He wanted to beg for mercy, to sway Yang Jing with money and valuables.
But before he could finish, Yang Jing's fist was upon him again. Yang Jing said nothing; his punches only grew fiercer and more vicious!
Yang Jing knew Xu Tai was at the Peak of Mingjin. Even if his strength was down to a mere twenty or thirty percent, he couldn't afford to be careless.
Xu Tai's expression turned grim. He violently curled his legs and kicked out at Yang Jing's lower abdomen, trying to force him back.
Yang Jing neither dodged nor evaded. His left hand clamped onto the ankle like an iron vise while his right hand balled into a fist.
With a THUD, his fist smashed into the side of Xu Tai's knee.
With a soft CRACK, Xu Tai screamed in agony, his knee now twisted at an unnatural angle.
At that moment, he knew he was finished, but he still refused to give up. He grabbed Yang Jing's wrist with his other hand, trying to use the leverage to turn himself over.
Yang Jing's eyes turned cold. He redirected his fist, letting it slide down Xu Tai's arm before landing heavily on the old wound on his chest!
"PUH—"
Xu Tai violently spat out a mouthful of blood, soaking his bandages completely red. His entire body went limp, slumping under the bed like a pile of sludge.
He watched as Yang Jing closed in, step by step, an uncontrollable fear filling his eyes. "You... you can't kill me... I know people from your Martial Arts Hall..."
Yang Jing remained silent, merely gathering Mingjin in his fist.
He recalled what his master Sun Yong and Fourth Senior Brother Liu Maolin had said about 'force permeating the flesh.' Every punch now landed precisely on Xu Tai's injuries—his shoulder socket, under his ribs, his lower abdomen...
The punches carried the ferocity to shatter mountains and split stone, yet they were perfectly controlled. He didn't allow his opponent to die instantly, instead letting the agony build, layer by layer.
Xu Tai's resistance grew steadily weaker. At first, he swung his fists to parry; then he could only use his arms to shield his head. Finally, he lacked even the strength to lift a hand, leaving him with nothing but a ragged, wheezing breath.
The oil lamp's flame flickered violently from the wind of the punches, casting their shadows upon the wall. One stood tall as a pine tree; the other cowered like a dog.
For the final punch, Yang Jing gathered all the Mingjin in his body and slammed it viciously into Xu Tai's chest.
With a dull THUMP, Xu Tai's body jerked like a heavy sack being struck, then fell completely still. His eyes were wide open, a final trace of shock and indignation frozen within them.
Yang Jing stood his ground, panting.
From the moment he'd kicked in the door to the moment he killed Xu Tai, everything had happened in a flash—the span of just a few short breaths.
No matter how eloquently Xu Tai pleaded or what methods he used to sway him, Yang Jing remained unmoved.
From start to finish, he hadn't spoken a single word, not until Xu Tai was dead.
Although Xu Tai was already severely injured, he was still an experienced Mingjin expert. Yang Jing hadn't dared to be the slightest bit careless during the fight, giving it his all, determined not to stop until Xu Tai was dead.
The desperate struggle had lasted only a few breaths, but it was enough to cause a thin sheen of sweat to break out on Yang Jing's body.
However, this wasn't his first kill. Including Feng Lei and Scarface Li, Xu Tai was the third person to die by his hand.
With each person he killed, Yang Jing's mindset slowly shifted. The initial discomfort was gone.
Besides, people like Xu Tai and Scarface Li deserved to die—even more so than Feng Lei.
After all, the Great Fortune Gang's business had always been utterly depraved. Loan-sharking was one of their tamer ventures. Their other enterprises, like kidnapping and mutilating people to force them into begging, were vile enough for those animals to deserve death ten times over.
Soon, Yang Jing took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and composed himself before bending down to search Xu Tai's body.
As his fingers slipped inside the lapel of Xu Tai's clothes, he found something unexpected. It wasn't the silver taels he was looking for, but a small booklet with a coarse cover.
Yang Jing pulled out the booklet. On the cover, written in thick, dark ink, were three words: *Raging Wave Legs*.
'This is a martial arts manual?'
Yang Jing froze, then a wave of intense joy washed over him.
He was no longer the greenhorn he'd been when he first arrived in this world. As he continued his training, his understanding of martial arts had grown.
Yang Jing knew full well that a complete martial arts manual was an extremely rare treasure.
Take Sun's Martial Arts Hall, for example. The reason it enjoyed such a strong reputation throughout Yuhe County was entirely due to its *Mountain-Shattering Fist*.
