Chapter 150: Face to Face
Chapter 150: Face to Face
Fang Jing stood in front of the blue car. The moment he opened his mouth, he radiated arrogance, aggression, and dominance.
Just by standing there, he gave off an intense, overwhelming presence.
Moreover, the people in the car were seasoned fighters themselves. The thick killing intent, the strong scent of blood, and the ferocious, wild energy within Fang Jing were things Kuki and Haijima had rarely, if ever, seen before.
“Who are you—?”
Kuki’s disciple Haijima was first to open the car door and step out. Seeing Haijima’s corpse crushed into a pulp, his eyes turned bloodshot, veins bulged in rage, and a vicious aura emanated from him.
Only their League of Nether Ghosts killed. No one dared lay a finger on them.
“I, am Kuki Muen.”
Kuki got out of the car, cracking his neck. He fixed his sharp eyes on the young man before him, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if trying to see through him.
“Who are you?”
“How is Kume Nansho? He is my teacher.”
Seeing the blue car stop and three strangers inside, Fang Jing knew things had gone wrong.
These three perfectly matched Haijima’s description under torture: likely Kuki Muen and his two disciples, Haijima and Shishidōmaru.
Since Kuki Muen was unharmed, Kume Nansho’s situation was naturally… “precarious.”
“He is dead. Or nearly so. After all, he forcibly opened the third ‘Gate.’ The chance of survival is almost non-existent…”
Kuki Muen paused, speaking slowly. “I just didn’t know… he had a disciple like you. Defeating Haijima is impressive.”
“…But unfortunately, the Huanzang Style doesn’t tolerate weakness. Only the strong can wield this fighting art. Since you’re that man’s disciple, you too must be weak.”
“And in my eyes, weakness is the ultimate sin. The weak deserve to die.”
Kuki Muen’s tone was cruel and cold, as if he wasn’t human but a being high above, judging by the law of the jungle.
This naturally angered Fang Jing, who frowned and countered: “The weak deserve to die? A ridiculous notion. Strength isn’t solely about power. Nature dictates survival is evolution’s primary goal. How else could insects live from ancient times to now…”
“You can’t deny the food chain exists. In it – the strong eat the weak to live, while the weak are devoured. Martial arts are the same. Beating strong with weak? Soft overcoming hard? Small defeating big? It’s all nonsense…”
Kuki was clearly obsessed with his own belief.
“There’s only one core truth to martial arts: transforming yourself into the strongest. To crush the weak with power. To beat inferior skill with superior skill. Martial arts exist to become stronger. Only the style proving strongest in combat represents true power. Only the strong decide everything.”
Since he had inherited the Huanzang Style, it had to be the strongest martial art.
This art needed no weaklings and tolerated no flaws.
It was his personal philosophy of strength.
“Nonsense…”
Fang Jing thought communicating with this man pointless. He inhaled deeply and spoke word by word: “Fine. If ‘strength’ is your measure – if you believe strength decides everything – I’ll now judge your own qualifications.”
“Shut your mouth!”
Haijima’s face twisted with rage, his eyes wholly bloodshot, ready to explode at any moment.
“Who do you think you are? How dare you say that—!”
“Because I am stronger. At least, my Huanzang Style, learned from Kume Nansho, surpasses yours.”
Fang Jing let out a laugh. “So I am strong. That makes me the truth.”
A cold killing intent flashed in Kuki’s eyes. He said nothing – perhaps disdaining further words – yet black flames seemed to burn within his gaze.
“Teacher, don’t waste words on him.”
Shishidōmaru cackled maliciously, his eyes full of mockery.
To him, this brat claiming to be Kume Nansho’s disciple had come here just to die.
“Let me handle this boy, Lord Shishidōmaru! He killed Haijima, so I’ll flay and tendon him, make him die ten times over!”
Fang Jing sneered, his voice icy. “So you’re Shishidōmaru. Pity. Ten deaths won’t be enough. Counting every piece of trash in your League of Nether Ghosts in this city, you might have me dead three or four hundred times. After all, I personally slaughtered every last one of your group here.”
He bared his teeth, radiating a chilling aura.
“Oh right. Wasn’t there a woman under Shiota of the Takaha Group? A guard you sent? Think I punched her dead too.”
Aaaaaah—!
Shishidōmaru roared like a wild beast towards the sky, his heart stabbed with agony.
“I’ll tear you apart!”
