Chapter 57: Weak

Next time I track, I need to hide my internal energy better.

Nanxi thought this to himself, and at the same time, his body was already moving—the earthen wall in front of him had already boomed and exploded.

The black-clothed person charged straight through the wall, pouncing over. 

Her movements were fast, her fist wind fierce, carrying a whooshing sound through the air, aimed directly at Nanxi’s face.

Nanxi didn’t retreat.

He didn’t even make any extra movements; he just lifted his right foot, aimed at the incoming figure, and gave a light kick.

Bang!

A muffled impact sound.

The black-clothed person’s body flew back like a kite with a cut string, at a speed faster than when she came, crashing into the earthen wall on the other side of the dilapidated house. 

The wall shook, shedding large clumps of dust. She fell to the ground, grunted, and struggled to get up, but failed after two tries.

Nanxi stood in place, brushing the dust off his clothes, looking at that disheveled figure, and said softly.

“So weak.”

The moment the words fell, he himself was stunned for a second.

Oh no, he accidentally said what was in his mind out loud.

Inside and outside the room, there was dead silence.

Only the night wind blowing through the dilapidated house made a whining sound, and the suppressed breathing of the female constable in the corner.

Then, the black-clothed person slowly lifted her head.

The iron mask covered her face, but those eyes exposed through the holes were now bloodshot, red as if about to drip blood. 

She stared fixedly at Nanxi, her chest heaving violently, each breath carrying a hoarse rasp.

“You brat,” she squeezed out three words through gritted teeth, her voice twisted and deformed by rage, “I’m going to kill you!”

Before the last word was fully out, she had pounced again.

This time faster, more ruthless, both fists striking together, the fist wind wrapped in true essence, tracing two faint golden trails in the air. 

The moves were standard, a fairly common fist technique in the jianghu.

But Nanxi just watched.

He watched those fists get closer and closer, watched the fist wind ruffle his hair, watched the near-mad killing intent in the black-clothed person’s eyes.

Then, at the instant the fists were about to touch his face, he moved.

His body tilted slightly to the side, left hand raised, five fingers spread, like catching a falling leaf, gently catching the first fist. 

The fist force was great, numbing his palm, but that was all.

Then his right hand shot out like a spirit snake from its hole, cutting in from another angle, index and middle fingers together, lightly tapping the black-clothed person’s wrist pulse on the second fist.

“Uh!”

The black-clothed person grunted, her entire arm instantly going numb and sore, her fist momentum stalling.

Nanxi took advantage and stepped forward half a pace, his shoulder giving a light bump.

This bump seemed casual, but actually contained a clever force of internal energy. 

The black-clothed person only felt a flexible yet domineering power coming from her shoulder, her whole body uncontrollably staggering back, retreating seven or eight steps before barely steadying herself.

She looked down at her wrist, already red and swollen, a piercing pain with the slightest movement.

“You…”

She lifted her head, her voice carrying not just rage and shock, but also a trace of imperceptible fear.

Nanxi gave her no chance to speak.

He stepped forward, movements not fast, even a bit leisurely, like strolling in his own courtyard.

But with each step, the aura on him climbed a notch. 

By the time he reached three steps in front of the black-clothed person, that pressure belonging to an Innate Realm expert had spread like a tide, pressing down so one could hardly breathe.

The black-clothed person gritted her teeth, forcibly rousing her true essence to resist, forming a faint golden shield around her body.

Nanxi stopped, tilted his head, seeming a bit curious.

Then he extended his right index finger, and lightly poked that layer of golden light.

Pop.

The golden light shattered on contact, turning into specks of light dust dissipating into the night. 

The black-clothed person was struck as if by a heavy blow, spitting out a mouthful of blood, her whole body flying back again, crashing into the wall.

This time she couldn’t get up immediately. 

She sat leaning against the wall, rough panting coming from under the iron mask, blood seeping from the mask’s edges, dripping onto her black robe, blooming dark stains.

Nanxi looked at her, a strange feeling suddenly rising in his heart.

Too weak.

Unnaturally weak.

By rights, someone who could plan the murder of the prefect’s son, use serial cases as cover, and command someone like the flower thief shouldn’t have this level of skill.

First or second-grade strength, crude moves, even the most basic true essence usage full of holes. 

Based on her words, she seemed to be from the Liang imperial family’s forces, but judging by these moves, she was more like a temporarily recruited jianghu wanderer.

But if temporarily recruited, why use an iron mask to cover the face, why deliberately change the speaking tone?

Nanxi couldn’t figure it out.

And just then, the other person in the room moved.

The flower thief.

She had been standing in the center of the room, coldly watching the earlier fight. 

Now seeing the black-clothed person defeated, she didn’t panic; instead, she grinned.

That smile was disgusting, like discovering some interesting toy.

“Yo,” she spoke, her voice still so rough and hoarse, but with added mockery, “Isn’t this the little beauty in the pink dress from last night? Changed clothes, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Nanxi turned his head, looking at her.

The flower thief sized him up and down, her gaze naked and repulsive.

“Tsk tsk, last night I was far away, didn’t see clearly; now up close, really… stunning.”

She licked her lips, her voice excited.

“As long as you surrender, sister will take good care of you… hehe.”

After speaking, she licked her lips with her tongue; paired with her appearance, it was quite disgusting.

Nanxi’s brows furrowed.

Disgust, like seeing a fat cockroach crawling on food—that pure revulsion surging from the bottom of his heart.