Of course, the complete version of the *Mountain-Shattering Fist* was held by Sun Yong alone, and he was the only one who had trained it to the level of a Huajin Powerhouse. It was no exaggeration to say that in Yuhe County, Sun Yong *was* the *Mountain-Shattering Fist*.
The two were inextricably linked: to mention the *Mountain-Shattering Fist* was to think of Sun Yong, and to mention Sun Yong was to think of the *Mountain-Shattering Fist*.
Yang Jing gave the booklet a quick glance. Its pages were yellowed and the corners were frayed, clear signs of its age. Though he didn't know what tier of martial art *Raging Wave Legs* was, the fact that Xu Tai kept it hidden on his person suggested it was no cheap fake.
Having just committed a murder, the situation was still tense. Yang Jing had no time to read it. He folded the booklet and tucked it securely inside his robes, flat against his chest.
He then gave the room a quick search. There was nothing but scattered medicines and an empty bowl on the table, a few empty wooden crates under the bed, and some old clothes in the corner cabinet.
Yang Jing shook his head. It seemed there was nothing else of value in the room.
Without further delay, Yang Jing bent down, grabbed the corpse's arm, and hauled it onto the bed.
The corpse was heavy, but as an Entry-level Martial Artist, Yang Jing's strength was far beyond that of an ordinary person. Moving the body was no challenge.
Next, Yang Jing arranged the body to make it look as if Xu Tai had been unconscious from his injuries when a fire broke out and trapped him.
Once that was done, he turned, walked over to the square table, picked up the oil lamp, and went to the bed, touching the wick to the bed curtains.
The dry fabric caught instantly. With a WHOOSH, flames shot up, licking at the wooden bed frame and the bedding.
Yang Jing immediately backed away, turned, and dashed out the door.
He didn't dare linger. He vaulted the wall, his figure instantly melting into the darkness of the alleyway.
After running several dozen yards, he looked back. The remote courtyard was already a raging inferno, its glow dyeing half the night sky red.
Figures were already gathering toward the blaze. The air filled with shouts and the clatter of water buckets as neighbors rushed to fight the fire.
Watching the inferno, Yang Jing knew Xu Tai's body would soon be devoured by the flames and reduced to unrecognizable char.
The wounds from his punches, the shattered bones, every trace on the body—all would be obliterated by the intense heat. No one would ever know he had died by the *Mountain-Shattering Fist*.
Yang Jing didn't look back again. He quickened his pace through the alleyways, the *Raging Wave Legs* manual in his robes rising and falling with each step.
The glow from the fire behind him grew brighter and the clamor louder, but none of it concerned him anymore.
The score between him and the Great Fortune Gang was finally settled with the death of its Gang Leader, Xu Tai.
...
Under the cover of darkness, Yang Jing circled back to the trash heap in Fengle Square.
He brushed aside the covering of dead branches, leaves, and other refuse. The sack Scarface Li had taken from the Great Fortune Gang headquarters was still there. The clinking sound from within finally set his anxious heart at ease.
He immediately lifted the sack. It was heavy. A spark of keen anticipation for what lay inside lit up in Yang Jing's heart.
After retrieving the sack, Yang Jing immediately headed for Datong Square.
He grew more cautious along the way, sticking to the shadows beneath eaves and in the mouths of alleys. Whenever he encountered a patrolling Night Watchman or a drunkard, he would shrink into a corner and wait for them to pass.
Deep in a narrow alley, seeing that he was alone, Yang Jing quickly ducked into the shadows. He stripped off his Night Clothes and mask, stuffing them into the sack along with his bloodstained short blade.
With everything taken care of, he hefted the sack and continued toward Datong Square.
It was nearly the third watch, and Datong Square was deathly still, its inhabitants lost in sleep. Only a few lanterns still glowed before courtyard gates, and even those looked ready to be extinguished at any moment.
The fire and clamor in Xinghua Square were too distant to be heard here. In Datong Square, there was only the silence of slumber.
Yang Jing arrived outside his rented courtyard. He gently pushed open the unlatched gate and stepped inside, his footfalls whisper-quiet.
The other tenants' rooms were all dark. Yang Jing quickly returned to his own room and slid the bolt shut behind him.
Only then did he finally let out a sigh of relief. He leaned back against the door, listening to the rapid thumping of his own heart.
'Tonight was intense.'
Yang Jing let out a long breath, his gaze falling upon the sack on the floor. His eyes shone with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. 'Whether I can break through to Anjin soon... it all depends on what's in this mystery box.'