Chapter Forty-Nine: Prelude to Darkness

Shocked, Kou Li exhaled deeply, secretly chastising himself for overthinking. No matter how tumultuous the martial world might be, what did it have to do with him? Besides, mastering martial arts was far from easy.

The Burned Body Martial Hall supported only a few dozen people, offering nothing more than basic food and bone broth. Even so, every day Luo Dunzi wore a face so pained it could squeeze water. No matter how wealthy the imperial court was, sustaining thousands of martial artists seemed impossible—unless they disbanded the rest of the army entirely.

A tense, yet uneventful, half-stick of incense passed. Chu San and Crocodile Boy swam over as well, donned the uniforms of the imperial soldiers without a word. Neither was good at stealth; once inside, it would be almost impossible not to be detected, so they had no choice but to disguise themselves as soldiers.

"Damage the drawbridge," Kou Li instructed, "so when we escape, the soldiers won't be able to pursue."

"Don't worry, we're all in the same boat," Crocodile Boy gritted his teeth. "Brother, my life and everything I own are riding on you. If you don't make it out, neither will I!"

Kou Li nodded. If this operation failed, Lu Zhixiong would become untouchable, enjoying wealth and glory in a single stroke. For Crocodile Boy, that would be worse than death, so he truly was betting everything on this.

Two figures slipped away, vanishing inside the naval camp.

What greeted their eyes was a scene of merriment. Soldiers gathered around bonfires, feasting on good food and wine, while the towering, half-built ships served as perfect cover.

The naval camp was, in truth, a vast military base and port. Sand ships, Eagle ships, Mother-and-child ships, Fire Dragon ships rose and fell in waves. These were the very vessels that allowed the imperial navy to dominate the southeastern coast.

In the early days of the Qinghai campaigns, the imperial navy was no match for the pirates, losing ships as soon as they launched. At their most brazen, pirate ships sailed straight to the headquarters of the Tower Ship Division and pillaged with unbridled arrogance.

Yet the pirate kings underestimated one thing: when the court committed itself, the nation's full resources—human, financial, material—were beyond their wildest imaginings.

When warships were launched like dumplings into boiling water, hundreds at a time, the so-called Kings of the East Sea or Ryukyu were doomed. Repeated campaigns bred capable commanders; this Lord Shen, infamous as the Fire General among the Four Generals of Wind, Fire, Mountain, and Forest, was a scourge, pillaging and burning with ferocity.

"Five hundred yards away, footsteps," Kou Li whispered.

With that, Ghost Shadow's tail moved like a rattlesnake, slithering into a hidden corner in a few swift motions. His breathing was almost imperceptible, and even his shadow seemed absent from the ground.

Kou Li's eyes flickered; the opponent's movement technique contained strange variations. As their steps shifted, even their shadow vanished. Even standing right behind him, Kou Li couldn't discern how it was done.

Footsteps arose, then faded; the two figures vanished once more.

Their coordination was uncanny. Kou Li's enhanced hearing, paired with Ghost Shadow's movement techniques and experience, allowed them to evade wave after wave of enemies. Even the greatest thief of the southeast secretly marveled—if he had possessed such skills, he might never have fallen into the Water Dragon Gang's trap.

"Is there any way you could teach me your movement technique?" Kou Li suddenly asked as they moved.

"You want to become my disciple?" Ghost Shadow countered after a pause.

"No, I just want to learn your technique. Name your terms."

"Terms?" Ghost Shadow let out a cold laugh. "I spent fifteen years perfecting Shadow Step. The Water Dragon Gang tortured me for half a year and never got what they wanted. You think you can just ask for it?"

"I believe, with enough price, anything is possible."

"Unless you have the means to destroy the Water Dragon Gang and avenge my great grudge."

"Very well."

Seeing Kou Li's earnestness, Ghost Shadow cursed him inwardly for his audacity. The Water Dragon Gang's Four Tigers and Eight Wolves were formidable; it wasn't something one could simply deal with.

Soon, they felt the defenses tighten, narrowly avoiding detection several times.

"See?" Ghost Shadow narrowed his eyes. The naval commander's insignia and banner were in the main tent five hundred yards away, with food and drink continually brought inside.

The security here was even stricter. Among the guards, at least five or six seasoned martial artists lurked, their movements silent as the grave.

"Give me the goods; I'll go to the kitchen and add the medicine. With your movement technique, you won't fool these eagle-clawed soldiers," Ghost Shadow said coldly.

Kou Li nodded, knowing he spoke the truth, and handed over a porcelain bottle—the same leopard fetus pills he had won on the gambling ship.

Strictly speaking, the pills were a tonic rather than a poison, so they couldn't be detected with conventional methods. But in excess, they drove people mad.

This time, Kou Li had no intention of assassinating anyone. What he wanted was for the imperial soldiers and Zhu Baozai's men to slaughter each other. When neither side achieved their aims, the intermediary—Lu Zhixiong and his ilk—would bear the wrath of both.

Ghost Shadow's movement technique, named Shadow Step, made him seem like a specter, vanishing without a trace. His eerie skills set Kou Li's nerves on edge, as if possessed by a ghost in the night.

