bookpub Chapter 14 Victory
Chapter 14 Victory
Doghead threw dozens more punches, but seeing that Lin Mu was still on the defensive, he thought that Lin Mu had been stunned and relaxed his vigilance, so he reduced the force of his punches.
Lin Mu had been waiting for this opportunity.
He gritted his teeth, and the instant the dog's attack missed its mark, he took a half step forward with his left foot and his right fist came out from his waist—this was the punching style of the "Sudden Wind" of the Long Wind Fist.
With a sudden gust of wind, he channeled his qi and blood to his fist, aiming for a fatal blow.
But he deliberately changed the angle of his punch, turning a straight attack into a diagonal upward thrust, the fist grazing the dog's ribs and sliding up to strike his armpit.
Dog Head froze, as if he had been electrocuted. He shrank back, clutching his arm, his face contorted beneath the mask.
This punch carried a penetrating force like a drill, but it looked like just an ordinary hook punch.
The onlookers didn't see anything amiss and simply assumed it was just a case of the dog being careless.
"Hit him! Hit him!" the onlookers shouted again, but this time they weren't shouting "Kill him!" but rather urging Dog Head to fight back.
Dog Head gritted its teeth and pounced again. Lin Mu's vital energy had almost dissipated by that punch, and the itching from the Body Tempering Technique had only subsided by 70%, with 30% still stubbornly clinging to the gaps in his bones.
He gritted his teeth and took three punches from the dog's head. When the fourth punch came, he used a variation of the "Sudden Wind" style and punched the dog's head in the shoulder.
One punch, two punches, three punches...
Lin Mu used this method to wear down the dog's stamina.
But it also depletes his vital energy.
Just as the itch subsided and his energy was about to be depleted, he used all his strength to strike his opponent's abdomen.
The dog-headed creature bent down, its mask hitting Lin Mu's shoulder, but it didn't fall over.
He staggered back to the iron pillar, leaned against it, panting heavily, his left hand clutching his stomach, his right hand hanging limply at his side as if it were dislocated.
"Stop...stop hitting me..." Dog Head knelt on the ground, waving his hands frantically. "I give up."
Lin Mu stood in the center of the cage, his fist still raised, but his energy was depleted, and he even had difficulty standing up straight.
He looked at the dog's head, remained silent for a moment, and finally lowered his fist, dragging his tired body toward the cage door.
The instant he turned around, Dog Head suddenly pulled a short blade from his pocket with his left hand, and with a flash of cold light, stabbed it towards Lin Mu's lower back.
Lin Mu heard the sound of wind behind him.
It wasn't the sound of a punch, but the sound of metal cutting through the air.
He didn't have time to turn around or dodge; he could only use his last bit of instinct to push his body forward while simultaneously kicking his right leg backward.
The short blade grazed his lower back, tearing through his clothes and a layer of flesh, and warm blood immediately seeped out.
Using the momentum of his forward thrust, Lin Mu suddenly turned around.
The dog's head was already pouncing in front of him, and the short blade stabbed again, this time aimed at his chest.
Lin Mu did not back down.
He channeled the last bit of strength in his body into his right fist. This punch had no moves, no routines, but was simply the ultimate refinement of the "Drilling Wind Style"—the fist struck the dog's Adam's apple just before the short blade pierced his chest.
The dog's eyes bulged out suddenly, and the short blade stopped in mid-air, only two inches away from Lin Mu's chest.
He made a "clucking" sound in his throat, like a chicken being choked.
Then he leaned back, and the short blade slipped from his hand, falling onto the wooden board with a crisp sound.
The dog's head lay on the ground, its limbs twitched twice, and then it stopped moving.
Lin Mu stood in front of him, his fist still raised, but he had no strength left in his body.
He looked at the lifeless eyes beneath the dog-head mask and slowly withdrew his fist.
His legs buckled, and he knelt down, then lay face down on the wooden board.
His face was pressed against the cold wooden board, and blood seeped from the wound on his lower back, soaking his clothes.
He pressed his ear to the ground and heard the noise of the onlookers, the cursing, and the one-eyed old man's loudspeaker, all of which seemed to be coming from a very far place.
The onlookers were in an uproar.
"Damn it, is Doghead dead?"
"This newbie is ruthless!"
"It's a lose-lose situation; both of them are down."
The one-eyed old man squeezed to the edge of the cage, poked the dog's head with his megaphone, and then poked Lin Mu's back.
Lin Mu lay motionless, but was still breathing.
The one-eyed old man frowned, then raised his megaphone: "Dog Head is dead! Eagle Head is alive! Eagle Head wins!"
Several burly men crawled into the cage, dragged the dog's head out, leaving a long trail of blood on the wooden board.
Someone kicked Lin Mu, muttered "Still alive," and left him in the cage, letting him lie there.
The flame of the oil lamp flickered before his eyes, casting the shadows of the iron pillars on the ground, one by one, like the bars of a cage.
He stared at the shadows, counting his breaths, trying again and again to circulate his qi and blood, but his qi and blood were like a dried-up riverbed, without a single drop of water.
A quarter of an hour passed.
Only then could he support himself on the wooden plank and hold onto the iron pillar to slowly stand up.
By this time, most of the onlookers had left.
To demonstrate the gambling den's credibility, the one-eyed old man handed Lin Mu the winnings and the stakes he had placed—a total of more than eight taels of silver—in front of everyone.
Lin Mu took the silver and rested in the cage for a full quarter of an hour until his energy and blood were replenished before turning to leave.
As I walked out of Chang Le Casino, I heard footsteps behind me.
The sound of shoes stepping on the bluestone slabs varied, some heavy, some light, some far, some near.
The heavier pair looked like straw sandals, made no attempt to conceal them;
The lighter pair resembled thin-soled cloth shoes; from a distance, their sound was almost inaudible, but occasionally, when they stepped on broken tiles, they made a faint cracking sound.
Like a civet cat leaping across the rooftop in the night.
Lin Mu did not turn around and continued walking forward, his steps neither hurried nor slow, maintaining the same unsteady state as before.
He staggered around the alleyway and quickened his pace toward Zuichunlou.
The footsteps behind them quickened.
Instead of entering through the main entrance, he hugged the wall and circled around to the back alley of Zuichunlou.
Several garbage cans were piled up in the back alley, emitting a foul stench. A small door was ajar in the wall, leading to the kitchen. Lin Mu slipped inside. Several cooks were busy at work, and no one paid him any attention.
He walked through the kitchen, lifted a curtain, and entered the front hall.
Then, after mingling in the smells of alcohol, sweat, and cosmetics, they leave through the front door with an air of nonchalance.
The two figures behind them also followed in.
He caught a glimpse of a man dressed in a gray cloth short coat, standing at the door looking around; his clothes still bore the logo of the Chang Le Casino.
Another thin man in a blue robe, whose origins were unknown, walked in close to the wall.
After leaving the Drunken Spring Pavilion, Lin Mu quickly turned into a narrower alley and used his remaining energy to activate the Floating Wind Step, weaving through the shadows.
He walked around several streets to make sure no one was following him before heading towards Willow Leaf Village.
Back at the old house, after closing the courtyard gate, Lin Mu leaned against the door panel, his knees buckled, and he slid down to sit on the muddy ground behind the threshold.
He tilted his head back, panting heavily, his calves still trembling.
After a long while, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of silver—it was heavy.