Chapter Seventy-Seven: A Remarkable Reunion

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In order to swiftly kill the long-snouted horned crocodile trapped in the mire beneath him, Zhao Fan unleashed a continuous burst of true qi, stomping dozens of times with all his strength in each step.

Under normal circumstances, this would not be too difficult; it would only consume a great deal of true qi, leaving his muscles sore and legs swollen with pain in the meridians.

But here, in the poisonous swamp, every burst of energy broke his breath-holding concentration. These countless bursts without regard for loss caused him to inhale too much toxic miasma, severely damaging his internal organs and causing him to vomit blood clots intermittently.

After killing the long-snouted horned crocodile, Zhao Fan did not pursue the two disciples of the Yunhai Sect as Chen Qi had expected. Instead, he chose to clear the battlefield.

Of course, this so-called clearing was more like a self-burial. He gathered all the carcasses of the ferocious beasts nearby and buried them together with the blue-haired big dog.

Having done this, Zhao Fan’s condition worsened. His steps became unsteady, dizziness repeatedly assaulted his mind, so he simply lay flat on the swamp ground.

He no longer had the strength to chase after those two Yunhai Sect boys!

As he sank deeper, an unmistakable premonition filled his heart—he was going to die here. Perhaps being buried alongside the big dog was the best fate for Zhao Fan.

Speaking of the big dog, a gentle expression appeared on Zhao Fan’s stiff face. That dog had been given to him by the Yunshan Marquis on his seventeenth birthday after he had killed for the Marquis.

Within the high-walled Yunshan Marquis residence, the blue-haired big dog was his only friend. They trained together, shared precious medicines, and secretly enjoyed rare moments of leisure.

Thinking of this, the softness in Zhao Fan’s expression deepened. He forced out a mouthful of mud, squeezing a faint smile born from memories, completely indifferent to the swamp’s attempt to swallow him whole.

Only this blue-haired simpleton never despised his origins. Only it was willing to stick by his side every day—no isolation! No bullying! No scheming!

Later, one man and one dog left the Marquis’s residence. With the big dog’s help, whether they were mountain bandits or elusive thieves who had washed their hands of crime, or the young son of the Yunshan Marquis’s archrival, the Qingyang Marquis, traveling incognito, they were unstoppable!

Faced with the contemptuous nickname “Dog Young Master” from his peers, Zhao Fan not only did not get angry but secretly savored it.

Thinking of this, Zhao Fan’s expression suddenly twisted into deep mockery, his lips curling wildly, though he no longer knew what he was mocking.

After a long moment, Zhao Fan suddenly pulled himself out of the swamp and forced himself to roll over.

Standing once more on the swampy ground, Zhao Fan took several bottles of elixirs from his bosom and swallowed them all without checking their labels.

Given his identity and role, he naturally did not have access to miraculous pills that could nourish his nearly depleted and collapsing internal organs, nor any rare remedies to purge the poison miasma inside. But he did have some potent drugs capable of temporarily suppressing wounds and violently squeezing out his latent potential and vitality.

Not just a little—actually quite a lot. It seemed those who gave him these pills feared he would be unable to fight at full capacity during his missions, hence their “generosity.”

After ingesting the numerous potent medicines, a bit of color returned to Zhao Fan’s pale face. The stabbing pain in his internal organs lessened noticeably, and his languid breath grew rapidly stronger.

Everything seemed to improve, except that with Zhao Fan’s innate abilities, he could observe through internal vision that his once bright red internal organs were hardening and blackening at a visible rate—a blackening that was incurable and irreversible!

But no matter what, things could not get any worse.

Even for the big dog’s sake, and to linger a bit longer in the world he still clung to, he should not so passively bury himself here.

At the very least, the swamp should be the one to bury him.

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Speaking of the big dog again, Zhao Fan recalled the last look it gave him. Tears uncontrollably streamed down his cheeks, yet his lips defied reason and curled upward once more.

In that instant, his expression was both crying and smiling.

Suddenly! Zhao Fan raised his head and spotted a figure drawing ever closer in the distance. He could no longer hold back and let out a roar:

“Ha! Damn this cursed fate!”

