Chapter 57: The Art of the Grand Fireball

Within Dragon City, an abundance of mission resources awaited. From past life experience, Han Feng knew that the main quest, "The Crimson Secret War," was the easiest to become involved with here. To attain a high quest rating, one had to continuously complete various side missions and play a pivotal role in them.

There were many ways to participate: one could join the official factions, the family clans, the financial conglomerates, or get involved through organizations like the Hunters’ Guild, the Assassins’ Guild, or the Mercenary Guild. Aligning with the official or family factions had its benefits, but also imposed many restrictions. Han Feng preferred the freedom of taking commissions through the Hunters’ Guild.

“Captain, are you sure we’re going the right way? It feels like we’re getting further and further off track,” Tifa suddenly voiced her concern as they walked.

The spaceship port was about forty kilometers from Dragon City. Normally, people would take a vehicle, but Han Feng and his group traveled on foot, not along the main road, but away from it, across a stretch of open wasteland—hardly the direction one would take to reach Dragon City.

“Of course it’s not the right way. I’m leading us here on purpose,” Han Feng replied, halting his steps. He turned and called out to the seemingly empty landscape behind them, “Come out, friend! You’ve been following us for quite some time. If you have something to say, show yourself.”

Tifa, startled, glanced warily behind them. All she saw were seven or eight sparse trees; she sensed no presence whatsoever.

“Heh, impressive perception. You actually discovered me.” A tall, unshaven man emerged from behind the trees. His black hair was wild and unruly, and he wore a gray short-sleeved t-shirt, black trousers, and a pair of well-worn leather boots—secondhand, freshly bought.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Qin Zong,” the man said, scratching his messy head. “As for who I am, well, we’ll fight first, and I’ll tell you after.”

“Why should we fight you? Will you pay us when it’s over?” Han Feng refused, disinterested in a fight with no benefit.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Qin Zong shot back. Without another word, his figure vanished from their sight.

Han Feng’s eyes widened—he couldn’t see him at all. He extended his senses, covering a ten-meter radius around his body.

“There!” Han Feng suddenly sensed the trajectory. He twisted his waist and upper body to the side, just as a fist grazed past his nose, the force of the blow slicing painfully across his face.

Before he could recover, a whip-like kick from Qin Zong was already incoming.

Han Feng raised his right arm to block the blow.

Bang!

A tremendous force smashed into Han Feng’s arm, sending him flying. Several trees in his path splintered in half as he crashed through them.

If not for his physical attributes exceeding three thousand points—his body tough and resilient—this single kick might have shattered his arm.

“Well, well—not bad. You dodged my punch and blocked my kick,” Qin Zong laughed, standing easily in place.

“B-rank martial artist!” Han Feng muttered as he rubbed his aching arm and got to his feet.

“Good eye! Though you still need more practice. Hey, I’m talking here—” Qin Zong started, then suddenly raised his arm to block a powerful, slender leg. Tifa had leapt at him from behind, her leg arcing toward his head.

Thwarted, Tifa switched tactics midair. She twisted, channeling spirit energy into her arms and legs, and unleashed a rapid triple spinning kick mid-leap. Her legs moved like the wind. Landing, her fists blazed with fiery energy, enhanced by explosive gauntlets, and she hammered both fists at Qin Zong.

Qin Zong’s arm became a blur, effortlessly deflecting every strike.

While Tifa attacked, Han Feng joined in, his longsword weaving a flurry of sword flowers. Qin Zong merely blocked and dodged, never counterattacking.

“You two should show some real skill. Facing a much stronger opponent without going all out is asking for death,” Qin Zong said lightly, dodging with ease, even finding time to talk.

Han Feng sensed no killing intent from Qin Zong, unsure of his motives, and so fought conservatively. But hearing Qin Zong’s words, he hesitated no longer and unleashed his full strength.

In truth, Han Feng had already recognized Qin Zong—from his past life in the game, they had crossed paths many times. He didn’t know Qin Zong’s purpose here, but he knew well the man’s strength. Neither he nor Tifa could hope to defeat him; it would be like striking stone with an egg.

But with Qin Zong clearly holding back, Han Feng resolved to perform well—perhaps even catch him off guard.

Han Feng and Tifa attacked with all their might, but Qin Zong remained at ease. “Put some strength into it! Haven’t you eaten?”

Tifa activated her “Second Secret Technique Release,” boosting her attack power and speed by fifty percent at the cost of ten percent stamina and spirit energy per minute.

Her legs became blurs, each strike heavier than before.

“Now that’s more like it,” Qin Zong commented.

“Overdrive!” Tifa struck at him with three rapid punches, then her figure flickered six times, attacking from six different directions.

Logically, those first three punches should have staggered an enemy, but the gap in strength was too great—Qin Zong simply resisted the effect.

“Nine-Headed Dragon Flash!” Han Feng unleashed his sword art, nine arcs of sword light slicing toward Qin Zong from all directions.

Their teamwork was seamless; their skills appeared to come at him from fifteen different angles at once.

But it was only an illusion—their attacks followed in sequence, their speed so great it deceived the eye.

Qin Zong keenly detected fifteen different attack angles, his form weaving and flickering as he dodged eight strikes in a flash.

Just as he moved to evade the rest, a thin streak of golden lightning struck him. His body numbed, his movements slowed, and the remaining punch, kick, and five sword strikes landed squarely on him.

The electric attack paralyzed him for 0.4 seconds. In that brief window, he took seven blows. Though his spirit energy shield kept him unhurt, he lost control of his body.

“Ultimate Skill—Dolphin Cyclone!” In her unleashed state, Tifa executed her finishing move.

She spun through the air, sweeping Qin Zong up with a leg, then followed with a spinning back kick. Supporting herself on one hand, she delivered a reverse scorpion kick. Qin Zong remained airborne, unable to descend, as Tifa leapt up, her inverted form a whirlwind of kicks striking a dozen times. Landing, she finished with a powerful rising dragon punch, energy blazing, sending Qin Zong skyward once more.

“Fire Style: Great Fireball!” Of course, this was no ninjutsu—just Han Feng’s playful habit of shouting technique names, as if it might amplify the power. A massive black fireball crashed into Qin Zong.

Boom!

Black flames engulfed him completely.