Chapter 26: The Mohist School

Chapter 26: The Mohists

As the murderous qi vented from his heart, the crimson in Li Jun's eyes dissipated, his gaze returning to its usual icy coldness. "So what if he's dead?"

"Dead men tell no tales, but it's a bit of a hassle. This brat is from the Mohists' Heavenly Will Association. The lot of them haven't much skill to speak of, they just love protecting their own. Killing him does you no good."

The red light flickered uncertainly, like the pupils of a living man.

Li Jun raised a hand to brush his eyebrow, grinning to reveal a mouthful of blood-stained, gleaming white teeth. "Threatening me?"

"No, no, no, absolutely not. Lord Ma here... no, Brother here just feels it's not worth it for you."

"I've heard all about your business in the murky waters of the Paoge. Getting yourself into a mess helping these people—it's a genuinely bad bargain."

This artifact spirit named Lord Ma was every bit as slippery as a stall owner on Ghost Street; his tone was supremely sincere, looking for all the world like he was baring his heart and liver for Li Jun's sake.

Li Jun fell silent for a moment, glanced at the injector extended before him, and asked, "Then what does this mean?"

"Eighth-grade fist art—Baji Quan. A real gem for brawling and killing. Zhao Qingxia's ransom money."

A flicker of shock crossed the depths of Li Jun's eyes. Zhao Qingxia wasn't even of the Martial Dao Sequence, yet he possessed an eighth-grade martial art?!

No wonder Li Jun was so surprised. Even though Chengdu Prefecture possessed the largest underground black market in the entire Empire's Southwest, eighth-grade and above martial art injectors circulating on the market were still rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns.

The reasons were twofold. On one hand, injectors of this grade were incredibly hard to obtain.

Ever since the martial sects withered, martial art injectors had basically fallen into the hands of the Ministry of War.

Injectors of ninth grade and above were all exclusive supplies for generals; the destination of every single unit was registered and recorded by the Ministry of War. The quantity leaking into the civilian world was pitifully small.

On the other hand, only followers of the Martial Dao Sequence could inject eighth-grade arts, and followers of the Martial Dao Sequence were far too few.

Supply was difficult, demand was low; lacking the drive of profit, the market naturally lacked vitality.

So up to now, Li Jun had only injected a single eighth-grade internal art, and that had been obtained from Kuang Qingyun.

That Paoge Second Master probably also thought the thing's use was too narrow, that he couldn't sell it for a good price, so he gave it to Li Jun as a favor.

The metal tendrils shook with even greater eagerness, like a wagging dog's tail.

"I watched the fight from start to finish just now. Brother, from beginning to end you used your hand as a saber, employing the Ninth-grade Single Saber Art. But when you switched to fists, you had no stance or forms; you must be missing a fist art, right?"

"With this Baji Quan, your close-quarters killing power will skyrocket. Facing a hothead like Zhao Qingxia again, you could take him down in three punches and two kicks."

Lord Ma spoke with genuine sincerity; logically and emotionally, Li Jun seemed to have no reason to refuse, yet the next moment he shook his head with abnormal decisiveness.

Because if he beat Zhao Qingxia to death, he would gain at least hundreds of Proficiency points.

Enough to push the *Azure Emperor Canon* to the late stage; the yield was no less than an eighth-grade martial art.

"Not enough."

Not that he couldn't, but it wasn't enough.

Lord Ma keenly caught the implication in Li Jun's words. After a moment of silence, he said, "Then I'll add another. Eighth-grade body tempering, the Golden Bell Shield!"

This kid is still a fat sheep!

Zhao Qingxia could actually produce two eighth-grade martial arts; this set Li Jun's heart ablaze.

Seeing the fervor ignite in Li Jun's eyes, Lord Ma hurriedly said, "This time it's really gone. Zhao Qingxia is just a Grade Nine Mohist Mechanic. The only reason he has these two eighth-grade injectors is his obsession with martial arts."

"Even if you beat him to death, I couldn't produce anything else. Brother, trust me."

Li Jun watched the red lights blinking until they nearly merged into a solid line, understanding that nothing more could be squeezed from Zhao Qingxia.

Seeing the other party reach out to take the five Six Arts Chips and the two injectors, one yellow and one black, a sound of immense relief hissed from the exoskeleton armor.

