Chapter 7: Assassination
Three days later, the night was thick.
Deep in Dumb Bay, Widow Chen's dilapidated boat was hidden in the darkness.
Damp night wind, carrying the scent of cheap cosmetics, seeped through the window cracks, and in the flickering candlelight, two intertwined bodies on the wooden planks were illuminated.
Qian Ye was casually draped in his outer garment, in the post-coital state of laziness and emptiness.
Widow Chen wrapped around him like a water snake, her crimson-painted fingertips drawing circles on his chest: "Qian Ye, that old geezer surnamed Ma keeps bothering me, his thieving eyes are practically glued to me..."
"Got it."
Qian Ye narrowed his eyes and exhaled a puff of smoke, the knife scar on his Adam's apple wriggling with his swallow.
He glimpsed the swaying tree shadow on the window paper and suddenly, annoyed, pushed away the person on him.
"Qian Ye."
Widow Chen, with a half-real, half-feigned whimper, pleaded, "Stay tonight, I'm a little scared."
"No!"
Qian Ye abruptly pulled his arm back, grabbed an embroidered mandarin duck bellyband, and haphazardly wiped himself down.
Outside the window, the sound of night cats fighting could be heard, and his fingers trembled slightly as he tied his belt.
The Tiger Gang was coming fiercely, and the two Gangs were fighting with bloodshot eyes for territory; at this critical juncture, survival was more important than romance.
He knew too well the heinous, despicable deeds he had committed over the years that would sever his descendants, and he also knew how many people wanted to devour him alive.
Losing his life for a night of pleasure was an extremely foolish act.
"Qian Ye!" Widow Chen tugged at his sleeve, revealing half of her fair shoulder.
In this world, it was not easy for a woman like her, without a man, to survive.
"Slap!"
Qian Ye slapped her hard, "Get lost!"
Immediately, a five-finger mark appeared on Widow Chen's cheek, raised high, and her expression was somewhat startled.
Qian Ye fastened his belt and quickly stepped off the boat.
Leaving behind only the messy cabin and the woman's suppressed, intermittent sobs.
"Hoo—!"
Stepping ashore, Qian Ye let out a heavy breath, his brows furrowed into a knot.
The feuds he had accumulated over the years were enough to hang him ten times over, so he had always practiced the 'cunning rabbit has three burrows' philosophy.
The night deepened, and the entire Dumb Bay was dead silent.
Only his own footsteps echoed in the empty alley, sounding particularly harsh.
He subconsciously quickened his pace, almost breaking into a run.
Just as he plunged headlong into the depths of a narrow, one-person-wide dark alley, he suddenly heard a "creak" behind him, like a shoe crushing a dry branch.
Qian Ye's hair stood on end, and he sharply turned his head, but it was too late.
A thick hemp rope, soaked in tung oil, had coiled around his neck like a venomous snake.
"Hmph—!"
Qian Ye's eyeballs bulged, and the instinct for survival made his hands frantically claw at the death rope on his neck, his fingernails scraping against the rough hemp rope with a harsh sound, leaving bloody white marks.
From the darkness came a "creak, creak" of tightening, the hemp rope digging deep into his flesh, his throat bones groaning under the unbearable pressure.
He struggled futilely, his feet kicking wildly, his body desperately pushing backward, but the noose around his neck tightened further and further.
Each futile gasp only brought back a burning sensation of suffocation, his lungs feeling as if they would explode.
In the shadows, Chen Qing's eyes flashed with cold light.
He had been waiting for three days and finally found an opportunity.
At this moment, he was tightly pulling the hemp rope, his palms red and raw from the friction.
"Aiya—!"
Qian Ye let out a strange cry, his body being dragged backward, stumbling, trying to counteract with his weight.
Chen Qing suddenly spun around, his back slamming against the cold, hard brick wall.
Using the wall as a support point, he fiercely pushed off with his feet, and the core strength of his waist and abdomen instantly erupted.
Their entangled figures were cast by the moonlight onto the mottled wall, twisted and distorted, like wild beasts fighting to the death, one struggling for survival in despair, the other taking a life in dead silence.
Due to extreme lack of oxygen, Qian Ye's face turned from crimson to bluish-purple.
Bulging veins pulsed wildly on his forehead and temples, as if countless dying earthworms had burrowed under his skin.
