Bronze Mask (Part 3)
The masked individual ignored all the cries below over Song Lian’s demise, standing still whilst staring at the person opposite him with their glimmering red eyes. “Who might you be?”
“This one’s surname is Dugu.” Dugu held his hands up in salute. If nobody believed the lanky masked individual was dangerous yet, then they would now given Dugu confronted them alone. Receiving no response, he continued, “This one begs your pardon for not entertaining you while you were busy committing crimes in the capital.”
The masked individual bound across to another roof.
“You’re not getting away!” As he brayed, Dugu promptly gave chase.
Although Sima Huai utterly defeated Dugu in a qinggong contest back in Nanjiang, Dugu would flog everyone else who participate in the campaign south. Yet, the masked individual managed to keep a fairly constant distance between them. That was not even accounting for the fact that Dugu was familiar with the capital and knew the terrain even better as a secret agent. Technically, Dugu was superior. The distance they covered in one leap, however, was significantly different enough for Dugu to lose track of his target if he didn’t have home-ground advantage.
Seeing as it was risky to extend the chase, Dugu hurled a small shield from his left hand. The shield zoomed passed the masked individual’s side, then curved back to smash him head on, forcing him to go backwards. At the same time, Dugu extended an open hand as he closed the distance. “Freeze!”
Dugu could swear the masked man didn’t move, yet there he was, now two hundred metres away from his original spot. Suffice to say, the masked man raced off to a tall building as soon as he was out of Dugu’s reach.
Dugu was delighted to see the direction his target went. Thus far, Dugu had the overall combat advantage, while the masked man excelled at being elusive. On the other side of the tall building was the city wall, which meant it was a dead end. Therefore, Dugu went as fast as he could, planning to force the suspect into a fight.
Though the masked man didn’t slow down as he advanced straight toward the building, Dugu didn’t slow down. All was proceeding as planned until the masked man suddenly vanished. For a moment, even Dugu thought he was seeing things. Before Dugu could determine where he went wrong, he felt a chill against the nape of his neck.
***
Was the ground blood, or was blood on the ground?
Tiangou swung his blade around whilst panting and jumping up and down beside Jiang Chen. “H-hurts, doesn’t it?”
In spite of his ghastly-white face, tied hands still bleeding and his forehead sodden with perspiration, he wouldn’t even whimper.
“Why don’t you scream if it hurts?! Groan! Woof! Groan!”
“No wonder why your name is Tiangou.” Ming Feizhen condescendingly smiled from behind his veil of dishevelled hair. “You’re a dog through and through.”
Unable to comprehend the insult, Tiangou flapped his gums, but nothing audible came out. Thus, he chopped Ming Feizhen’s shoulder and grinded with his jagged blade. While Ming Feizhen gasped, he still fought off the urge to grunt.
Jiang Chen didn’t smile because he relished Ming Feizhen’s pan; he smiled purely because he found Ming Feizhen interesting. “I thought you’d at least make a sound when we severed your arm tendons since you probably predominately use your hands in combat.”
Because Jiang Chen gave Tiangou the order to “bite”, the latter made Ming Feizhen’s wounds resemble dog bites.
“You crippled my arms and legs, and you want me to satisfy your sick fetish? Aren’t you too demanding?” replied Ming Feizhen.
“You’re misunderstanding me. I don’t mind whether your cry out or not. After all, I’m very busy at the moment, and capturing you isn’t a priority.” Jiang Chen went over to inspect Ming Feizhen’s injuries, shook his head and then walked off to the desk he was sitting at prior to Ming Feizhen regaining consciousness. He took a sheet of paper from the bookshelf, a brush from the brush rack and then stopped to muse. “I’m quite familiar with Mount Daluo, but I wouldn’t say we have bad blood between us, so killing you has never crossed my mind. Regrettably, you’ve involved yourself with our job. We didn’t capture you because it is you. We will spare your life on account of you being a disciple of Mount Daluo.”
Jiang Chen wrote whatever he was intending to write. When he looked up again, he said, “I don’t know the reason behind your loss of skills, but I know there aren’t many reasons something of this manner would beset someone of your calibre. I’m confident you have a solution to your problem. Knowing how eccentric your sect’s members are, I wouldn’t be surprised if your sect possessed a discipline for restoring lost skills. Didn’t your shifu achieve that? I remember we mistook him for being the person we were searching high and low for. I was quite depressed when I found out he was unable to resist the allure of romance. I guess that’s a common factor between our families: we’re both half-complete products.”
Owing to what Jiang Chen said, Ming Feizhen finally understood several things. He was involved in their plot, but he wasn’t the key. He was kidnapped because as a precautionary measure, not because he was a target. Jiang Chen talked about the past because he was acquainted with members of Mount Daluo. Jiang Chen woke him up for a chat because he was interested in him. He wasn’t an important enemy or problem that needed to be resolved. He was merely a pebble in the road, one that Jiang Chen could kick away whenever he wanted. Who shows respect to a pebble? For all he knew, severing his tendons might’ve been just something they did out of habit, not something necessary.
“You can recover lost skills.” Jiang Chen discarded his brush before stuffing the sheet into a brocade pouch. “Howbeit, there aren’t many ways to restore severed tendons. To restore destroyed arm and leg tendons, you have no choice but to find new tendons and a top surgeon to perform the replacement. You could count on two hands the number of people with that skill, and I know most of them. I’m keen to see how you will continue doing what you do, but…”
Jiang Chen went over to the weapon rack and mumbled, “This isn’t too shabby, either. Neither is this one… Hmm… This one.” He took out an iron rod and snapped it with his bare hands, threw away one end and then somehow turned it bright red. “But I don’t like the way you look at me. It’s like you’re saying, ‘I can escape whenever I please, and, right now, I just don’t feel like it.’ I’ve lived for a long time. I want to know what you’re hiding that gives you the confidence.”
White tendrils of smoke whisked from the red rod at the same time the temperature in the room rose. Ming Feizhen’s body jolted as instincts kicked in, forgetting he was immobilised.
“Allow me to remind you.” Jiang Chen leaned on Ming Feizhen as though they were buddies. “Martial artists can’t condense qi no matter what tricks they have up their sleeve once their scapula is locked. Your shifu was no exception.”
Blood came out of Ming Feizhen’s shoulders as if they were broken geysers. Jiang Chen slowly drove the rod through Ming Feizhen’s chest, ensuring the latter could feel the burn as well as the pain of bones being penetrated. At long last, Ming Feizhen grunted until he passed out.
“Ming Shiyue, you lost one opportunity. Your disciple is no exception. Why would he pick this fool as his successor?” Jiang Chen switched his blood-stained garments for a clean set. “I have an appointment tomorrow night, so I’ll be staying in the capital tonight. Tiangou, lock him up back home. Shitou, let us be on our way.”
Once Jiang Chen locked the door behind him, he instructed, “If he makes a scene, finish him.”
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