Martial King's Retired Life

Jiang Chen wasn’t wrong in his assessment that Ming Feizhen was dangerous, except he underestimated how dangerous Ming Feizhen was. He, otherwise, wouldn’t have taken Ming Feizhen right back to his base. His second error was his incorrect assessment of Ming Feizhen’s body.

Normal people were done once their arm and leg tendons were destroyed. Someone with the Fengpeng’s power, on the other hand, would treat it with less significance than a bruise. Typically, a Fengpeng wouldn’t even suffer such an injury. If it did, within a few hours, it’d be as good as new. In seven days, there wouldn’t even be a mark left. Ming Feizhen could use his limbs as per normal days ago.

Timing was paramount. Once Wu Ping entered the prison and unintentionally distracted the brothers, Ming Feizhen spat out a thin iron thread he hid behind his teeth. Using the techniques Ming Huayu taught him, Ming Feizhen easily unlocked his cuffs.

Upon regaining freedom, Ming Feizhen put out the lights first because the iron rod in his collarbone was essentially a seal on his abilities. For an unarmed and defenceless man, it was an even bigger burden. He didn’t have any other weapon on him besides the iron thread, so he used his blood, which was the one thing he didn’t lack since his capture, to extinguish the flames. Even after days of lying still, he still had masterful control over his body.

While the three were locked in combat, Ming Feizhen silently got to his feet. He had to immediately grab the bent iron rod behind him and hang it on the iron hook for hanging chains on the wall. He leveraged his bodyweight to pull the iron object out of his cuboid. Luckily, the dampness of the dungeon masked the smell of his blood and dead flesh.

Owing to the movement of the iron object gradually moving as Ming Feizhen healed, it had virtually become a part of his chest, so the pain was enough to make him feel as if he was dying. He could feel his chilly droplets of sweat course down his face and his mind trying to shut down. Pulling a blade out of one’s body was always better than slowly dragging it out and prolonging the pain, let alone an iron rod. If he pulled fast, though, he’d make a loud sound, sending vibrations through the air. In turn, the trio would likely turn back to see him. Putting out the lights was stretching himself already. Choosing to reduce pain in exchange for death wasn’t exactly the goal.

Once he finally pulled the rod out, Ming Feizhen reversed his grip on the rod as he slumped down to the bottom of a squat. He didn’t crouch down due to the pain due to pain; he was biting his tongue the entire time to stay awake as he pulled it out. No mental or physical pain could stop him in that situation. He lowered himself merely to stop his blood from dripping onto the ground from a high height and alerting the three.

When Ming Feizhen recited the lines for Yan Jibei, it was to draw up what the status quo was for himself. If he spoke too fast or slow, Yan Jibei might’ve lost too soon. If he raised his voice too much or was too flat, the three might’ve suspected him. Hence, he needed to sound as robotic as possible despite the challenge.

Once Yan Jibei learnt what Ming Feizhen taught, Yan Jiangnan was on the path he wanted Yan Jiangnan to be on. As soon as Wu Ping backed out, it was the cue for Ming Feizhen to slam his hand into one side of Yan Jiangnan’s lower back. Yan Jiangnan then killed Yan Jibei, then became a cripple, while Ming Feizhen killed Wu Ping as he planned.

Ming Feizhen had steady hands for sure, though it was his timing and skill that secured the kill. The upward thrust into Wu Ping’s jaw wouldn’t have killed Wu Ping right away, meaning Ming Feizhen had to keep driving it up against Wu Ping’s strength. Like an anaconda, had he let up first, Wu Ping would’ve turned the tables. For that reason, Ming Feizhen didn’t quit even after Wu Ping broke several parts of his arm during his resistance.

Wu Ping’s consciousness waned because Ming Feizhen drove the iron object almost up to his skull. Wu Ping’s retaliation was purely survival instincts kicking in. The longer it dragged on, the weaker his attacks were, thereby increasing his danger whilst reducing his chances of survival. The converse was true for Ming Feizhen.

Although Wu Ping eventually stopped resisting as a result of blood loss, Ming Feizhen continued applying pressure as he waited for confirmation that he finished Wu Ping. Once the air was still, following a momentary blank, Ming Feizhen slowly let go. Not only did he release his hold but also his tension. His mind was liberated from any thoughts in that moment as he allowed ecstasy and a sense of security to fill him. Ming Feizhen’s humanness showed.

In that fleeting moment Ming Feizhen enjoyed release from all his stressors, Wu Ping somehow cried out in a booming voice, “Help!” Wu Ping’s cry for help sabotaged all of Ming Feizhen’s planning and efforts.

According to Ming Feizhen’s calculations, he still had twenty hours before the three were supposed to switch with three others, granting him a window to continue his plan. Alas, he was pulled back down to hell right after just crawling out of it.