Chen Qing's killing intent was set, veins bulging on his hands as he desperately pulled the rope.
Tens of breaths later, Qian Ye felt it like a century.
His struggling grew weaker and weaker, his kicking feet gradually fell, and his hands, clawing at the rope, also drooped powerlessly.
But Chen Qing did not loosen his grip in the slightest; instead, he pulled even harder.
His arms trembled violently from the sustained effort, and his teeth were almost ground to dust.
"Crack! Crack!"
A chilling sound of bone breaking came from Qian Ye's neck.
Chen Qing's taut nerves finally relaxed abruptly, as if all his strength had been drained, and he slowly released his already numb and stiff hands.
"Thud!"
Qian Ye's corpse fell heavily to the ground.
Chen Qing leaned against the wall, panting heavily, sweat mixed with unknown stains from somewhere sliding down his forehead.
He wiped his face and looked down at his burning palms; the blood blisters in his palms were already ruptured, a bloody mess.
"Hoo—!"
Chen Qing exhaled a breath, stomped his right foot with all his might, and fiercely stepped on Qian Ye's twisted neck, a vital spot.
"Crack!"
The neck bone shattered in response, completely cutting off his life.
More importantly, this kick also stomped the rope marks into a bloody mess, making it impossible to discern their original form.
The finishing blow, it must be thorough.
He did not pause for a moment, exerting force with his feet, like a cold grinding wheel, he swiftly and heavily stomped several times on Qian Ye's finger bones, sternum, and lower vital points.
Only after confirming that all traces were erased or obscured did Chen Qing stop his actions.
He quickly bent down and picked up Qian Ye's belongings and the hemp rope.
His movements were clean and precise, without any sloppiness.
Having done all this, his figure flashed, and he quickly disappeared into the depths of the alley, leaving only the heavy smell of blood lingering in the air.
Dumb Bay, a street.
Under the moonlight, Chen Qing looked at his trembling hands, which still retained the rough texture of the hemp rope.
He had expected to be afraid, to vomit, but there was only an icy calm in his heart.
Killing is a matter of either never or countless times.
He had to adapt to this current world.
Chen Qing took out Qian Ye's purse, and dozens of large coins fell into his palm.
"Is this all the copper coins there are?"
Chen Qing was somewhat disappointed; he had originally thought Qian Ye would have some money, but he turned out to be a pauper as well.
If people like Qian Ye were dirt poor, not to mention ordinary impoverished commoners.
Chen Qing lowered his head, tightly clutching the copper coins in his hand.
You are what you eat; suffering does not make you superior.
Only by consuming others can one rise.
The next morning, Dumb Bay, boat district.
"Have you heard? Qian Ye was done for!"
"How arrogant he was last month when collecting 'Dragon King Incense'!"
"Shhh, the Jinhe Gang is desperately searching for the killer, saying they'll dismember him."
The neighbors in Dumb Bay were buzzing with discussion; when the news of Qian Ye's death spread, countless people secretly clapped their hands in glee.
Zhou Yard, morning practice.
The Disciples gathered in a circle, their gaze focused on Zhou Liang in the center of the training ground.
"Tongbei Fist is not a fancy show of moves."
Zhou Liang's voice was not loud, "It emphasizes 'long reach, sudden strikes, crispness, and speed'; its essence is not in 'performance,' but in 'killing'!"
His gaze was like lightning, sweeping over the Disciples: "The Foundation of punching and fighting lies in stance work and Qi and blood; bones and muscles are weapons, and strength is the sharp edge. Today, we won't talk about flashy routines, only how to take a life in combat!"
As soon as he said this, Chen Qing immediately held his breath.
He knew that today, Master was going to demonstrate his true skill.
"Sun Shun!" Zhou Liang called out in a low voice.
"Disciple here!" Sun Shun immediately stepped forward, assuming a grave, defensive stance.
"Watch closely!"
Before Zhou Liang had finished speaking, his entire Aura suddenly changed, like a fierce ape poised to strike.
Zhou Liang's body remained still, but his right arm suddenly shot out as if boneless, so fast it left only an afterimage, his five fingers pressed together like a bird's beak, not a straight punch, but with a cunning arc, lightning-fast, pecking at Sun Shun's 'Yifeng acupoint' below his earlobe.
