Chapter 124: Journey to Tiger Mountain

Chapter 124: March on Tiger Mountain

Whoosh!

Two avian scouts burst from the rain clouds, tangled in a rolling descent, their shrieks startling the void and halting the clouds.

Razor-sharp mechanical claws and steel-forged wings clashed ceaselessly; in their identical crimson eyes burned nothing but cold killing intent.

Skritch!

This drawn-out struggle finally seemed to yield a victor; the falcon's blade-like wing edge sheared across the night owl's chest, cleaving the outer layer of bionic tissue, shattered electronics spewing blue electric arcs.

The night owl, its blood-eyes dimming, craned its neck in a long scream; talons suddenly shot out, clamping onto the wings of the falcon trying to wrench free, the gun barrel within its beak jamming directly against the foe's crown.

Orange-red muzzle flash bloomed; the searing bullet pulverized the falcon's skull instantly.

Mangled avian corpses tangled together, plummeting earthward in unison, grazing the edge of an eave in their descent.

Atop the eave, a figure crouched motionless, resembling a ridge-beast, suddenly shot out a hand, snatching the two avian corpses.

Neural filaments fine as hair unfurled like spirit serpents, piercing precisely into the chips of the two avian scouts who had perished together.

Hum!

The mech-eyes on the avian corpses, long extinguished, suddenly flared to life again, blinking rapidly, like the timer on a time bomb.

The invaded chips automatically initiated self-destruct protocols.

Pity that in the eyes of this armored iron hand's master, such defenses were utterly non-existent.

The cracking difficulty was god knows how many times simpler than picking up a female artifact spirit on the Huangliang Divine Artifact Forum.

“A city-wide dragnet, the whole world against him. Li Jun, you son of a bitch really know how to stir up shit.”

Reading the decoded data in the chip, even Master Ma, who always swore by ‘life and death are fate, wealth and honor are heaven’s will,’ couldn't help but curse.

But the next moment, a faint chuckle seeped from the red eyes within the helm.

“Hahahaha.”

The laughter swelled, rising finally into a hearty, unrestrained howl of pure satisfaction.

“This is the Martial Dao Sequence! This is the Muddy Water Paoge who avenges every slight! This is the flesh-and-blood martialist who nurses a furious flood dragon in his heart!”

Behind him, another ‘ridge-beast’ trembled violently, seemingly excited to the breaking point.

“Old Ma, then let’s not just sit here watching. Let’s go lend a hand!”

The howl cut short. Master Ma said helplessly, “Li Jun’s situation is total encirclement now. We’re merely Mo Rank Eights; joining the fray would just be adding a side dish for the others.”

Zhao Qingxia’s face flushed with fervor. “Fear what? At worst, a man dies and the birds turn to the sky. A brother’s in trouble—how can we stand by?”

Brother, I’ll brother your damn head!

Light swirled in the red eyes, as if rolling them in exasperation.

Master Ma’s guts were turning green with regret, ruing his loose tongue back in Mianzhou County.

Any other pretext would have been better, but he just had to swear brotherhood with this brainless ball Zhao Qingxia.

Now look—this hothead’s clearly lost his head; there’s no stopping him.

“Zhao Qingxia, do you grasp the situation? Can that skinny arm of yours twist those thighs?”

“Twist or not, I’ll twist. Even if they break my arm, I’ll stab them to death with the bone shards!”

Zhao Qingxia braced his hands on his knees, straightening in the rain-laden night wind.

Beneath jet-black, heavy brows, substantive light seemed to lance from his pupils.

“That look again… what a sin. Why can none of you shake that nature from your bones?”

Master Ma remembered clearly—back then, many Mohist disciples with that look had rushed forth, one after another, for some dogshit righteousness, to die alongside those brainless martial artists.

Even he.

Zhao Qingxia straightened, dipped his head, and grinned. “Old Ma, if you’re scared, just say so. I won’t blame you. But from now on, before me, you’re only fit to be called Little Ma.”

Master Ma roared, “Don’t pull this crap on me! I was running provocation tactics when you were still in open-crotch pants!”

“Even if—”

“What bullshit are you spouting!”

Before Master Ma’s words fell, Zhao Qingxia laughed aloud and vaulted from the eave.

Simultaneously, another ‘ridge-beast’ rose on the eave, shrouded in a heavy black robe, stepping soundlessly.

“Zhao Qingxia’s having a fit, and you want in on the fun too?!”

Master Ma’s voice turned cold. “Your body is still fragile. Following them is suicide!”

“Master Ma… I’ve died many times. What’s one more?”

A childish, soft voice drifted from the black robe.

“Your past deaths were mere illusions in the Huangliang Buddha Kingdom. But now you are a ‘Ming Ghost’—a unique consciousness, a living, breathing ‘person’!”

Master Ma’s tone was dead serious. “Die now, and you’re truly dead.”

“Master Ma, I know all that.”

The hood was pulled low, as if unable to face the one before him.

“But without Brother, I’d still be a ‘Huangliang Mainframe’ controlled by others, living a life worse than death, not knowing if I was human or thing.”

The hood slowly lifted. Brilliant blue light blazed from a vertical eye embedded in the helmet’s brow.

“You guided me to ‘Ming Ghost,’ gave me new life. But this time… let me decide.”

The black robe fluttered, plummeting into the night.

Atop the eave, only a pitch-black exoskeleton armor remained, frozen in place.

“How are they all so stubbornly set on death? No telling who they learned it from.”

Master Ma heaved a long sigh, helm tilting up as if gazing at the magnificent city shrouded in dark clouds.

Dark clouds press the city; the road coils a vicious tiger.

“Since it’s so, then onward to Tiger Mountain—part the clouds and see the light!”

A black fist clenched, swinging hard at the firmament. “I’d like to see who dares touch Master Ma’s kid!”

Chicken Goose District, Nine Dragons Street.

Dense rain crashed into rising heat, striking the boiling crimson broth, vanishing instantly without a trace.

Kuang Qingyun sat grandly in the street’s center, still wolfing down food, draining massive bowls of wine.

A Muddy Water Paoge with a Yazi tattooed on his neck sprinted into the rain, bowing with clasped fists at his side.

“Helmsman, all brothers with living kin or sole heirs have been settled in other counties. The funds left suffice for life.”

“Well done.”

Kuang Qingyun seized the cup, drained it, exhaled in satisfaction, then set down his chopsticks, scanning the eaves.

“Didn’t I say? Besides those who must leave, the rest are free to come and go as they please.”

"You did say that," the Paoge man scratched his head and grinned, "but we're kinless, motherless, with nary a friend or relation to our name. Born on this street, raised on this street—you tell us to leave, and we haven't a soul to turn to, nor a place to go."

Beneath the eaves just behind him, a dense thicket of figures stood shoulder to shoulder.

These muddle-along Paoge brothers didn't flinch an inch under their helmsman's furious glare; instead, they wore grins of brazen delight.

As if preening over their own audacity.