21 Pain (1/2)
Chapter 21: Pain
Translator: Nyoi_Bo_StudioEditor: Nyoi_Bo_Studio
Currently, the overwhelming zhenqi inside Fan Xian had reacted automatically, forming a dense layer which blanketed his back. However, the wooden stick was even faster and ”stabbed” him before the zhenqi could react.
The term ”stab” meant that the stick was thrust in a straight line by its owner, with all the power focused into the tip.
Fan Xian let out a cry. Although the youth’s body was protected by zhenqi, the blow he just received sent pain down to the bone, causing his body to curl up. One moment he was writhing on the ground in pain, the next he pushed off against the ground with his hands and started to roll while assuming the same curled up position. Fan Xian ferociously kicked behind him.
Seeing a beautiful young boy performing such an insidious kick was enough to shock anybody, though what answered his kick was a simple slapping sound.
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Fan Xian half-knelt on the ground, continuously massaging his ankle. He inhaled the cold air as his face twisted from the pain.
He knew begging for mercy would be useless, as proven early on these past few years. All he could do was eye the blind man standing three meters away and calculating his next move. As agreed, if he could land a single blow on the blind man, even a corner of his clothing, it would be considered a victory for Fan Xian, with the reward being a month-long break.
Having suffered several years of being beaten, Fan Xian had yet to accomplish that, due in part to Wu Zhu being alarmingly swift and not giving away his position. Even more terrifyingly, Wu Zhu made no extra movements that would give away what he planned to do next, making him unpredictable to Fan Xian. As an example, with Wu Zhu, indicators such as line of sight cannot be taken advantage of.
Secondly, that inconspicuous wooden stick—every time Fan Xian tried to get near Wu Zhu using zhenqi or underhanded tricks, that stick would move like the claw of a demon from hell, mercilessly slamming into Fan Xian’s wrists, ankles, or even his fingers.
They weren’t broken, but they hurt. The pain was unbearable.
What absolutely baffled Fan Xian was that, no matter how hard he tried to muffle the sound of his movements, Wu Zhu, through his blindfold, could still locate and hit him every time without fail despite the roaring of the waves crashing into the rocks below.
”Ay-ya-ya-ya…” taking another hit to the wrist, Fan Xian cried out, his voice dragging like he was singing Beijing opera. He distanced himself away from that merciless blind man.
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A small, nameless yellow flower bloomed meekly on the cliffs.
Fan Xian lay on the edge of the cliff, his strength gone. The sea below had already calmed down, glistening gold from sunshine. The reefs that were constantly bashed by the waves finally gained a moment of peace and began to slowly dry. Some crustaceans climbed over them, looking like tiny black dots when viewed from above.
Touching the painful spots on his body, Fan Xian navigated his qi to inspect his interior condition. He discovered that his rampaging zhenqi had been partially absorbed into the xueshan behind his waist, while the rest of it was used up trying to defend against those relentless stick strikes. The zhenqi inside him right now was calm … just like the sea before him.
Fan Xian knew resting now would do his training no good, and so, in spite of the soreness and pain, he got up with great difficulty and assumed a lotus position as he began to carry out the maneuvers from the Scrolls of Power. He shot a glance at Wu Zhu, who was standing at the cliff’s edge.
The black strip of cloth which covered Wu Zhu’s eyes flapped in the sea wind.