Chapter 17: Already Claimed

Wang Hai pulled on his gloves. Without waiting for the big cat to come to him, he rose and strode to the door.

Bang!

With one kick, he sent the door flying.

He found himself face to face with the big cat, which was just stepping onto the threshold.

Mrrrow!!!

With a piercing scream, the big cat sprang without a moment’s hesitation, launching itself straight at Wang Hai’s face!

To leap, body suspended midair with no foothold, is something any practiced fighter avoids unless left with no other choice or wielding a secret technique. But such instincts are lost on beasts. Wang Hai, however, would not waste this opening.

Swift as a shadow, he ducked low beneath the pounce, his hooked blade slicing along the cat’s belly—a move as legendary as it was ruthless.

With a wet slash, the cat’s abdomen split wide, spilling a riot of red, yellow, and green viscera that rained down from midair.

“Tch!”

His strike struck true, but Wang Hai cursed inwardly, pressing his hand to the ground as he spun away like a top, rolling aside to avoid the bloody spray pouring from the cat’s wound.

The gore that fell from the cat’s belly hit the floor with a hiss, bubbling and fizzing on the stone tiles. The viscera writhed slowly, occasionally bulging as if some living thing was trapped inside.

The big cat staggered as it landed, then braced itself, arching its back toward Wang Hai, emitting a harsh, sibilant growl. Its entrails were strewn across the floor—enough to kill any living creature, leaving it twitching helplessly. Yet the cat stood firm, seemingly unfazed, as if it had only been bumped.

Because it was already dead.

Or rather, it was merely a shell—an “overcoat” worn by something else.

Wang Hai flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders and beckoning to the cat.

“Come.”

He knew a little about these creatures, though it was his first time facing one directly. His first attack had been ruthless, nearly splattering him with that ominous, foul flesh.

The old house guard who’d once shattered a cat corpse with a single blow had only managed it because the “overcoat” was long dead—its flesh desiccated, bones brittle as old twigs.

But this cat had died only recently. Its flesh was fresh, tendons and bones almost as supple as in life, making it far more dangerous to subdue.

That suited Wang Hai just fine.

As mentioned before, Wang Hai’s claw technique was called “Shedding Leaves”—named for the art of pruning away the living parts of a plant. Its specialty was dismantling living beings piece by piece.

Li Miao often teased him: “If you ever leave the Embroidered Guards, you’d make a killing running a butchery.”

The big cat paused, then, with another harsh hiss, leapt for Wang Hai’s throat.

Wang Hai slipped aside, both hands brushing gently over the cat’s right hind leg.

The cat missed its mark, and upon landing, stumbled—its right leg now dangling uselessly behind it, swinging like a limp rope.

That single touch had sent force through fur and flesh, loosening joints, shattering bone, tearing tendons. Now, beneath its skin, the cat’s right leg was nothing but a pulpy mass.

A beast cannot master martial skills. Without the protection of inner energy, its flesh was nothing but clay in Wang Hai’s hands.

He smiled. “If I can’t touch your blood and flesh, I’ll leave your skin intact—make you into a bag of meat.”

Of course, the cat could not understand a word. It acted only on instinct.

Missing a leg’s worth of strength, the cat struggled long to regain its feet, then lunged weakly at Wang Hai.

He showed no mercy, pouncing forward and letting his hands sweep over the beast again and again.

In no time, the cat collapsed, limp and helpless. All muscle and bone below its neck had been reduced to mush, barely held together inside its hide, no longer able to move.

Only its eyes remained, glaring at Wang Hai with undying hatred.

He did not approach. Instead, he slammed his right foot down.

Boom!

With a muffled crash, the stone tile beneath him fractured, slabs tilting upward.

Whoosh!

Wang Hai kicked, sending a head-sized chunk of stone whistling through the air toward the cat’s skull.

Crack!

The stone exploded the cat’s head, splattering brains and blood in all directions.

Silence.

Wang Hai waited, listening for any sign of movement, thinking, “Is it dead?”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“This thing’s devoured at least three people, not to mention countless livestock. It shouldn’t be so fragile.”

Though not human, such creatures could not be underestimated. Even wild beasts have been known to play dead, only to maul hunters who let down their guard.

He kicked another stone, sending the corpse tumbling across the floor. It rolled, but did not move.

“Not inside the corpse.”

“Then… it’s underground!”

A rustling sound came from behind him.

Clang!!!

Wang Hai thrust his right hand back, colliding with something leaping at him!

He formed a claw, seizing it in his grip.

It was a centipede—blood-red, streaked with gray and green, as long as a human forearm!

When it struck the hooked blade on his glove, the clash rang out like metal on metal.

“Xiao Si! I’ve got it!”

The centipede writhed desperately in his grip, extending its body to bite his arm. But Wang Hai’s soft-style skills excelled at neutralizing force in close quarters. His arm twisted and flexed with every movement the centipede made, adapting instantly. It was like a caged bird, unable to break free.

Hearing Wang Hai’s call, Xiao Si burst through the door, hurrying over in quick, tiny steps.

She stopped before Wang Hai. He held the centipede in one hand, extending the other toward her.

Xiao Si reached out, swiping her palm across the hooked blade. Immediately, a deep cut opened in her hand, blood welling forth.

Her expression showed no pain; she seemed accustomed to such things. Without hesitation, she seized the centipede’s writhing head.

The centipede, ever hungry for flesh and blood, opened its jaws to burrow into her hand.

But the moment it touched Xiao Si’s blood, it went rigid, then fell limp, fainting dead away.

As soon as it stilled, the cat’s entrails spilled on the floor also ceased their writhing, emitting wisps of smoke as they blackened and rotted away.

Wang Hai released his grip.

Xiao Si lifted the centipede, spun it in the air, then wrapped it around her wrist. She turned to Wang Hai with a sweet, brilliant smile.

“Hai-ge, you’re amazing!”

Mei Qinghe emerged from the house just in time to see Xiao Si twine the dreadful centipede around her arm, shuddering in horror.

“What… what is that?”

Wang Hai patted Xiao Si’s head, then turned to Mei Qinghe with a gentle smile.

“Of course. You’ve been training at Mount Hua all this time. Such things are usually found only in Miaojiang, rarely in the martial world of the Central Plains. It’s no surprise you don’t recognize it.”

“If it weren’t for Xiao Si, we wouldn’t know it ourselves.”

“This is a gu—a venomous parasite.”

“And this one here must be a mature mother gu.”

Wang Hai was about to explain further when Xiao Si interrupted him.

“No, Hai-ge.”

“This mother gu… already has a master.”