Martial King's Retired Life

Vivianite could only guess Hong Jiu managed to see through his attack to prevent him from halving Hong Jiu. In reality, the purpose of Hong Jiu’s breathing style wasn’t merely to support Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms but also to find Vivianite’s rhythm.

Though Hong Jiu managed to catch Vivianite, he lost, and was still losing, a lot of blood to accomplish it. In fact, all his closed wounds opened up. There was no reason for Vivianite to feel apprehensive when his opponent, who was already on the cusp of death, had been stabbed, as well. The only emotion he felt was rage.

Vivianite: What do you want? What the hell are you talking about?

Hong Jiu squeezed harder and harder as he used his right hand palm Vivianite over and over no differently to a street thug spraying and praying.

Vivianite: How much longer do you intend to humiliate me for? You expect to defeat me with these weak tickles? You think you can defeat League of Assassins’ top assassin like this? Don’t mess with me!

While Hong Jiu’s strikes didn’t have much behind them, they weren’t just tickles. A fly might not have been able to crash into a human adult and kill them, but the constant buzzing wouldn’t be annoying, no?

Vivianite rotated his arm, chopping the quze accupoint in Hong Jiu’s elbow pit to try liberating himself. Siphoning internal energy through the pericardium meridian of hand-jueyin was the best option since Hong Jiu was weakened. As expected, Hong Jiu gasped blood instantly. If Vivianite hit Hong Jiu there a few more times, Hong Jiu’s heart meridians would be damaged, which would spell death. Unfortunately, Vivianite’s strike didn’t loosen Hong Jiu’s grip in the slightest.

Vivianite gradually started to feel lightheaded, but he kept trying to think, leading him to the image of Hong Jiu using Dragon Claw.

Vivianite: Wait, don’t tell me this hold is…

Even if Hong Jiu couldn’t master a technique he saw for the first time, there was the fact that Shaolin and Mount Daluo were allies. It wouldn’t be strange for disciples of either sect to exchange pointers with each other. Assuming Hong Jiu’s Dragon Claw was “good enough”, Vivianite was going to have a hard time breaking free.

Vivianite struck the same point with his hand again for he knew there was no time to lose. However, as he found his target, he suddenly felt impact on his skull and his vision distort. Once he recovered, he realised that Hong Jiu’s hand found his face at the same moment he found Hong Jiu’s quze accupoint.

They were too close for the masked man to dodge. Hong Jiu didn’t care what results he produced with his hammering. Regardless of what was in front of him, what his opponent hit him with, what came after or what risks existed, Hong Jiu just kept pounding away with his palm.

Maybe he was weakening, but Vivianite’s arm grew number and number after each consecutive attack he blocked. Vivianite hit Hong Jiu in different spots to try stopping the onslaught, but none of it deterred Hong Jiu from continuing to batter the same spot over and over again.

Vivianite finally realised the gravity of his predicament. He couldn’t break Hong Jiu’s control, and he couldn’t stop the crude attacks. In a contest of finesse, Vivianite won by a large margin. In those close quarters, though, none of it could save him. All the sophistication and all his cleverness couldn’t do anything to reduce the simple, arguably laughable, problem. Eventually, the sound of muscle and bones against an iron mask could be heard. Vivianite resorted to joint locking, kicking, punching and even ocular techniques to no avail. As a matter of fact, the smack to his face caused him to cast his ocular technique on himself, resulting in himself becoming sluggish.

Ocular techniques were a manifestation of one’s determination. In other words, Vivianite’s determination was weaker than that of a man hanging on by a thread.

Vivianite’s strikes were effective – evident from Hong Jiu’s injuries worsening. Nevertheless, they were meaningless unless they could completely shut down Hong Jiu.

Hong Jiu didn’t change techniques, angles or tempos. Even after breaking down Vivianite’s defence, he just kept hammering at the same spot. Even once Vivianite’s mask shattered, he’d keep going at the same spot. When he couldn’t support Vivianite’s weight anymore, he mounted Vivianite to continue pounding away on the ground.

“Spare me… Spare me!” Underneath Vivianite’s mask, it had become a pool of blood, yet Hong Jiu didn’t cease. “Spare me! I, I’ll tell you what Jiang Chen wants me to do. Spare m-”

Bang!

“I’ll tell you League of Assassins’ secr-”

Bang!

“Spare… me…”

Bang!

Cries became mutters. Mutters became murmurs. Murmurs became silence.

Strikes became taps. Taps became touches. Touches became desperate swings moving inches. Swings that travelled inches became motionless limbs.

Hong Jiu, taking shallow breaths as he towered over his foe lying in his own blood, raised his hand one more time. “If you’re afraid of death… don’t chase a career in the pugilistic world.”

Leader, I’m going to kill him… Once I kill him…

Hong Jiu suffered a moment of vertigo as he blanked out.

Oh, that feels good.

A cold sensation enveloped Hong Jiu. He slowly felt relief from all the burning sensations from his wounds. Next, he felt two small, soft and icy hands on his raised hand.

“He won’t… harm your senior brother anymore. You’ve won. He’s not worth it. Don’t kill him, okay?”

He could see the worry and fear in her eyes if he couldn’t feel the shaking in her hands. He relaxed his clamp to gently touch the maiden’s cheek. “… Don’t worry. I’ll stop killing.”

A heavy weight fell into the maiden’s arms.

The last thing he faintly recalled seeing was the maiden’s happy nod.