Chapter Seventy-Four: The Alpha Shinobi Assassins (Conclusion)

Using the dim light, Kou Li could barely make out a figure. The figure held a gun in hand, slowly rising from the ground.

“With trash like you, do you really think you can sabotage my foster father’s grand plan?” the figure sneered with contempt.

“The foster sons of Zhu Baozi’s gang, huh,” Kou Li retorted coldly, “You work for free as someone’s son—might as well be my grandson.”

“Courting death!”

Infuriated, the figure spun the thick end of the gun, shoulder rotating outward, abdomen snapping with force, stepping into a horse stance. As the tip of the gun pressed down and sprang forward with the step, it carved a half-circle, blocking and thrusting like a venomous dragon emerging from its lair, aiming straight for Kou Li’s eyes.

This move, called the Stepping Intercept and Level Thrust, originated from the spear techniques of the Northern Camp of the imperial forces, designed specifically to counter the barbarian horsemen from the north. Zhu Baozi had once captured a Northern Camp soldier during a naval battle and had tortured the secret techniques out of him.

As the spear stabbed forward, its tip seemed alive; a novice, distracted by the tip, would meet their end without knowing how. Fortunately, Kou Li, whose martial arts had reached mastery, could discern the weapon’s position by sound alone, his pores relaxing and tightening as he moved. He twisted his upper body in a tiger-like motion, avoiding the spear while his “tiger claw” turned black, sinews erupting, and grabbed the middle of the spear shaft.

But the opponent, locked in a horse stance, manipulated the spear with alternating grips, the shaft spinning like a drill, hissing as it turned. Kou Li’s tiger-claw grip failed to hold; instead, his arm was swept aside, and the spear bent, crashing into his chest.

This technique, called the Python’s Turn, used a wrenching and twisting force to break free—a strength unique to the spear compared to polearms and halberds. The earliest fist techniques evolved from spear maneuvers: grasp, thrust, jab, collapse, pick, chop, smash, shake, coil, and point—all derived from the spear.

The “Manual of Fists” recorded that the spear is the ancestor of fist techniques; but here, it referred to the battlefield spear, not the decorative ones.

Kou Li saw there was nowhere left to dodge. He stood his ground, immediately employing his Qi Consolidation technique—his throat made a gulping sound as if swallowing an egg, his chest and abdomen bulged, iron-black. When the spear struck, it was as if it had landed in a thick cotton blanket, sinking deeper and deeper, all its force absorbed.

Impossible! This Python’s Turn is a killing move from the secret snake-spear techniques passed among the imperial troops. If it landed solidly, even heavily armored cavalry weighing two or three hundred pounds would be knocked from their horses in one blow. How could his opponent remain unmoved?

He could not know that Kou Li, having mastered the Child’s Stance and Qi Consolidation, had force flowing throughout his body. Combined with the “Blade Sheathed” technique, which drew power inward, he now sat like a tiger on the mountain, reigning as king.

Drawing in power was just the preliminary stage of the Cotton Palm technique—the next stage was releasing force. The absorbed spear energy rolled through his core, transferred from the fetal origin to the life gate, circled around his back, and rebounded with doubled speed. With a loud crack, the spear bent nearly in a circle, the figure’s face changed dramatically as he hurriedly stepped around, turning the spear to dissipate the force layer by layer.

Kou Li spotted an opening and was about to unleash his killing move when suddenly his vision blurred, sweat pouring from his brow. After defeating Diao Fengsheng and knocking Huo Jundong into the sea, his stamina was utterly spent.

“I hadn’t planned to use this, but it seems I have no choice,” Kou Li muttered, fishing out a small red pill—the Leopard Fetus Pill he’d obtained earlier on the gambling ship.

On that night in the naval camp, Kou Li hadn’t handed all the Leopard Fetus Pills to the Shadow, but had kept a few for exactly such dire emergencies.

Now was the time.

He flicked his nail, sending half the pill into his mouth. According to his previous experiments, half a pill’s potency was enough to keep his mind clear.

