Chapter 110: The Foul Miasma

"Instructor!"

After clearly seeing everything inside the room, Song Zhong’s expression changed drastically. Without hesitation, he rushed inside.

Quick as lightning, I grabbed Song Zhong’s arm.

"What are you doing?"

I forcefully pulled him behind me, my face darkening.

I took off my coat and casually tossed it aside, then stepped forward without looking back and said to Song Zhong, "You're no match for him. Find the right moment and save your brother."

I didn’t give Song Zhong a chance to respond. By now, I had already reached the man standing before me.

The man was slender, with hair covering his right eye, while the exposed eye stared at me like a venomous snake. A mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

What drew the most attention was the black nail embedded in his left eyebrow.

I twisted my neck and clenched my fists. "No wonder your Golden Cicada Sect has never been taken seriously—they only know how to use tricks like this."

"You’re younger than I expected," he said, ignoring my question and shaking his head. "What a pity. You’re talented and promising, but soon you’ll die right here."

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t look much older than me, yet his tone was mature beyond his years.

"Killing is illegal, but if you think you can take me down, then come and try."

With a faint smile, I beckoned him with my hand. The man grinned and drew two short knives from his lower back.

The blades gleamed coldly, moving like shadows, alternating in swift attack.

Though fast, his speed wasn’t enough to catch me off guard.

I bent my knees and dodged the blades, sweeping my leg at his calves.

*Thud!*

A muffled sound rang out. My kick failed to faze him at all.

"Heh, is that all the strength you’ve got?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

I knew my own strength well—I had practiced Bajiquan since childhood, forced by my grandfather to punch and kick with weights. I wouldn’t claim to be invincible, but even those with a solid foundation wouldn’t dare take my strikes lightly.

"Here I come!"

The tip of his knife stabbed toward my brow.

I tried to evade, only to find the other blade aimed at my chest.

A simultaneous double strike, executed without any wasted movement.

In desperation, I made a move I hadn’t even anticipated myself.

With no room to retreat, I spread my arms, tilted my head to one side, grabbed him from behind, and bit down hard on his shoulder.

He was caught off guard by my bite. He changed his attack, ramming his shoulder into my face and sending me flying backward.

Suddenly, darkness clouded my vision. I staggered back several steps before regaining my balance.

I shook my head and chuckled softly.

Feeling the lingering pain on my cheek, I realized I had gained an advantage.

Grandfather had taught me that when faced with danger and no means of escape, one must use the smallest sacrifice to inflict the greatest damage.

Clearly, I had succeeded.

I glanced around and spotted a steel pipe in the corner behind me.

Slowly, I retreated toward it, eyes never leaving him. I bent down, picked up the pipe, and weighed it in my hands. The weight was just right.

I beckoned him with a wave. "Come on…"

It seemed failing to finish me off in one strike was a great humiliation for him.

The mocking expression vanished from his face.

"I’m going to take your life…"

He hurled the short knife in his left hand straight at me. I stepped back with my left foot and, gripping the pipe with both hands, knocked the blade aside.

At the same moment, he charged to my front, wielding the other knife aimed at my face.

In this critical moment, I suddenly grinned.

"Phh!"

He never dreamed I would spit in his face now.

In the blink of an eye, I used the pipe to deflect his knife and stabbed hard into his ribs!

*Crack.*

The man staggered back, clutching his chest, his face pale as he glared at me.

I shrugged and said, "Sorry, I might have used a bit too much strength. How many ribs did I break?"

I didn’t expect an answer. As soon as the words left my mouth, I swung the pipe toward his head.

I had to admit, this man was formidable—despite broken ribs, he caught the pipe with one hand accurately.

I thought he would strike back with his blade, but instead, he looked at me with a twisted smile and spat out a foul, yellowish mist!

A filthy, noxious gas!

Once inhaled, this vile mist would seal the seven orifices and seize control of the six spirits!

I quickly covered my nose, but still, some of the toxic gas seeped in!

[End of Chapter 110: The Noxious Mist]