People often talk about "rage as fire"—anger burning hot in the heart. The angrier you get, the more it flares up, and you end up like a lit stick of dynamite. But for some reason, when Jack Young gets mad, it's not fiery rage—it's icy rage. On a normal day, he’s all jokes, snark, and mischief, but when he truly loses his temper, his whole vibe drops to subzero, chilling everyone around him to the bone.
In this tiny patch of woods, Jack Young and the killer clashed in an instant. No words, no expression—just a pair of eyes cold as death, sending one message loud and clear: I'm gonna end you!
Their fight was both fierce and bizarre, like an assassin showdown from a ninja flick—no wild shouts, no dramatic roars, just flashes of steel and shadows slipping through the silence. The black-clad killer moved wicked fast, weaving through the trees, attacking Jack Young from every angle. Jack barely shifted his feet, didn’t even bother with his trusty stick—he went bare-handed.
Shadows darted around Jack, each pass unleashing a sharp clang—the sound of iron palms clashing against the Jade Sword.
The Blade Attendant didn’t jump in right away. His blade hides in the shadows, not the spotlight. He stepped back, and in just one move, his whole presence faded, blending into the background like a drop of water in the ocean—impossible to pick out. Usually, he pairs up with the Red-Clad Sword Attendant, one obvious, one hidden, perfectly protecting Yan Taixu. But now the Sword Attendant stayed with Yan Taixu, so Jack Young had to take the heat up front.
His real value? Catching that one opening—and landing the kill shot!
Clang, clang, clang—palms and sword clashed like rain beating on banana leaves, rapid and relentless. The killer moved like a looping black line, and from above, you’d think he was sketching wild polygons on the ground. Jack Young’s senses were dialed up to eleven—feet planted, hands flying, every palm landing square on the sword, mixing offense and defense in one fierce blur.
Even in the thick of battle, Jack Young’s mind stayed sharp. He focused his mental strength, starting to break down the killer’s fighting patterns.
But the more he analyzed, the more cautious he became.
The killer’s sword technique was dead simple—so basic it had no signature moves. Thrust, stab, slice, chop: just the usual stuff, delivered plain and straightforward, nothing special at all. His footwork was just as ordinary, the same dodges and spins you’d see from any street fighter, nothing to write home about.
But the real killer move was speed. Jack Young might be able to keep up in terms of raw velocity, but when it came to those crazy sharp turns—like a fish darting through water, flipping directions on a dime—he was totally outclassed.
And the weirdest part? The Black-clad Assassin swung his sword without releasing any sword qi. All his internal strength was hidden deep in his own meridians, boosting his arm power for head-on clashes with Jack Young, but he refused to unleash that unstoppable innate sword qi.
Jack Young didn’t believe the guy couldn’t see his own level of internal cultivation—innate crushing acquired, high speed crushing low speed, sword qi and internal strength were the best tools for the job. But this guy just wouldn’t use them.
This analysis was useless for predicting his next move. But Jack Young realized one thing: this guy really cared about keeping his identity secret. For some reason, he’d assassinated Ouyezi, but didn’t want anyone to know who did it—so he fought like this. Which means he’s probably super famous, maybe someone who could get by anywhere just by showing his face.
If that’s the case, I’ve gotta find a way to use this to my advantage—maybe there’s a way to flip the script.
First step: slow this guy down, force him to show what he’s really made of!
Iron Palm Blade—slash! With a loud crack, Jack Young chopped with his palm and toppled a huge tree. He slammed his shoulder into it, sending the trunk flying and crashing into even more trees. One after another, giant trees fell with a chorus of cracks, branches and leaves sweeping down like a bunch of giant brooms from the sky, raining chaos everywhere. The whole place became a tangled mess in an instant. Jack Young’s eyes were wide open, tracking every move the enemy made.
In that split second, Jack Young noticed the assassin hesitated for a moment when faced with the falling trees—whatever he was afraid of, it was a chance!
Bang! Jack Young sprang into action, launching a direct attack on the Black-clad Assassin.
Eight Directions City Dock.
