Chapter 478 - 219: A Song to Herald the Dawn
Chapter 478: Chapter 219: A Song to Herald the Dawn
In the heat of the crisis, with no time to think, the Masked Man spread his arms. You Hour Divine Movement Technique—Shadow Skim!
His form became like a drifting, incorporeal shadow. With this change in his Body Technique, it was as if he were a fleeting illusion, and the pull on his body abruptly vanished.
Seeing his chance, the Masked Man used the momentum to leap into the air!
But... it was too late.
The North Nether Force Field and Eight-direction Burst had been unleashed at almost the same time.
From the moment the Masked Man’s initial evasive flash had failed to escape Fang Shuwen’s range, this punch was already unstoppable.
Just as the Masked Man leaped into mid-air, the punch shot toward his legs.
The Masked Man’s heart sank. In that split second, he kicked out to meet Fang Shuwen’s fist.
A streak of golden light flowed over his leg, giving it the appearance of solid metal, its sharp aura seemingly unstoppable.
CLANG!!
The collision of fist and foot actually produced the sound of ringing metal.
The two torrents of Inner Strength instantly radiated outward. With a sharp HISS, the large tree closest to them, standing right between them, violently disintegrated.
The lower half turned to dust, while the upper half looked as if it had been cleanly sliced by a weapon.
As the two forces spread, grass and wood were sent flying, and shattered stones rolled out like a tidal wave.
Even the ground beneath Fang Shuwen’s feet began to crack and splinter.
Within a thirty-foot radius, the ground sank a full two and a half inches.
Even the teahouse, more than thirty feet away, was battered by the shockwave, splintering with a series of loud CRACKS and threatening to collapse.
This drew the waiter and the Shopkeeper to the window. The impatience on their faces was gone, replaced entirely by sheer horror.
Never mind them—even Fang Shuwen’s eyes held a flicker of surprise.
’This Masked Man really has some skills.’
’But that’s as far as it goes...’
CRACK! CRACK!
The golden light shattered, and the horrifying sound of breaking bones rang out.
It wasn’t just the bones that shattered; the flesh and blood were disintegrating as well.
In the blink of an eye, the Masked Man’s entire leg dissolved into a fine mist of blood.
He was an expert, after all. Despite losing a leg, the Masked Man only let out a muffled grunt.
But with one leg gone, he could no longer flee. Throwing caution to the wind, he spread his arms and dove, pulling his palms back before splaying his fingers and thrusting them forward.
In that instant, a thousand finger-shadows tore through the air!
Morning Book—Morning Herald Finger!
Like a curtain of night, heralding the break of dawn!
The endless finger-shadows were a mix of real and illusory, light and heavy, fast and slow, as if trying to tear apart the night’s canopy and usher in the dawn with a single touch.
Fang Shuwen’s eyes flashed as he watched, and he burst into laughter.
"An excellent move!"
He countered with the Plum Blossom Scattering Hand, slipping through the gaps in the attack. Amidst the layers of illusory shadows, he grabbed, pushed, coiled, and tapped... Suddenly, the sky full of finger-shadows contracted, and a single finger was caught between Fang Shuwen’s own.
’Caught him!’
Fang Shuwen chuckled softly.
With two sharp CRACKS, the finger bones shattered. Fang Shuwen’s hands continued up the arm, first breaking the forearm, then seizing the shoulder.
He pulled the man forward, about to bring him fully under control. But just then, the Masked Man took a sharp, deep breath, his chest swelling as he unleashed a ferocious howl.
The first thing the long howl shattered was his mask, revealing the face of a man in his forties.
An endless sound wave rolled out, kicking up sand and stones.
Morning Book—One Cry to Whiten the World!
This was the final move in the Morning Book. It was neither a Fingering Technique nor a leg technique, but a Sound Technique!
It was a technique of silent preparation for a guaranteed strike.
As the roaring sound wave charged forward, Miao Feichan’s expression changed. She grabbed Yu Yaoguang’s shoulder and, in a fraction of a second, leaped into the air.
The teahouse behind them, however, could not escape...
In a single instant, it was annihilated by the endless sound wave.
Only a single sliver of it in the very middle managed to survive.
This, however, tore away the wall to the back, revealing the dumbfounded Shopkeeper and waiter in the kitchen.
However, this was only the beginning.
The sound wave carved a destructive path forward, and everything in its way, be it trees or giant boulders, was vibrated into dust.