The medicine entered his stomach; at first, nothing, but as it dissolved, a surge of heat flooded his organs and limbs.

It felt as though every tendon, bone, and muscle inflated, a pungent heat shooting to his head, his mind filled with the roar: kill, kill, kill, kill.

The sensation was like a tiger’s nature entering the brain, but even more intense, nearly instinctual.

Yet immediately, his mind echoed with a roar transcending any beast—a concentrated, unleashed vitality that instantly broke free of any murderous urge.

Kou Li understood: with the essence of the Dragon Form and the changes it brought, he could control the killing intent even if he took the whole pill.

Aside from me, no other gods exist—this was not just a martial realm, but a spiritual revelation. Immortals possess their own realms, and those who knock on the gates of immortality must have the resolve and bearing to match.

That bearing began to suffuse his body and mind.

“How can you—” the man exclaimed in shock, for Kou Li’s appearance was now terrifying: eyes bloodshot, body swelling, sinews knotted, murderous intent boiling, just like those soldiers who drank that deadly wine.

“Was it your poison?”

Kou Li’s eyes narrowed, lips curling as he murmured, “So, there was still someone who slipped through the net.”

The murderous intent could no longer be concealed. With a single step, his blood surging, Kou Li covered thirty feet, blood wind hissing from his pores, claw descending, man and tiger as one, his tiger palm slashing at the man’s head, an overwhelming bestial pressure suffocating all.

The man fought terror, twisting the gun’s tail, shrinking and extending the shaft, the seven-foot spear instantly transforming into a three-foot short weapon, and hurled it upward with explosive force.

The throw was so fast the naked eye couldn’t follow.

“Good spear!”

Kou Li’s claw tore and pulled, a violent wind bursting from his palm. The spear tip shot between his fingers, an uncanny coincidence. Even if one could see, in this darkness it was impossible to follow. This move, “Hidden Spear Between Fingers,” was pure beast instinct, a natural human reaction.

A crunch—

The man’s heart sank, unable to react before two more crunches sounded, and agony flared in his right shoulder, as if several knives had sliced it, pain quickly giving way to numbness.

Most of the spear had been torn into three pieces—the finest, toughest rosewood shaft!

Such was the power of perfected fist technique and explosive energy!

Zhu Baozi’s foster sons varied in ability, but none were cowards. Gritting his teeth, the man launched a deadly “Three-Pronged Palm” at Kou Li’s eyes—a fight to the death.

But suddenly the floor shook with a boom, dizziness overtook him, and he was lifted forcibly; his feet left the ground, his stance collapsed. He was slammed with crushing force onto the floor, splintering the boards, his muscles and flesh shattered. Darkness clouded his vision as Kou Li gripped his head, pressing blades against his temples. Any movement, and his skull would be crushed.

He was like a mortal pinned by lion or tiger, neck bared for slaughter, with no hope of escape.

“Mastered fist technique, the stamina of an internal arts expert—very good, you are ruthless. But remember, my name is Lu Sanbao, my foster father is Zhang Baozi. You’ll die a thousand times more miserably than me, and I’ll kill your whole family!” the man spat with venom.

“Oh? You’re called Lu Sanbao? What’s your relation to Lu Tiansheng?”

Now, with the enemy subdued, Kou Li could finally see his face—a hideous man with a face elongated like a bream, eyes bulging.

Lu Sanbao shuddered, his heart skipping a beat.

“So, you really are his son. Excellent, excellent,” Kou Li’s blood-red eyes glowed in the gloom, “Your son offended me, you want to kill my family—I’ll grant your wish. I’ll kill you, then go to Chejiagou and kill your son, root out your family, wipe you from the earth!”

“You’re ruthless—”

The man’s words ended abruptly, cut off by the crack of his neck, eyes bulging in death.

Kou Li’s crimson gaze shifted slightly. Suddenly his back tensed; twisting his bones, hips, and legs, he pounced like a tiger just as a gunshot rang out behind him. At the same time, he kicked a firepot from the floor, the fire striker landing precisely in the mouth of the pot as it hit the keel.

Then came a blast as loud as cannon fire!