With the roar came two streams of pale yellow true qi from his hands, condensing instantly. Without hesitation, he thrust them toward the increasingly distinct figure ahead.

His most familiar opening move—the Three Suns Fist: Two Dragons Drawing Water.

“???????”

Chen Qi, charging forward, saw two pale yellow qi currents crossing toward his face, a string of question marks rising in his mind, nearly visible on his face.

“What’s going on?”

Despite his confusion, Chen Qi’s body, tempered by many near-death experiences, reacted immediately. He held his long blade horizontally in front of his face, gripping both the hilt and the tip, blocking the two qi currents in the nick of time.

Feeling an immense force strike along the blade, Chen Qi staggered backward, leaving deep footprints in the swamp.

Although Chen Qi absorbed the attack with barely a scratch, the two qi currents did not dissipate completely but lingered on the back of the blade, forcing him to keep holding the sword firmly.

The qi pressed against the sword, struggling with Chen Qi’s hands, causing the blade to vibrate violently and slice tiny cuts into his palms.

At that moment, through the sword, Chen Qi finally saw the attacker standing before him, an exaggerated smile on his face.

Without saying another word, Zhao Fan spread his arms, palms again flashing with pale yellow true qi. Tilting slightly, he struck with lightning speed, aiming at both of Chen Qi’s ears, evading the sword held before his face.

Though it appeared to be a simple double palm strike targeting the ears, it arrived precisely at the moment Chen Qi’s hands and sword were unable to defend—a perfect timing.

As Chen Qi caught sight of the figure clearly at the corner of his eye, he silently thought, “This is bad,” and quickly activated his skill to focus and explode his power.

Relying on absolute control over his body during the skill’s duration, Chen Qi immediately suppressed the overwhelming regret flooding his mind.

At a life-and-death moment, there was no time for remorse.

His keen nerves sensed a sudden chill near his ears before Zhao Fan’s palms struck, triggering an alarm in his heart.

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Without hesitation, Chen Qi pressed the sword with both hands, causing his head to snap downward swiftly using the rebound force, then released his grip.

Without support from his hands, the sword flew directly toward Chen Qi’s face. However, due to his sudden bowing, it did not injure him but only cut off a lock of hair lifted by the wind as he lowered his head.

Moreover, this unusual bowing caused Zhao Fan’s double palm strike aimed at Chen Qi’s ears to miss, instead colliding together.

“Smack!”

Zhao Fan’s palms clashed, and a faint roar of true qi resonated within his hands.

Seeing the strike fail, Zhao Fan remained unhurried and immediately changed tactics.

He clasped his fingers together smoothly, transforming the original clapping motion into a hammer fist in an instant.

With a twist of his waist and lift of his arm, the motionless hammer fist gained power instantly, crashing down fiercely onto Chen Qi’s head.

Though this move seemed an instinctive change, containing no true qi, it was astonishingly fast and continuous, leaving no pause. Even with Chen Qi still in skill mode, he only managed a slight tilt of his head.

This seemingly passive tilt cleverly allowed Chen Qi’s vulnerable temple to avoid the blow.

“Bang!”

The hammer struck Chen Qi’s crown with tremendous force, covering his head with blood. The impact sent him flying several meters, his lower body sinking into the swamp.

Though Chen Qi’s head bore the brunt with the hardest skull bone, the tremendous impact left him dazed, kneeling in the swamp motionless for a long time.

But Zhao Fan did not hesitate with his next strike!

Even though he felt weak and knew the medicinal power inside him was nearly exhausted, he forced his trembling hand into a fist imprint.

“Three Suns Fist: Slanting Sunset Among Falling Grass.”

Zhao Fan’s voice was faint, his tone ordinary as if he had said this countless times before. At the edge of life, he performed the familiar finishing move of the Three Suns Fist from memory, delivering this final punch.

The seemingly incomplete fist imprint drifted out, tracing a mournful arc as it descended toward Chen Qi’s fallen position.

“A quiet heart’s affairs, speechless before the slanting sunset.”