year, Same Thing (Part 11)
Ling Qingshu’s six martial uncles made no effort to stop the spoilt brat’s violence. They, as a matter of fact, had a burgeoning urge to enact wild behaviours as they watched him engage in violence.
Ming Suwen’s fragrant scent escaped from her body of art that was revealed after her trousers and sleeves were torn off. The young man who had a reputation as one of the most frequent patrons of brothels – if never paying still qualified him as one – couldn’t fathom why he was starving to dig into her when he had been with more women than he could possibly remember.
The sadistic lump of lust suddenly stopped after he tore off the lower section of Ming Suwen’s dress and removed her outer robe to ask, “… What’s with those calm and hostile eyes of disdain? … You’re my captive, a slave I’ll throw away once I’m done with! How dare you… How dare you give me that look!”
Ming Suwen hiked up a corner of her lips: “… You scared when people aren’t scared of you?”
“What was that?!” Ling Qingshu sprang to his feet and snatched a metal sword from one of his martial uncles to hold up to Ming Suwen’s throat, threatening, “Take that back unless you want to die miserably!”
“Maybe you’re not rotten to the core. It’s sad you’re born in the wrong era,” Ming Suwen jeered. “Mount Lu Sword Sanctuary’s succession system prevents one faction from gaining a monopoly; however, the next generation’s successor won’t be from the ruling faction. As a result, there’s no guarantee each generation will surpass the next. In fact, it produces mediocre successors.
“You know better than anyone else how your father won power. Unfortunately, owing to your ambitious father spoiling you, succeeding him is not written in your destiny. That’s why you have an abusive temperament. Everyone working with you has to constantly be wary of you, and you only keep those who fear you around.
“You’re not afraid of death, but you can’t stand anyone turning your ego flaccid or not cowering before you. You’re not a bad kid; you’re just an immature kid. A dead kid.”
Ling Qingshu’s blood boiled in anger for the first time in his life: “I’m going to kill you.”
“Too late for that.”
Following the response delivered in a booming voice, a gale shook the bamboo forest to its foundation. By the time Ling Qingshu discerned the direction the speaker was at, the speaker was already edging closer. The muscular physique on the man had no bearing on his qingqong whatsoever, zooming through the forest and demonstrating ridiculous aerodynamics with his tumble.
“Martial Uncle Zhou! Martial Uncle Li!”
The man coming over circled with his left arm and thrust his right hand in an uppercut motion from outside Martial Uncle Zhou’s thrusting arm, pounding the swordsman in the ribs, thereby sending him packing.
To counter Martial Uncle Li’s Golden Lotus Divine Swordplay thrust aimed at his accupoint, the man circled with his left arm, paralysing the swordsman’s striking arm with the shockwave generated from the thrusting palm, exposing him to the palm strike that propelled Martial Uncle Li through several trees.
In the split second it took for Ling Qingshu breathed in to call for the next wave, the man ignored Ming Suwen’s hostage situation and landed two palm strikes in close succession. Ling Qingshu’s heart drummed out of control as he pulled his sword back to defend the lethal combo. Ling Qingshu assumed he managed to block the blows successfully once his staggering feet stopped, only to taste blood in his mouth.
Ling Qingshu noticed the weight of his sword felt weird when he tried to flower again. Upon checking it, he discovered it had been turned into a ball of useless metal. He erupted, “Master Ming, you kept us waiting!”
The man stood before Ming Suwen and raised his chin: “Take his title out of your turd-filled mouth.”
Hong Jiu uncorked a dual palm strike, flooring five charging disciples, and thundered, “Open your eyes and look closely. Lord Hong Jiu is enough to smoke you.”