Chapter 56: The Encirclement Hunt

Upon stepping into the secret passage, An Ziyang was immediately greeted by a pungent wave of heavy blood odor.

He squatted down and brushed his hand against the floor, feeling a thin film plastered to the ground. It crumbled at the slightest touch, leaving the skin of his fingers coated with a gelatinous layer that dissolved and spread across his fingertips.

His heart sank.

An Ziyang naturally knew this was dried blood.

Judging solely by the amount of bloodstains on the floor, it amounted to the combined total of at least three or four people bled dry. And this was merely the corridor, far from the actual interrogation and imprisonment chambers.

It was evident that most of those within the household who had been replaced were likely doomed. The decisiveness and ruthlessness of the Ming Cult were plain to see.

Fortunately, after meeting Li Miao today, An Ziyang had already prepared to make his escape, carrying all manner of life-saving contrivances on his person. As long as he did not have to face more than three top-tier martial artists simultaneously, he still possessed the means to ensure his own survival.

An Ziyang proceeded with utmost caution.

A short while later, he stumbled upon a hidden chamber.

Pressing his ear against the door panel, he listened closely and caught the intermittent sounds of cries for help, presumably coming from the members of the An family imprisoned within.

Boom!

A loud crash echoed from directly above, causing a shower of dust to drift down from the ceiling of the secret passage.

An Ziyang cursed inwardly, "Is that even the kind of commotion a human being can make?"

That thunderous impact was precisely the result of Li Miao striking the woman down and subsequently stomping his foot onto the ground.

The secret chamber fell abruptly silent, clearly startled by the noise, before suddenly erupting into a flurry of commotion as several people began speaking all at once, their tones laced with excitement. For the imprisoned members of the An family, any disturbance signaled a change, and no matter what kind of change it might be, it had to be better than rotting here, awaiting torture and death.

Before An Ziyang could listen closely to discern whether his father's voice was among them, a sharp scream rang out from inside.

"Ah!"

Splat—

An Ziyang's expression darkened.

That was the sound of blood spraying from an artery. At that volume, the injured party could not possibly survive.

"Something has happened up above. Judging by that commotion, it's not firearms; it's a battle between Celestial-realm masters."

"Shaolin isn't far from here. That person just showed up at Shaolin a few days ago, so he must have tracked us down."

A calm voice spoke up.

"The hostages are of no further use, kill them all. Douse everything with lamp oil and set it ablaze before we leave."

"That person is like an immortal; finding this place is only a matter of time. We have at most the time it takes to brew a cup of tea. Move quickly!"

A chorus of assent rang out from within, belonging to at least a dozen people.

An Ziyang sucked in a breath through his teeth, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He no longer had the luxury of probing the situation or taking his time. If he waited any longer, the An family members inside would likely be slaughtered to the last person.

Snap!

An Ziyang kicked the door open violently and shouted in a resonant voice.

"Imperial Guard official business! Anyone who doesn't want to die, kneel!"

Taking advantage of that fleeting moment, he took in the situation within the secret chamber.

Along the walls of the chamber, several narrow wooden cages had been erected, inside of which more than a dozen people were huddled, staring at him with eyes full of hope. The floor was stained with blood, and a few wooden tables were cluttered with instruments of torture, paper, brushes, utensils, and sundries. In the corner sat a stack of sacks oozing a dark red liquid, which undoubtedly contained corpses.

On a rack in the far corner, An Ziyang spotted An Wenjie, his head slumped forward as though he had already lost consciousness.

All around, a dozen ordinary-looking men armed with sabers and swords were eyeing him with wary vigilance.

The scene fell dead silent for a moment.

An Ziyang had simply thrown out the name of the Imperial Guard because that was the only entity in the pugilistic world the Ming Cult feared. Yet, by a stroke of blind luck, his bluff terrified the cult members.

For no other reason than this: Li Miao was, after all, an Imperial Guard.

They had already been scared out of their wits by Li Miao and were plotting to pack up and flee; hearing those three words out of nowhere made their calves tremble.

Both sides were like wildcats crossing paths—each wary of the other—and neither made a move for the moment.

Still, nobody present was a fool, and this stalemate lasted only two or three breaths.

"He is An Ziyang," said the calm voice.

"He's no Imperial Guard; he's just a dead weight from the An family, here to rescue people. He's only second-tier."

"Kill him!"

"Damn it!"

In a flash, blades gleamed and swords swept through the air!

An Ziyang replicated his previous tactic, hurling a small pouch onto the ground, and instantly a cloud of thick smoke billowed forth.

"Close your eyes, cover your nose and mouth, protect your bodies, and drive it out with inner qi!"

The calm voice rang out once more.

Instantly, the Ming Cult members with lesser martial arts instinctively retreated toward the walls, waving their weapons to shield their fronts. Several top-tier Ming Cult members simultaneously projected their inner qi, dispersing the powder within mere moments.

"Damn it, they're truly tough to deal with!"

"They're not on the same level as those four outside!"

An Ziyang cursed under his breath.

Such concoctions were difficult to preserve; exposed to the air for even a moment, they would lose their toxicity. With their swift maneuvers, these Ming Cult members had already neutralized his lethal opening move.

However, all of his equipment came in a systematic set—if one trick failed, there was always another.

Taking advantage of the chaos, he slipped over to An Wenjie's cage, tossed an object inside, and then lightly and silently pressed his back against the spine of one of the top-tier experts who had been clearing the powder.

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a shower of fine, blue-gleaming ox-hair needles.

"Ah!"

"Hidden weapons! There's poison!"

"There! He's over there!"

"It's me! Stop attacking!"

Several furious shouts rang out simultaneously.

An Ziyang's lime powder had obstructed their vision, and now everyone could only judge positions by sound. He had cast his hidden weapons toward the group, and after several individuals were struck, they counterattacked in the direction the projectiles came from—only to be intercepted by the Ming Cult expert An Ziyang was using as a human shield.

"It's me! That little brat launched the hidden weapons from my direction!"

The expert batted away his comrades' onslaught, just as he was about to continue offering clarifications.

He felt a tiny, sharp prick of pain at his back.

"Right behind me!?"

He spun around wildly to strike, but hit nothing.

"He's already escaped!? The kid is only second-tier, yet his proficiency in lightness kung fu and internal energy is so profound that even I couldn't hear a sound?"

Just as he began to ponder this, a sudden wave of numbness and itching surged from his back.

Following right behind it was a searing, agonizing pain that instantly shattered his sanity.

"Ah!!!"

The expert let out a wailing cry, thrashing out blindly in all directions, and instantly struck the very Ming Cult disciples who had mistakenly attacked him earlier, sending them flying to the ground where they drew their final breaths.

Splat—

Thud.

A fountain of blood erupted from the expert's throat as he crashed to the ground, motionless.

The calm voice spoke once more: "He has been struck by the Tang Clan's 'Madness God' poison; he's beyond saving."

Beside the corpse of the expert, a masked man turned his head to look at An Ziyang, who was cowering in the corner.

"The Tang Clan's poison, the Thieves' Guild's lightness kung fu, the Mechanism Sect's hidden weapons. And he uses a sword, too."

"Quite a repertoire of tricks. Ruthless enough, and clever enough."

"Pity that you are, after all, nothing more than a second-tier piece of trash. Once the means you used to blind our vision disperse, you will have no room left to struggle."

By now, the smoke and dust within the secret chamber had completely dissipated. The members of the Ming Cult cast cold gazes upon An Ziyang and slowly closed in on him.

Ten members of the Ming Cult remained, among whom four were of the top tier.