After stowing the items, Li Jun looked toward the exoskeleton mecha slowly "sitting up."

"Damn it all, nearly got Lord Ma taken apart. No wonder the Three Teachings suppress you lot."

Lord Ma muttered grumpily, but discovering Li Jun staring at him with naked curiosity, his movements froze.

"Are you truly an artifact spirit? Not a bionic program or something else?"

Li Jun was filled with curiosity toward this "Lord Ma" who was indistinguishable from a real person.

"Brother, do we really have to discuss this here? The Shu Road Logistics people will be here soon."

Li Jun sat cross-legged, calm. "Two minutes shy of five minutes. Your 'soon' still leaves time to run."

"Fine." Lord Ma sighed.

With his words, the exoskeleton mecha shrugged its shoulders, carrying the unconscious Zhao Qingxia along, looking exactly like a man sighing.

"Have you ever heard the words 'Ming Gui'?"

"You have one minute fifty seconds left."

"This concept is crucial; I must start here to explain it thoroughly."

"One minute forty-five seconds."

The red light blazed steadily, unblinking, like glaring eyes.

"One minute forty seconds."

"Fine, I admit it. I don't really agree with the Mohist 'all things have spirits, gods above your head' nonsense. But when a Mohist Sequence follower breaks their lock and advances, the mechanical body they personally forge will spawn an autonomous consciousness."

Li Jun sneered at this abstruse explanation.

Nothing is born from nothing. What you think is creation ex nihilo is merely you not knowing the cause.

At this moment, Li Jun suddenly recalled his own advancement to Martial Nine. That sudden eruption of vast rage had made him feel like a different person in that instant.

Thinking of this, Li Jun couldn't help but suspect: "Are you this brat's second personality?"

"I'm him? Then Lord Ma's illustrious reputation in the Mohist Artifact Spirit Circle and the Yellow Millet Dream Artifact Forum would be ruined!"

Lord Ma's voice suddenly pitched high, furious at Li Jun's judgment.

"Divine Artifact?" Li Jun's eyes were suspicious, scanning him up and down.

"I grow. Later, when Zhao Qingxia advances to a higher Sequence, I'll rise with the tide."

Li Jun twitched the corner of his mouth, not dwelling on the issue, switching questions: "Why did Zhao Qingxia rob Shu Road Logistics?"

Lord Ma shouted at the top of his lungs: "Buddy, still asking? Really no time left."

"You don't speak, you die too."

The unconscious Zhao Qingxia was made to spread his hands. "Broke. R&D types have pockets cleaner than their faces. No money, so you rob the rich. Who told the Confucians to be rich and love being ungenerous?"

Li Jun frowned skeptically. "Just that simple?"

"Truly that simple. If there were a real plan, Zhao Qingxia wouldn't have impulsively engaged you in a pure brawl on a whim. That's just delaying things."

This artifact spirit spoke nine parts false, one part true.

Li Jun rapidly made a judgment in his mind.

But one thing Li Jun was certain of: the Embroidered Uniform Guard choosing to move against the Gu Clan of Yizhou at this moment probably wasn't just because of Daoist backing; it was inseparable from the Mohists too.

This contraband trade was likely just an insignificant thread on a massive spiderweb.

Whatever role the Mohists played in it, killing Zhao Qingxia would bring endless trouble.

With the reserved escape time dwindling, seeing Li Jun make no move to stop him, Lord Ma rose with Zhao Qingxia and bowed to Li Jun with a traditional martial arts fist-and-palm salute.

“Brother, the green mountains remain, the green waters flow; we’ll meet again in the rivers and lakes.”

With that, he leapt into the air, turning into a black speck that swiftly vanished into the impenetrable maze of towers on Nine Dragons Street.

Atop the ravaged rooftop, Li Jun rose slowly, clutching the horrific wound in his abdomen, fumbling in his trouser pocket for an age.

Suddenly his features relaxed; he fished out an intact holo-phone and placed the call.

“Call off the move. I’m not dead yet.”

On the other end of the screen, Wu Yahua scrambled to hide packed suitcases, while in the corner Wu Duoduo remained utterly absorbed in her forbidden tome—

save that the book appeared to be upside down.