Tang Ye (Part 2)
Initially, Tang Ye naively thought he could flee if he couldn’t win. Once he saw Tang Za’s attitude in his assault, he realised turning his back was the faster way to die. Firstly, his leg wounds hampered his speed when Tang Za was already superior in qinggong. Secondly, Tang Za’s swordplay was extra effective on victims who tried to run from it.
While Tang Ye was weighing his options, Tang Za cut the former’s left arm open. Tang Ye’s blood turned green as soon as it hit the ground. The venom slithered into every nook and cranny of his body to ensure nothing would function as it was supposed to. The tiny amount of poison was sufficient to set Tang Ye’s defeat in stone.
The venom was particularly effective against advanced internal discipline practitioners as their need to mould energy would spread the poison even faster. If a combatant lost their ability to fight as a fight went on, it was obvious what would happen. There weren’t many ways to develop immunity to poison. The most effective way was to just grow accustomed to them. Accordingly, Tang Za once consumed a teeny bit of poison once a week, gradually titrating the dosage. At first, it was absolute hell to deal with. After months of suffering, his body was able to dismiss it so that he could function normally.
Tang Za’s father didn’t know his son developed immunity to poison. His father, in fact, looked down poison, considering it a cheat that only weaklings needed. As such, he refused to study poisons. That proved to be a fatal mistake.
Tang Za remembered his entire body shaking, his grip almost slipping off his sword hilt when he impaled his father through the throat. He couldn’t think of any shock that could surpass the shock he felt when he took his father’s life – excluding his swordplay mentor. To suppress his demons, Tang Za justified his actions as making sure Tang Clan would be strong and, to that end, that eliminating weaklings was a necessity.
Tang Za couldn’t figure out – nor be bothered trying to figure out – why he was so riled up against someone he was about to cut down any second now. Whenever Tang Za performed the swordplay, his target would perish. Through trapping his opponent within his striking range, he’d be able to kill his target, or in today’s case, open a new cut to push his foe of the metaphorical cliff of life. Progress was slow this time, though, vexingly and undesirably slow. He was catching Tang Ye time and time again, yet the latter just wouldn’t go down. The fact that someone he thought lowly of was lasting so long only made Tang Za’s pride suffer more. Tang Za had no clue that Tang Ye had once used a poison expert’s method to improve his own internal energy. While that internal energy was gone, the knowledge and abilities remained with Tang Ye. Poison, regardless of type, no longer affected Tang Ye anywhere near as much as prior to training Poison King’s skills. Additionally, the scorching heat of Yang Blood True Qi was the worst nemesis for poison.
Although injuries gradually took a toll, Tang Ye was able to free his clogged true qi flow, albeit slowly. When he was finally ready to start his own offence, he came out with a whipping fiery punch, forcing Tang Za to haphazardly dodge the fist that would’ve melted his face.
In the past, all their fights had been a one-sided beating with no resistance, let alone a counterattack that nearly turned the tables.
It was Tang Za’s first time dealing with someone who employed such complex style, denying his every attack using different techniques from different disciplines. As much as it bruised his ego, he had to admit that Tang Ye’s execution was exactly what every practitioner of every technique performed should’ve strove for. The best Tang Za could do against the ever-changing plethora of techniques was stopping Tang Ye from escaping.
All else being equal, a betting man would be risking his fortune for a fifty-fifty if he was betting on them. Nevertheless, there was no such thing as an “all else being equal” fight in a life-and-death fight. One of the most important variables was mindset.
Physically, Tang Za had a huge advantage over his wounded foe. The problem was that he forgot he was an assassin. He was supposed to assassinate Tang Ye, not engage him in a fair duel. He should’ve leveraged his comrades’ sacrifices to finish Tang Ye, not engaged in a catch-up session and then forgotten his primary objective. Assassins weren’t supposed to engage in pointless chatter or ignore opportunities to take out their target. He was enraged with the resistance, shocked at his opponent’s competence and then wanted to compete in a contest of skill. The problem was, he was inferior to his opponent who’d been living off combat.