“Little beauty, don’t make such a cold face.”

The flower thief kept talking, slowly shifting her steps; she was looking for a chance to strike.

“You ran away last night; sister regretted it all night. Today is perfect; let’s finish what we didn’t. Don’t worry, sister’s technique is good, guaranteed to make you…”

Before the words finished, she suddenly moved.

Her figure flashed, already retreating to the female constable’s side in the corner. 

Movements so fast, even Nanxi was slightly stunned.

Good lightness skill.

Much stronger than that black-clothed person earlier, even stronger than himself.

The flower thief’s one hand clamped the female constable’s neck, the other hand untied something from her waist—not a knife or sword, but a pair of hook claws, black iron claws, the blades curved like eagle beaks, the tips gleaming with eerie blue light, obviously poisoned.

“Don’t move, oh.” She smiled at Nanxi, the smile hideous. 

“If you dare take another step forward, I’ll snap this little lady’s neck first. Though I’m not interested in women, killing, well, I’m quite good at that.”

Nanxi stopped his steps.

Puzzled for a moment, the boy didn’t understand why the flower thief would think he was in cahoots with this female constable.

He looked at those hands clamped on the female constable’s neck, looked at her face reddening from suffocation, looked at the surging anger and humiliation in those red eyes.

Then Nanxi sighed.

“You talk too much.”

The moment the words fell, the boy moved.

Movements not fast, but abrupt, like long planned. Almost at the same time, the flower thief’s right hand waved, one hook claw flying off, shooting straight at where he had just stood.

Clang!

The hook claw embedded deeply into the ground, stone fragments flying.

The flower thief’s expression changed; she hadn’t expected Nanxi to predict her move.

But this was just the beginning.

Nanxi’s steps didn’t stop, continuing to move. Sometimes forward, sometimes back, sometimes dodging left and right, each step landing in the blind spots of the flower thief’s vision and attacks, each movement just evading her thrown hook claws.

The hook claws danced in the air, tracing arcs of eerie blue, but Nanxi always dodged at the last hair’s breadth, not even his clothes brushed.

The flower thief’s face grew uglier.

Her lightness skill was good, her hook claws tricky, but she found she couldn’t touch this boy at all; the other was like a slippery loach, always changing position just before she struck, making all her calculations fail.

Worse, she felt the other’s true essence climbing.

Like undercurrents beneath ice, surface calm, but underneath harboring destructive power.

She had misjudged the boy’s strength.

Finally, when Nanxi dodged the hook claw for the seventh time, his figure drifting to three feet on her left, the flower thief couldn’t hold back.

She released the hand clamping the female constable’s neck, both hands waving together, both hook claws flying off at once, one left one right, sealing all Nanxi’s retreat paths.

This was her killing move, Twin Dragons Emerge from the Sea, never failed.

But this time Nanxi didn’t dodge.

He stood in place, watching those two whistling hook claws, slowly raising his right hand.

Palm up, five fingers slightly spread.

Then, cold qi erupted.

Not diffuse cold qi, but condensed, substantial white airflow, surging from his palm, instantly filling a three-zhang radius. 

Temperature plummeted, ground frosted over, moisture in the air condensing into fine ice crystals, sparkling in the moonlight.

The two hook claws flew into the cold qi range, their speed visibly slowing. 

The eerie blue blades quickly covered in white frost, then with two dings, fell to the ground, like two pieces of scrap iron.

The flower thief was stunned.

She looked at her most prized weapons thus ruined, looked at the boy standing in the center of the cold qi, looked at that swirling mass in his palm emitting terrifying low temperature white airflow, her mind blank.

Then she saw Nanxi move.

A simple step forward.

Then a simple thrust.

Right hand index and middle fingers together, fingertip condensing a point of extreme cold gleam, aimed at her chest, lightly tapping.

The flower thief only felt a chill at her chest, then a sharp stabbing pain. 

She looked down, seeing a small hole in her chest, not big, but deep. 

No blood flowed, because the vessels and muscles around the wound were already thoroughly frozen.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but made no sound. 

Her body began losing strength, vision blurring. 

The last she saw was the boy’s indifferent gaze, and that point of cold gleam on his fingertip gradually dissipating.

She fell.

Like the black-clothed person, leaning against the wall, slowly sliding to sit on the ground. 

The difference was her eyes still open, full of unwillingness and disbelief.

Nanxi withdrew his hand, turned to look in another direction.

The black-clothed person was still sitting there, leaning against the wall, breathing under the iron mask already very faint. 

She watched Nanxi approach, watched him raise his hand, watched that finger carrying cold qi lightly tap her chest.

The same chill, the same stabbing pain.

Then she fell too.

Nanxi stood in place, looking at the two bodies gradually losing warmth, feeling no ripples in his heart.

After all, killing people was something he had grown used to.

He had no intention of interrogating.

He wasn’t interested in the black-clothed person’s origins, the identity of the mastermind behind, or the full picture of this conspiracy. 

The boy just wanted those five hundred taels of silver; these messy matters had nothing to do with him.

He walked to the corner, squatted down, and looked at the bound female constable.

The female constable was also looking at him.

Those red eyes were now full of complex shock, and a trace of probing that Nanxi couldn’t understand.

Her mouth was still stuffed with cloth, unable to speak, only making muffled sounds.

Nanxi reached out and pulled the cloth gag from her mouth.