Kou Li stared unblinkingly at his companion, his nerves taut. Even in the accomplished state of his child stance, he still felt sweat bead upon him. What he was attempting was akin to snatching the enemy's head from the midst of a thousand soldiers—any misstep meant death without burial.

Knowing he was too tense, Kou Li drew a deep breath, letting it settle in his chest and sink to his dantian. His breathing, guided by his abdomen and heart, became calm. His body and mind entered a state of "nothingness"—loose yet taut, like a tiger lurking in the grass, lazy but ready to pounce.

He didn't know how long he stayed in this state, when suddenly the sound of a wine bowl shattering pierced the darkness, sending ripples across the shadowed camp.

"This official will kill you pirate scum!"

"Imperial hounds, I'll send you to hell!"

Success!

The soldiers and Zhu Baozai's pirates turned on each other, plunging the naval camp into chaos. Some soldiers instantly "understood," thinking it an officer's trap to lure and kill bandits, grabbing bows, crossbows, and muskets to join the slaughter.

Others, knowing the truth and the importance of the deal, tried to stop their mad comrades.

Meanwhile, pirate leaders, already anxious in their enemy's stronghold, saw their hosts trying to kill them. Rage flared; their ferocity erupted, determined to take enemies down with them in a desperate counterattack.

The navy and pirates were mortal enemies; once violence broke out, it couldn't be contained!

Kou Li's lips curled in a faint smile as his eyes swept over the chaos and bloodshed. Suddenly, he spotted a young military officer—tall, cold-faced, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil around him.

Kou Li's enhanced vision caught the characters "Gongsun" on the officer's badge.

The officer's gaze locked onto Kou Li; in a flash, his figure vanished amid the crowd. Kou Li's hair stood on end, as if marked by an evil spirit.

His ten toes gripped the earth, his body sprang three yards forward, dashing toward the camp's edge.

The hiss of burning fuse reached his ears. Without hesitation, he thrust his legs back, scissors-style, flattening himself to the ground. His spine twisted, blood and energy condensed in his hands, turning them black and fierce like demon claws. He clawed at the ground, sending shards of stone flying.

Pain shot through his eyes. Two soldiers instinctively reversed their muskets, two blasts and a cloud of white smoke later, Kou Li felt as though struck by a sledgehammer, instantly losing consciousness—life or death unknown.

As he crossed through the chaos, the sense of danger surged again. Without hesitation, he shook himself like a tiger, dodging two arrows—one at his head, one at his ribs.

His body pressed downward, blood and energy boiling, muscles rippling, chest tucked and back stacked, abdomen drawn in, hips and kidneys raised, back curved like an iron weight. He charged like a fierce tiger up the mountain, shoulder blades flaring like wings, smashing forward. With a crack, like a rolling log, the rattan shield shattered into pieces. Bodies and soldiers behind it were sent flying.

The hard-won "Mandarin Duck Formation" was scattered in an instant.

Kou Li rolled his tongue, expelling his breath. Using the moment of exhaustion, he inhaled fresh air, the heat stirring a gust that extinguished the torch half a yard away.

The battlefield was perilous to the extreme; a single slip of concentration and Kou Li would be torn to shreds.

Like a wild beast thrust from the forest into the city—crowds surging, tense, panicked, unfamiliar—culminating in naked murderous intent that tore everything apart, a wild and frenzied feeling.

If his battle with the Pursuing Soul Wolf merged man and tiger—man as tiger, tiger as man—then now, it was a higher state of slaughter.

Man remained man, martial skills remained martial skills, but the tiger's ferocity became a murderous urge, driving him to destroy everything before him. Unconsciously, Kou Li's eyes glowed red.

At that moment, a fist of iron smashed toward him. Kou Li dropped and rose, left forearm rotating inward, rising with an elbow, clashing with the incoming fist like two iron spears.

Thud!!

A powerful force transmitted through the fist. Kou Li dug his toes into the ground, dragging twin shallow grooves as he let his energy sink to his dantian, power rooted in his legs, finally halting two yards away, steadying his stance. Meanwhile, the officer named Gongsun merely leaned back and launched himself again.

Horse stance, smashing fists, feet on the centerline—shrinking like an egg, bursting like an arrow. In a flash, he shot before his opponent, fist like an iron awl, stabbing at Kou Li's face.

“So fast!”

With a sudden gust, Kou Li stamped his foot, the ground splitting a small hole. He rebounded, assuming the Five-Flower Sitting Mountain stance, arms like iron forks to block the punch.

Yet the opponent suddenly shifted from rigid to supple, forearm soft as noodles, shaking and flicking. After smashing at Kou Li's face with a bow step, he followed with a chopping strike to the head, the force of the blow no less than an iron whip, the air erupting with a crack.

This was close-range southern boxing, yet powered by hard fist techniques.

At the crisis point, Kou Li's mind emptied, clarity rising from the sea of murderous intent. Without hesitation, he thrust his palm forward, advancing instead of retreating, striking close to the face!