The crossbowmen readied their arrows, but Zhao Lin acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. He closed the distance to Zheng Ma in a single bound, raised his iron ruler, and brought it down on the back of his head.
Zheng Ma's brains splattered, and he died on the spot.
Yang Dan roared, "Fire!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the front rank of crossbowmen pulled their triggers. A dozen or so crossbow arrows fanned out toward Zhao Lin.
To deal with martial arts masters, Yang Dan had specifically made his crossbowmen spend a great deal of time practicing scattered shots to seal off an opponent's escape routes.
Having just killed Zheng Ma, Zhao Lin knew the angle of the incoming arrows without even looking up. He was keenly aware of the position of every single bolt. Pushing off with his legs, he shot straight into the air.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
The dozen or so deadly arrows flew past beneath his feet.