The next second, Shishidōmaru arched his back, then exploded forward, skimming the ground. Before Haijima could stop him, he charged out like a tornado.
“Teacher!”
Haijima turned to see Kuki Muen’s expression unmoved, standing rooted without a twitch.
“Let him…”
Kuki only gave those words.
In seconds, Shishidōmaru closed in. He thrust a hand clawing down at Fang Jing’s face, five fingers sharp as knives.
This wiry, long-haired man looked frail, but his body was unnatural, possessed of brute strength and razor claws. It was said he once ripped out a man’s heart bare-handed.
He fought like a mad beast—uncontrollable without Kuki’s intervention.
Even others in the League feared him.
His brutal, ferocious nature, delighting in torturing enemies, made him one of their fiercest fighters.
Fang Jing’s eye twitched. Shishidōmaru surged like a gale, feet kicking while sharp claws aimed for his face. One solid hit would tear half his face off.
Whoosh!
A brutal wind charged forward. Fang Jing didn’t dodge—there was no need. He met it head-on with sheer force.
He lunged, twisted his waist, and swung an arm. It looked simple, but in that instant, terrifying power unleashed.
Crack!
Shishidōmaru felt his right cheek slammed by a bear, losing balance mid-air and flying sideways.
He twisted in flight, landing like a beast on all fours.
“I will end you!”
Half Shishidōmaru’s face was shattered, but he seemed unfazed. Pushing off with immense speed, he rushed like thunder.
Fwip!
He attacked again, launching a flying kick mid-air.
It was no ordinary strike. Drawing breath from deep within his throat, he gathered energy impossibly without ground leverage.
Martial arts force usually demanded earth contact for stability. Yet Shishidōmaru defied physiology.
Expelling air mid-leap, he channeled the Dark Dragon Force into his leg. Hidden Force burst out in a violent puff of force directly in the air.
Die!
This killer move, called “Demon Dragon Force,” was his ultimate technique from the Huanzang Style. No top fighter would expect an aerial use.
The impact alone could kill through unleashed Hidden Force, not to mention its raw power.
Mid-flight, his thin lips stretched into a grin, face twisting reptilian-like.
But it didn’t happen.
Fang Jing instantly opened the “Inner Ghost Gate.” He had no time to play. Kume Nansho was dead—he’d kill Kuki in revenge.
“Move!”
Instantly, his muscles and bones exploded with power. Air around him ignited; the asphalt beneath cracked into webs.
Bang!
His fist shot out, meeting Shishidōmaru’s leg first—pulverizing it on impact. Then his foot lashed out with a thud, kicking Shishidōmaru like a ball, flinging him over ten meters away. Shishidōmaru rolled on ground, chest fully caved in, lying bloody and motionless.
“Don’t block my path.”
After kicking away Shishidōmaru, Fang Jing locked onto Kuki. His chest flared hotter with fury.
“Kuki Muen. Do you truly believe you’re strong?”
He removed his shirt, crumpled it, and tossed it aside.
“Now I’ll judge whether your ‘strength’ meets my minimum standard—”
“Silence!”
Kuki’s top disciple, Haijima, lost all restraint. Rushing forward with a roar, he raised his prosthetic arm. The palm revealed a hollow while mechanisms inside clicked. Shoomph! Crimson fire erupted from it.
A scorching, arid heat—like seared air—engulfed the space.
In a flash, savage flames surged out, jetting four to five meters long.
This was Haijima’s ace. He wasn’t fool enough to confront Fang Jing directly after witnessing Shishidōmaru’s defeat; he’d be helpless. So, he led with his strongest move.
Haijima’s modified prosthetic contained machinery firing special, gunpowder-loaded rounds from the Huanzang Style. Combined with flame devices and oil reserves, they detonated into toxic blasts.
Most opponents would perish instantly. Luckily, Fang Jing knew the trick. Prepared, his reactions were lightning fast.
He shrank instantly into a ball-like stance, seeming to implode in size as flames licked the air where he stood.
Spinning immediately, he avoided the fiery torrent.
Shink!
A captured octagonal shuriken flashed out from his hand during the spin, precisely slicing off half of Haijima’s face.
A weapon left by the dead Haijima proved useful yet again.
“Now. It’s time to begin.”
He advanced towards Kuki Muen, sneering at the tall man.
Under ten meters remained between them—the distance for close-quarters bloodshed.
Their gazes collided, sharp sparks flying across the void; their killing intent thickened cold enough to freeze the air.