They tracked me down fast.
Jiang Heng sneered inwardly.
The guard spotted him, froze for a split second, then grinned wickedly, charging with a feral snarl.
“A lapdog thinks he can take me?”
Jiang Heng’s expression was calm as he unleashed a flying kick.
With [Godspeed], his leg muscles surged with power. The kick’s force was monstrous.
The charging guard was hurled back at terrifying speed.
Boom!
His body slammed into a roadside mud wall, shattering it. Debris rained down as blood frothed from his mouth, eyes bulging. He was dead on the spot!
He killed a guard with one kick?!
The crowd swallowed hard, stunned. Those nursing petty schemes felt their hearts sink.
This lean, refined-looking youth was a ruthless beast!
Jiang Heng’s strike was deliberate. He wasn’t bloodthirsty, but this guard, as Zhao’s crony, had aided in betraying mountain folk to the Witch Clan’s rituals.
He deserved death.
As the dust settled, a roar erupted nearby.
“Little bastard, I’ve finally found you!”
Jiang Heng’s exploits in Tiger Pass Town had made him easy to track. Sly Zhao, a seasoned hunter, sprinted from the street’s end, his form swelling like a galloping steed—imposing and swift.
Jiang Heng didn’t budge, standing his ground.
Days of medicinal meals and [Godspeed] had skyrocketed his strength. He’d been itching to test himself against Zhao.
Perfect timing.
But Zhao didn’t attack.
Seeing his dead lackey, his face flickered with shock and doubt.
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That guard, though not elite, had eaten medicinal meals and boasted robust strength—far above mountain folk or loggers.
Yet Jiang Heng had crushed him with one kick?
The force and precision made Zhao question if he could’ve done it so cleanly.
“Did you stumble on some fortune in the mountains?”
Zhao’s voice was low, envy and hatred churning within.
Behind him, more lackeys arrived, exchanging glances.
“This kid got a lucky break?”
Their emotions were a tangle—fear, jealousy, defiance.
Fear, because if Jiang Heng could obliterate Song the guard, he could crush them too.
Jealousy, because they’d toiled for years, burning silver on meals and training, barely scraping by as guards.
Yet this kid, a mountain dweller days ago, could now kick them to death?
The gap was maddening. Some nearly wept.
“Fortune or not, what’s it to you, Zhao? You’ve got your men plastering my face on posters—what’s your game?”
Jiang Heng’s tone was icy, addressing Zhao by name without a shred of respect.
Zhao’s face darkened to iron.
Just days ago, this kid groveled, calling him “lord.” Now, he spat Zhao’s name like dirt, giving no face.
“Bold words for a filthy mountain dog! Let’s see what fortune’s made you so cocky!”
Zhao roared, drawing his saber and slashing at Jiang Heng.
As a veteran hunter, he’d saved enough to buy a martial arts manual, training relentlessly. Though he hadn’t mastered it, his skill was formidable. The slash was lightning-fast, its howl like thunder, momentum terrifying.
Zhao’s raw strength was less than Jiang Heng’s, but his technique unified his body, channeling every ounce of power into the blade.
The strike was a blur, slicing the air with explosive force.
But Jiang Heng was ready.
He didn’t dare underestimate Zhao, activating [Godspeed]. Heat surged through his legs, power boundless.
He kicked at Zhao’s saber.
Bang!
A deafening thud rang out.
The kick struck the blade’s back, deflecting the slash. A massive force reverberated through the saber, numbing Zhao’s grip.
Damn, this brat’s strength is insane!
Zhao’s face twisted. He’d underestimated this mountain kid.
“Hahaha, well played, Brother Jiang!”
Zhao suddenly laughed, switching to a respectful tone.
The shift stunned his lackeys.
The boss is backing down?!
He can’t even take this kid?!
This guy’s that strong?
“Misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding! We’re friends now, no harm done!”
Zhao grinned, all warmth and apology, eyeing Jiang Heng.
“Misunderstanding? You come at me with blades and curses, and now it’s all fine?”
Jiang Heng’s voice was cold.
What a shameless bastard. One moment, Zhao’s spewing venom; the next, he’s playing brother.
“My mistake, Brother Jiang. Let me make amends—a small token of apology.”
Zhao tossed a pouch of silver ingots, chuckling. “Just keep what happened here quiet, alright?”
His glance was loaded, hinting at the Witch Clan betrayal.
Realizing Jiang Heng’s hunter-level strength, Zhao no longer saw him as a loose end to silence. Now, Jiang Heng was someone to negotiate with—a peer.
His status had leapt forward in Great Qing’s hierarchy.
But Zhao’s heart seethed. As he bowed, a glint of malice flashed in his eyes.
Jiang Heng nudged the pouch with his foot. At least thirty taels.
Old hunter, huh? Generous move.
But his thoughts were icy.
Betray hundreds to the Witch Clan and think thirty taels will shut me up?
Zhao meant the ritual treachery.
After a moment, Jiang Heng hooked the pouch with his foot, tucking it into his robe.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled faintly.
I’ll take the silver and still expose you.
When Zhao learned Jiang Heng had ratted him out despite the bribe, his face would be a sight.
Can’t wait.
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