Chapter Forty-Eight: Within Ten Paces, Killing You Is as Easy as Killing Chickens or Dogs (Third Update)

“Who are you?”
Zheng Tianming tensed his entire body. He was already a master of external cultivation; his skin was as hard as iron, his muscles slightly swelling, presenting a strikingly exaggerated figure. Standing nearly two meters tall, he resembled a human mountain.

He was poised to strike, as if the slightest move from the delicate young man before him would bring thunderous force crashing down.

As a grandmaster of internal power, Zheng Tianming’s senses had evolved to a higher level. He could hear the faint sound of wind whipping up grains of sand, the minute collisions in the air, and even spot a spider hunting over a dozen meters away. He could see the fine hairs on its body and its sharp fangs.

Yet with such transcendent senses, he had not noticed when the young man appeared.

“Who are you?”
Zheng Tianming’s expression shifted subtly.

Damn it!

Keen intuition was essential for any top-tier assassin. Had the youth not spoken first, none present would have realized there was someone else nearby.

Jiang Yu stood with his hands behind his back, proud and unyielding, his clothes snapping in the night wind.

The swirling sands seemed to avoid Jiang Yu, parting to flow past on either side. It was as if an invisible barrier surrounded him, shielding him from all things.

Jiang Yu smiled faintly. “Weren’t you looking for me? Now that I’m here, you ask who I am? Disordered thoughts are a fatal flaw for an assassin.”

Facing a grandmaster of internal power and three masters whose power surged to its peak, Jiang Yu remained calm and unhurried.

Xiahou Sheng, relieved, whispered, “Master Jiang, you’ve come.”

Jiang Yu nodded in acknowledgment.

Seeing Xiahou Sheng battered and bloodied, a cold light flashed in Jiang Yu’s eyes. He had promised to protect Xiahou Sheng, and now the latter had been hunted to the brink of death tonight. That chill was both guilt for his unfulfilled promise and anger.

Zheng Tianming, facing his greatest threat, joined his palms; suddenly, his skin changed color. “You must be the secular grandmaster who killed the three Tiger Fiends. Since the Shadow Kill was founded in the Republic era, our hundred-year history has been one of brilliant success. Never have we suffered such humiliation. Tonight, I, Zheng Tianming, shall use the blood of a grandmaster to restore the honor of the Shadow Kill.”

Sands and stones whirled; Zheng Tianming’s eyes blazed like a Vajra come to life, his skin glowing gold like the legendary Eighteen Bronze Men of Shaolin.

Elder Shen cried out, “The secret art of the Ancient Vajra Temple?”

Zheng Tianming sneered, “So you’re knowledgeable—a worthy secular grandmaster.”

He turned to Jiang Yu. “Is such a minor art worthy of your notice?”

Jiang Yu shook his head. “A clay chicken and a dog—no match at all. Without true mastery, within ten paces I kill you as easily as slaughtering livestock!”

Elder Shen could only offer a bitter smile. In all the world, perhaps only Master Jiang would dare such words to a grandmaster.

Insolent!

A grandmaster’s dignity could not be so easily mocked.

Zheng Tianming’s Vajra glare was godlike. His body seemed to grow taller, approaching three meters, his skin taking on a metallic luster. To have honed the secret art of the Ancient Vajra Temple to such an extent was indeed a feat.

He took a step forward, and the earth itself seemed to tremble.

“Tonight, in the name of a grandmaster, I grant you death!”

Zheng Tianming chanted; within ten paces, it would be either his death or Jiang Yu’s.

Jiang Yu found it amusing. Lightly, he extended a palm, striking Zheng Tianming on the chest.

Boom!

Like a monk striking a great bell, the resonance lingered. That night, the nearby residents all heard a sound like a mighty temple bell.

“The world knows the Immortal Master of Bright Cavern for his unmatched magical arts, but few realize his true expertise lies in the Indestructible True Demon Body. Why don’t you try mine and see how it fares?”

Jiang Yu threw back his head and laughed, his aura so commanding that all present felt as if an immortal had descended.

Few martial artists in the world could withstand a single flick from Jiang Yu, let alone match his physical strength. Tonight, he had finally encountered Zheng Tianming, a grandmaster of external cultivation, whose body could withstand even artillery fire.

With every step Jiang Yu took, his body grew taller. Behind him, a vague demon image formed, hands gesturing in arcane signs, its eyes positioned vertically—one above, one below. The upper eye gazed at the heavens, the lower upon the earth.

Beyond seven paces, Jiang Yu’s hair fluttered as if on a windless peak, his presence radiant.

What secret art is this?

Zheng Tianming could scarcely believe his eyes, staring as if he’d seen a ghost.

Behind Jiang Yu, the True Demon’s image looked down upon all creatures with contempt.

When Jiang Yu blinked, so did the demon. When Jiang Yu spoke, the demon’s mouth moved in unison.