Two clear gouges were carved into the ground, stretching for hundreds of feet with no end in sight.
Until a crisp SLAP echoed.
The sound wave was abruptly cut off. Looking over, one could see the Masked Man, his head tilted to the side with a dazed expression.
An incredibly clear handprint had appeared on his right cheek.
"Who told you to shout like that?"
Fang Shuwen asked, sounding puzzled:
"If it’s a ’Morning Herald’ move... shouldn’t you be crowing like a rooster? What’s with all the howling?"
’Is that really the point?’
Having just been slapped across the face, the Masked Man’s head was buzzing.
’He couldn’t help but wonder, why was Fang Shuwen completely unharmed?’
’The power of One Cry to Whiten the World was in no way inferior to Shi Wuya’s Lonely Mountain Night Rain. And he’d unleashed it at point-blank range with no warning.’
’How did Fang Shuwen emerge completely unscathed?’
’Could his Body-Protecting Divine Technique truly be that unfathomable?’
Before he could sort out his thoughts, Fang Shuwen activated his North Nether Divine Technique. The Masked Man felt the Inner Strength in his body surge out like a bursting dam, flowing entirely into Fang Shuwen’s palm.
His eyes bulged, but he couldn’t force out a single word.
He could only watch helplessly as his Inner Strength was completely drained away. Only then was he able to take a huge gasp of air.
Just then, Fang Shuwen reached out, grabbed his chin, and with a gentle tug—CRACK!—dislocated his jaw, preventing him from biting down.
He used the ambient light to check the man’s mouth for a poison tooth.
Seeing nothing unusual, he laid the man on the ground and gave him another thorough inspection. Once he was sure there were no other tricks, he waved Yu Yaoguang and Miao Feichan over.
Then he picked up the Masked Man and prepared to leave.
But after only two steps, he seemed to remember something and glanced back at the teahouse.
Looking closely at the ground now, one could see that the spot where Fang Shuwen stood was completely unaffected by the One Cry to Whiten the World.
Even the ground behind him was completely unmarked.
That surviving sliver of the teahouse owed its existence to Fang Shuwen...
You could say that the moment the Masked Man’s One Cry to Whiten the World reached Fang Shuwen, it split in two.
Looking at the teetering teahouse, Fang Shuwen put the Masked Man down again. The man’s pressure points had been sealed, but blood was still flowing freely from his ruined leg.
He reached into his robes, pulled out a silver note, glanced at it—one hundred taels—and put it back.
He took out another. Fifty taels.
Feeling that was about right, Fang Shuwen walked into the remains of the teahouse and placed the silver note in the Shopkeeper’s hand.
"My apologies. You were caught in the crossfire.
"This silver is for your troubles. Farewell."
This Shopkeeper was no ordinary man. He had once roamed the Jianghu and made quite a name for himself.
But he had grown tired of the endless fighting and killing of the Jianghu, so he’d retired to open this teahouse.
The waiter was his son. He’d studied Martial Arts under his father since he was a boy, but was forbidden from venturing into the Jianghu.
That was why he always wore a sour expression, looking at everyone with disdain.
But as he watched Fang Shuwen say his piece, pick up the master with the broken leg, and depart with the two women... the waiter suddenly felt that maybe staying out of the Jianghu wasn’t so bad after all.
’With his level of skill, being a waiter in this teahouse was actually pretty great.’
’If the Jianghu was full of people like that...’
The waiter couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.
He turned to look at his father, a newfound understanding in his eyes.
Although the Shopkeeper knew his son had likely misunderstood something, he had no intention of correcting him.
Only after Fang Shuwen and his group had completely disappeared from sight did the Shopkeeper eagerly look down at the silver note.
’He was filled with anticipation.’
’An expert of his caliber... giving anything less than eight or ten thousand taels would be an insult to his own status.’
However, when he unfolded the note, the bold words "Fifty Taels" stared back at him. The Shopkeeper’s lip twitched.
"What a stingy expert."
...
...
Fang Shuwen was walking along when he suddenly sneezed.
His ears twitched. He had a feeling someone was badmouthing him.
But at the moment, he was carrying the Masked Man in one hand and Shi Wuya in the other.
So he couldn’t be bothered to track down the person badmouthing him and settle the score.
More importantly, he was in a bit of a hurry... because he’d left Fang Dabao waiting in the rain at the entrance to the deserted village.