Chapter Seven: He Who Insults Others Will Be Insulted in Return

“One move down, nine to go,” Jiang Feng said calmly.

“Hmph!” Fang Lin was incredulous. He lunged forward again, hands turning to palms. “That must have been a fluke just now!”

“Splintering Wood Palm!”

Jiang Feng felt a surge of confidence—his Shadow Dance, Soul-Shattering Step was more than enough to deal with this opponent. But he could only use three variations, and the first had no real effect. He couldn’t afford to drag this out; if he repeated the moves too often, those two old foxes would surely catch on. Moreover, this footwork was mentally exhausting—ten steps was his absolute limit, after which he’d collapse to the ground.

If only his cultivation was stronger. With just the first stage of Nether Martial, even if he landed a blow, he couldn’t really harm his opponent.

“What’s going on?” Fang Tu stared wide-eyed, anxiety creeping in. “What kind of nether technique is this? I’ve never heard of the Jiang family possessing such bizarre footwork! Didn’t our informant say he was a useless cripple who couldn’t cultivate? How is this possible?”

“Calm yourself,” Fang Jin shot him a glare. “It’s not a nether technique. I don’t sense any nether force emanating from that boy. This must be some peculiar martial art.”

“Martial art?” Fang Tu’s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Jiang Feng, who was being assailed, his face dark as iron. “He shifted position again! What kind of martial art is this, to be so powerful?”

“How did that useless boy suddenly become so formidable?” Jiang Lei, supporting Jiang Shan, was equally shocked.

“Feng’er, you’ve truly done it,” in contrast, Jiang Xian remained the most composed.

Jiang Feng locked his eyes on the once-more charging Fang Lin and caught a glimmer of madness in the latter’s gaze. This was already Fang Lin’s fourth attack.

“So that’s it?” A faint, mocking smile crept onto Jiang Feng’s lips. He ignored Fang Lin’s fist slicing through the air and took another step forward.

Sure enough, Fang Lin, eyes glazed, barreled past Jiang Feng’s side, his fist swinging into empty space to the right. The wind from his punch scorched Jiang Feng’s cheek.

“Damn it, he feinted me!” Fang Lin roared in fury, planting his feet and blasting forward like a cannonball, attacking straight along Jiang Feng’s right flank. “Let’s see you dodge this time!”

Jiang Feng’s expression shifted; he’d hoped to hold out for a few more moves, but hadn’t expected his adversary to adapt so quickly. With such a direct, linear assault, there was no way to sidestep to the right—he’d have to use the third variation!

Slowly, Jiang Feng’s right foot shifted. Just as Fang Lin crashed toward him, he sprang into motion, drawing a strange arc along the ground.

With a thunderous boom—

In the enlarged pupils of all who watched, Jiang Feng, who had just stepped forward, vanished again, reappearing at the left rear.

Unable to control his momentum, Fang Lin crashed straight into the crowd, eliciting a chorus of miserable groans.

“Damn it!” Fang Lin was stunned, but his humiliation before the masses stoked his rage even more, clouding his mind completely. He forgot about his techniques and lunged straight at Jiang Shan.

Front, right, left-rear—

Jiang Feng moved unpredictably among these three positions, while Fang Lin’s attacks hit nothing but air!

“Nine moves now,” Jiang Feng said with a cold smile, sidestepping another of Fang Lin’s punches.

“Ah!” Fang Lin had long since forgotten the wager. In front of the whole crowd, he couldn’t even touch the clothes of a so-called cripple—anger consumed him.

Just then, Fang Jin’s lips moved slightly. Fang Lin paused for a split second, then his face lit up as he bellowed:

“Twin Wood Killing Fists!”

He pressed both fists to his chest and lunged at Jiang Feng, suddenly striking out from two bizarre angles.

In an instant, the air around Jiang Feng was filled with fist-shadows, sealing off all possible escape routes—whether forward, right, or left-rear, there was nowhere to run.

Yet, Fang Lin’s face turned ashen in that same moment. It was clear that executing such a high-level martial art placed a tremendous strain on his body; no wonder he’d held back until now.

Jiang Feng’s expression darkened, his mind racing—if this kept up, he was bound to be struck by those fists!

“I underestimated him—never expected he had this move!” Jiang Feng clenched his fists. But just as Fang Lin’s fists closed within half a meter of him, Jiang Feng’s sleepy eyes flashed with a strange light.

Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Jiang Feng raised his head and gave Fang Lin a faint smile—before abruptly turning around and sprinting backwards.

Fang Lin’s fists swung through empty air, his momentum unchecked; he crashed to the ground and slid several meters.

“You—you cheated!” Fang Lin’s face, caked in dirt, turned purple with rage.

“When did I cheat? Was there a rule in our wager that I couldn’t run backwards?” Jiang Feng retorted coolly, stepping out from the crowd.

Indeed, there was no such rule. Jiang Feng had used his strange footwork to draw everyone’s attention, especially Fang Lin’s, who’d assumed without question that Jiang Feng would continue using those moves.

But then Fang Jin, his father, had secretly transmitted: the opponent could only shift right or left-rear—unleash the high-level Twin Wood Killing Fists with all your might and victory will be yours.

Thinking the outcome assured, Fang Lin had never expected his foe to break the pattern and flee backwards. Caught off guard, Fang Lin launched his technique from too far away, unable to reach the additional distance behind.

“I don’t believe it—I can’t have lost to a cripple, I can’t!” Fang Lin growled, his eyes wild as he glared at Jiang Feng. “I refuse! You cheated—have the guts to fight me again!”

“Hmph. You couldn’t even touch the hem of my robe, and you think you’re worthy of a rematch?” Jiang Feng sneered, brushing past Fang Lin to stand before Fang Tu, showing not the slightest fear of this Fang family elder—a third-stage Nether Warrior who could easily kill him. “I trust the Fang family is not so petty as to renege on a wager. Or does the bet still stand?”

Fang Tu’s face was shadowed, a murderous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got guts, boy. Seems all the rumors were lies. This time, we were blind; we admit defeat. Fang Lin, hand over the Threefold Pearl. We’re leaving!”

Fang Lin shot Jiang Feng a resentful glare, but reluctantly produced a fist-sized, deep blue pearl from his pocket and hurled it at him in anger.

“Don’t worry, that Threefold Pearl will be yours again soon. I’ve figured out that boy’s strength—his cultivation is pitiful, and he relies solely on that peculiar footwork. I doubt his attacks would even scratch you. That footwork, I’ve also seen through—it only allows movement in two directions. There’s no point lingering here. Next time, we’ll recover all of this, with interest,” Fang Jin murmured.

With that, he dragged a dazed Fang Lin away.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass, all eyes filled with disbelief at their disheveled retreat.

Fang Lin—a fourth-stage Nether Martial expert, said to rival Fang Ming, and possibly on the verge of breaking through to the fifth stage. Among the younger generation of Nine Rock Town, he was quite renowned. Yet today, he couldn’t even touch the hem of a youth’s garment.

The youth hadn’t even used his hands, and still had Fang Lin, a fifth-stage expert, running in circles. If he did use his hands, wouldn’t he easily kill him?

“Who is that boy?”

“I heard he’s that so-called cripple from the Jiang family who couldn’t cultivate at fifteen.”

“Nonsense! Didn’t you see him infuriate Fang Lin to the point of spitting blood? He wasn’t touched even once! With that skill, he must be at least sixth stage, if not higher. How could he be useless?”

“But that rumor’s been around forever, everyone knows it. How do you explain that?”

“You don’t understand. This is what they call ‘hidden depths.’ True experts don’t care for fame. I think Jiang Feng is definitely one of the outstanding youths of Nine Rock Town.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Jiang Feng couldn’t help but smile inwardly as he toyed with the priceless Threefold Pearl in his hand. This was the condensed essence of all the power a third-stage Nether Warrior possessed before death—a priceless treasure for anyone cultivating at the Nether Martial level.

Still, this match had been fraught with danger; he’d nearly lost. Such trickery would only work once. Fang Tu didn’t seem much of a threat, but that cunning Fang Jin had surely seen through him. Next time, it would be hard to escape.

“I must strengthen myself at once!”

He looked up at the retreating Fang family and suddenly called out in a loud voice.

“Fang Lin, Fang Lin—let me leave you with a word before you go. Those who humiliate others will in turn be humiliated. As for this Threefold Pearl, consider it payment for Lan Xin’s medical expenses.”

“Pfft—”

Having never suffered such humiliation in his life, Fang Lin suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood and fainted dead away.