The Primordial Immortal Sect was the world’s foremost sect of cultivation, with disciples scattered across the globe and three palaces and six halls under its command. Its sect leader, self-styled as the Black Tortoise General, cultivated the Indestructible True Demon Body; upon reaching mastery, his head touched the sky and his feet trod the earth. Even after ten thousand years of death and the dissolution of his path, his body would remain lifelike for millions of years.

Immortal arts! True immortal arts!

Elder Shen fell to his knees—not before Jiang Yu, but to that overwhelming divine and demonic aura.

The Indestructible True Demon Body was as renowned in the primordial era as the Daoist Five Emperors’ Physiques.

Apart from Zheng Tianming, Arno and the remaining two Shadow Kill agents were all seized by terror, their hearts quailing and intent on fleeing.

Was this still a grandmaster?

Jiang Yu extended a slender arm, and the demon behind him did the same. In the eyes of all present, that demonic hand blotted out the sky, as if the world itself was in its grasp.

Yet it was but an illusion, akin to a single leaf blocking the eye. What one sees is not necessarily the truth.

Ah!

Zheng Tianming raised both hands to block the descending palm.

Thunder crashed. Sand and dust filled the air, blinding everyone. It felt as if a shell had exploded nearby, the shockwave sending bodies flying. Ordinary man Xiahou Sheng screamed in agony—it was as if he were sitting in a bullet train at top speed, sticking his head out the window.

In the swirling dust, no one knew what was happening within.

One second… two… three…

Several minutes later, as the dust settled, Zheng Tianming’s arms were shattered to pieces, his lower body sunk deep into the sand, only his chest and head exposed. Blood stained the sand, and his golden-bronze body—transformed by the Ancient Vajra Temple’s secret art—was now covered in cracks like a shattered glass jar.

Defeated?

Arno’s eyes nearly popped from his skull.

Zheng Tianming, the chief of operations for the Shadow Kill in China, a grandmaster in his own right, had been smashed into the sand by a single palm from the youth?

“Beneath true mastery, all are ants!”

Jiang Yu’s gaze was icy and indifferent, looking upon mortals as a god upon insects. “Weren’t you so lofty just a moment ago?”

With that, he strode to Zheng Tianming, raised his foot, and the demon behind him did the same.

Zheng Tianming’s pupils contracted. “No—!”

Crash!

Dust and sand exploded again. In Zheng Tianming’s place, there now appeared a footprint the size of a car, pressed several inches deep.

With that stomp, all life within a hundred meters, hidden beneath the sand, was obliterated.

Zheng Tianming was ground into the earth, his vitality utterly extinguished. Any ordinary grandmaster would have been reduced to pulp by that blow.

A palm strike, a single stomp—he had killed a grandmaster?

Arno seemed to realize the truth, shrieking, “You’re a master of unified force?”

“Damn it! The intelligence was wrong!”

At this thought, Arno cared nothing for revenge or dignity—he turned and fled.

Jiang Yu laughed. “Trying to run?”

With Zheng Tianming stomped to death, how could Arno dare linger? But as he fled a dozen meters, his body seemed cursed, freezing in place. Seconds later, his terrified eyes widened as flames burst from his limbs, skin, torso, and even his bones. The agony pierced his soul, wringing out pitiful screams.

In a flash, Arno was engulfed in fire, his shrieks chilling everyone present. In the flames, a distorted figure could be seen struggling, as if even his soul was burning away.

Zheng Tianming, with his secret art, had managed to take a palm from Jiang Yu. Arno, whose strength barely reached half-step grandmaster, had no chance at all—he was burned to nothing.

“Spare us, master!”

The other two Shadow Kill agents, already terrified to the core, dropped to their knees and kowtowed desperately.

Jiang Yu said coldly, “If the opportunity arises, I’ll pay a visit to your Shadow Kill headquarters.”

Though both agents were peak masters of condensing force, they trembled as if struck by lightning.

In truth, faulty intelligence had doomed them all. Had they known Jiang Yu was a unified force grandmaster, they might have tried other methods—like using high-caliber sniper rifles with special armor-piercing rounds. Not even a Humvee could withstand those, let alone a master’s flesh and blood.

Secular grandmasters were revered as gods, but true immortality was still a distant dream.

Jiang Yu flicked his finger, a streak of light shooting out to kill them both.

His form then returned to normal, the demon’s image vanishing. This body-forging art had once been seized by Jiang Yu from a holy son of the Primordial Immortal Sect.

A grandmaster of internal power and three peak masters—slain in a single encounter.

Jiang Yu stood tall, his garments spotless and pristine.

Elder Shen and Xiahou Yuan approached him, bowing in respect. “Thank you, Master Jiang, for your intervention.”

Jiang Yu replied, “No need to thank me. This was what I promised you.”

Xiahou Sheng sneered. After tonight, together with the three Tiger Fiends, Shadow Kill had lost six peak masters and a grandmaster. Such losses would wound the organization’s very foundation—a century of accumulation, decimated in a single night. Shadow Kill would surely fly into a rage.

Without true mastery, within ten paces I kill you as easily as livestock!

Watching Jiang Yu’s departing figure, Elder Shen bowed even lower.