Though none of Tang Ye’s punches landed on Tang Za’s sword, the manner in which he punched convinced Tang Za that he was desperate enough to throw away his life if necessary.
“Every member of Tang Clan has the character ‘death’ carved on their head.”
Tang Za couldn’t name a single past victim of his who could speak under duress, let alone with so much control that it sounded effortless.
“I also bear the Tang surname.”
Tang Ye chopped towards Tang Za at the same time Tang Za went to stab Tang Ye through the gut. The heat burning Tang Za’s skin warned him that they were going to land at the same time and that Tang Ye was taking him down with him. How could Tang Za claim nobody would survive once he used the swordplay if he had to exchange his life for another?
Tang Za changed the trajectory of his sword to dodge, never expecting Tang Ye to change direction, too, and use the rotational force to get his back. Before he knew it, he absorbed a punch to the back of his skull that rocked him.
Tang Za’s swordplay certainly was arguably the ultimate killing swordplay. It was also capable of erasing fear from its victims and wielder.
Tang Ye caught Tang Za as the latter passed out on his feet. He set down his unconscious cousin and said aloud, “Tang Za of Beihai, I hereby arrest you on suspicion of involvement in a homicide two years ago. You can try to hide your secrets all you want, but I have my ways of making you spill all of them.”
Tang Ye took inhaled an abundance of air to prevent himself from passing out. It was impossible to magically recover from the damaged that utilising his essence caused and the fatigue built up in a few minutes. Additionally, the poison that afflicted him was gradually taking an obvious toll. Fortunately, as long as he maintained his usual demeanour, he could fool enemies into thinking he was fine.
“What are you still waiting for? You can come out now,” Tang Ye stated.
Whether it was to observe or otherwise, the individual concealing themselves in the darkness waited a good while before replying, “How did you know this one was here, Brother Tang?”
Based on the appearance of the short person who emerged from the shadows, there was no way he could’ve been older than fourteen. In complete contrast to Tang Za, he had the smile and aura of a child who you’d come across every day at a lively market. He had all the hallmarks of a true assassin. He saw his four comrades go down. He was supposed to finish Tang Ye once the latter dropped his guard before Tang Ye even realised he died. Somehow, though, Tang Ye detected him.
Surprisingly, he didn’t run away as Tang Ye expected him to. Instead, he surveyed Tang Ye as if Tang Ye was some new creature he was seeing for the first time, but Tang Ye knew he was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
Even if the assassin before him wasn’t the toughest fighter, he was unquestionably the shrewdest. Tang Ye was only a shell of his optimal self right now; it was taking everything to just stay conscious, but he couldn’t afford to show any weakness, or the assassin would finish him with his broadsword – Tang Ye’s intuition told him his opponent was a broadsword user. At the same time, he couldn’t play tough guy, or the assassin wouldn’t hesitate to strike because nobody would believe he was still in tip-top shape after fighting the four assassins.
Tang Ye’s survival hinged on selling the illusion that he was baiting out an attack to counter. The moment his lack of desire to fight was noticed, the assassin would no longer have any qualms. As an assassin, he only killed those he was sure he could kill. You couldn’t work in the assassination industry if all you had was brawn. Thankfully for Tang Ye, he was a naturally convincing speaker.
“… I didn’t know. I only saw people… but Tang Za showed himself too fast, making me think he wouldn’t be so reckless unless there was a contingency plan.”
Despite his best efforts to sound normal, Tang Ye’s speech cadence fluctuated, and then his voice gradually softened towards the end. At first, he thought it was over for him, but he didn’t think it was too bad once he spoke. He could write it off as having lost strength from his injuries or misunderstood as bait. Since the ultimate goal was to make his opponent hesitant, why not be a little bolder?
“Smart.” The assassin sarcastically clapped, smiling as though he was anticipating some sort of entertainment from a zoo animal. “All of us made guesses as to who would take you down. The majority of us believed your first assailant would be your last. Tang Za was the only one who insisted he could kill you. I was the only one disputed against the odds, and nobody believed me.”
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