"Snap!" A crisp sound, not a heavy blow, but a precise point strike.
Although Sun Shun was prepared, his body still instinctively trembled, his head involuntarily jerking to the side and back, leaving his guard wide open.
"This move, 'Thunderclap Strikes the Window,' is also called 'Striking Acupoint and Jaw.'"
Zhou Liang withdrew his hand and said coldly, "A light strike to this acupoint causes dizziness, a heavy strike kills. The strength of Tongbei lies in catching the opponent off guard, attacking where they must defend, breaking their balance with one strike, and seizing their consciousness."
On the other side, as Sun Shun had just stabilized his stance, Zhou Liang's left hand had already snaked out silently like a venomous serpent, his arm seemingly extending out of thin air, his five fingers forming a claw, bringing a sharp whistle that tore through the air, directly aiming for Sun Shun's throat.
This claw was exceptionally vicious, the penetrating power contained in his fingertips seemed capable of piercing leather.
Chen Qing knew that this move was called 'White Ape Breaks Throat,' locking the throat and shattering armor.
Sun Shun was greatly alarmed, and in a hurry, he crossed his arms to block and protect his throat.
"Hiss!"
Zhou Liang's claw did not strike directly but slid in like a venomous snake along the inside of Sun Shun's blocking forearm, his fingertips like hooks, precisely aiming for the 'Tiantu acupoint' below Sun Shun's Adam's apple.
The claw wind was fierce; Sun Shun's neck skin instantly broke out in goosebumps, feeling as if his throat bone had been locked by an icy iron hook.
Zhou Liang's fingertips stopped steadily just as they touched the skin, but that bone-chilling killing intent made cold sweat instantly seep from Sun Shun's forehead.
"The throat is a death spot! The cunning of Tongbei lies in avoiding the solid and striking the void, finding gaps to enter; the power of the fingers and claws can shatter the throat and break bones in an instant!"
Zhou Liang withdrew his stance, his breathing steady, as if those two fierce and deadly moves were just casually executed.
The training ground was dead silent.
The Disciples' faces were pale, and even their breathing was careful.
When they practiced boxing daily, they mostly focused on the rules of moves and complete exertion of force; never had they seen Master so nakedly display the deadly killing intent contained within the boxing techniques.
Those precise strikes to vital acupoints, the cunning throat locks, each move aimed at the most vulnerable parts of the human body, seeking not victory or defeat, but instantaneous destruction.
Zhou Liang looked around, "Did you see clearly? This is the fighting method of Tongbei Fist. Practicing martial arts is about the ability to kill enemies and protect your life. Stance work tempers your muscles, bones, Qi, and blood; fighting techniques train your ruthlessness and accuracy. When fighting a person, it's not a competition on a stage. Between life and death, there's no room for hesitation or flashy moves."
"Remember!"
Zhou Liang said loudly, "Boxing routines are for you to remember the 'rules' of strength conversion, body movement, and footwork coordination. But in the face of an enemy, you must forget all these 'rules.' Your mind should only focus on one point: how to use the fastest, most ruthless, and most effective way to strike down and destroy your opponent, attacking their vital points, breaking their Foundation. This is 'killing technique.'"
"Practicing martial arts without cultivating skill is a waste of effort in old age; cultivating skill without understanding the principles means death in combat."
Chen Qing felt a chill rise from his spine, rushing to the top of his head, his heart pounding incessantly.
Those few moves were brutal, direct, and extremely efficient attacks.
It wasn't a performance; it was the naked Law of survival.
True combat means attacking by surprise, striking at vital points, not being constrained by form, only seeking to defeat the enemy with one blow.
Zhou Liang finally said, "If you want to live, you must cultivate this ruthlessness and accuracy. Now, go practice."
"Yes!"
All the Disciples responded in unison.
Sun Shun stepped forward and said, "Junior Brother Chen, let's go a few rounds."
"Alright!"
Chen Qing took a deep breath, suppressed his turbulent emotions, and assumed his stance.
Under Sun Shun's guidance and sparring, Chen Qing began to truly practice the fighting techniques of Tongbei Fist.
Starting from the first move, "Thunderclap Strikes the Window," sweat quickly soaked his back.