From the knights rushing around delivering lockdown orders until now, barely half an hour had passed. Martial arts masters gathered, chased the culprit, and battled all the way out the south gate—plenty of twists and turns. But for the average dock worker? Just a few trips hauling cargo and a sip of water. The docks were still bustling, ships coming and going. The commotion in Eight Directions City had only just reached this area; most workers were whispering, clueless, and even the dock manager was still debating whether to ban departures.
But right then—crack, crack, crack—a bunch of huge trees crashed to the ground. Flocks of birds burst skyward, shrieking non-stop. The workers stared in shock, unsure what was happening. Then, from the woods, something like a rampaging monster tore through, thunderous crashes echoing, trees falling one after another. And it was headed straight for the dock!
"What’s going on? What happened? Is there a monster?!" The dock workers were baffled, but someone on a passing boat had sharp eyes. A shout rang out: "Get out of the way! Move it, now!"
In the next instant, a black shadow shot out from the woods, flying straight toward them. At the same time, a whole tree soared through the air, sweeping down like a giant broom chasing dragonflies.
"Run for it!" When immortals fight, mortals suffer. In this world, everyone knows the drill—if things look sketchy, you bolt. The dock and plaza cleared out in a blink, people scrambling and tumbling over each other. Meanwhile, a noisy crowd was surging in from the city gate, heading their way.
[Serialization note: Chapter not finished yet—click next page for more action!]
That flying tree blocked the assassin for a split second, and as he tried to leap overhead, Jack Young sprang up with a thud—like a shark bursting from the water to snatch a seabird—charging straight at the airborne Black-clad Assassin.
Clang, clang, clang—sparks flew everywhere. Jack Young’s bare palms against the Black-clad Assassin’s Jade Sword, battling fiercely in midair. They crashed down to the ground, neither gaining the upper hand. The Jade Sword didn’t pierce Jack Young’s throat, and Jack’s fists didn’t land a decisive blow.
The Black-clad Assassin landed on his toes and retreated in a flash. The river was close—two leaps and he’d be in the water, escaping for good. He’d already achieved his goals; killing Jack Young wasn’t necessary. Grabbing the Jade Sword and cracking its secrets was the real priority.
With a kick, he shot backward. With his lightness skill, if he wanted to leave, no one here could stop him.
But right then, as Jack Young landed, his brow furrowed—surprise, shock, and disbelief flickered across his face. For the first time since the fight started, he spoke, his voice cold: "Didn’t expect it’d be you!"
The Black-clad Assassin, mid-retreat, froze at Jack Young’s words. For the first time, he spoke too—his voice cold, raspy, and clearly disguised: "Hmph. Bluffing, are we?"
He seemed pretty confident in his ability to hide his identity, not believing Jack Young could really see through him. But he wasn’t totally unmoved—if he was, he wouldn’t have stopped or spoken at all.
Truth was, Jack Young really was bluffing. How many people did he actually know? The Black-clad Assassin’s moves were so generic—even if there’d been a clue, Jack wouldn’t have recognized it. But Jack didn’t argue, because only a real bluffer would deny bluffing. Stopping a life-or-death fight to talk trash felt off, so he did something more fitting—
"Go ahead and run. I can’t catch you, but you can’t hide forever. Today you killed my friend; tomorrow I’ll wipe out your whole clan. I’m heading north tomorrow, and as long as I’m alive, your family’s doomed!" The roar was full of venom, his eyes blazing with murderous intent, as if his glare could pierce the mask and pin the killer’s face to the wall.
Hearing this, the Black-clad Assassin’s whole aura changed.
It was like he’d just been playing around before, running a side quest he didn’t care about. But now, Jack Young could feel the sudden surge of killing intent. In that moment, he knew he’d made the assassin’s hit list—which was exactly what he wanted! One little bluff at the right time, and it paid off big.
"Hah!" Jack Young stomped the ground, launching himself at the Black-clad Assassin with a roar. All his fury and killer instinct poured into this punch—success or die trying. But the assassin didn’t move. He just stood there, sword tip drooping, killing intent thickening, focusing everything on the next strike.
But as Jack Young’s punch thundered forward, the Blade Attendant drifted in. This guy, who’d blended into the scenery and hadn’t made a single move until now, finally found his moment.
He gripped his blade, crouched low, and from twenty feet away unleashed his ultimate move: "Hidden Blade—Flash!"