Chapter 125: The Madness of Linghu Chong
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“Senior Brother, how are things on your end?”
“The mission was completed perfectly.”
“Those peasant scum willingly handed over their grain?”
“Of course not. But after we killed a few troublemakers in front of the entire village, they obediently surrendered it. If they refused, they had no choice!”
“Senior Brother, what ruthless methods!”
“However ruthless my methods may be, they are nothing compared with yours, Junior Brother. Were those twenty women locked in the woodshed brought in by you?”
“Ah, those? The village I was assigned to had a poor harvest this year. Even if I killed several households and seized all their grain, I still wouldn’t have fulfilled the quota. Fortunately, that village produces quite a few beauties, so I simply captured twenty women to make up the difference. Once the brothers have tired of them, we can sell them to the brothels and make up the shortfall. By the way, Senior Brother, what did you think of those women?”
“Hahahaha! They were delightful. Once I’ve had my turn with all of them, I’ll sell them to a brothel. They’re good in every other respect, though they are a little dark-skinned and thin.”
“Peasant women are used to rough labor. They aren’t the daughters of gentry families—how could they have fair, delicate skin? I hear there’s a wealthy household in the manor we’re visiting tomorrow, and the women there are supposed to be fair and tender. Senior Brother, find a way to get your hands on one.”
“What’s there to figure out? We’ll simply take her by force!”
“Senior Brother is wise indeed… Heh heh. We’ll eat our fill first, then go to the woodshed…”
“Heh heh.”
Outside the window, Linghu Chong nearly exploded with rage upon hearing their conversation. Forcefully suppressing the anger erupting within him like a volcano, he maintained a clear mind through sheer willpower, then silently made his way toward the woodshed to verify whether the Buddhist disciples’ words were true.
When Linghu Chong slipped into the woodshed and saw the ravaged peasant women, the fury in his heart erupted completely. The reason he had fought so hard to preserve was burned away by his rage. Drawing his long sword, he took a single stride and charged straight toward the guest quarters.
With one kick, he sent the door flying open. A flash of sword light appeared, thrusting directly at the enemy’s throat. There was only killing intent in the attack—no thought of defense.
One step, one death; traveling a thousand miles without leaving a trace.
Linghu Chong pushed Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing to its absolute limit. His body became a gust of fierce wind, his sword a bolt of lightning. After killing the two men inside the room, he rushed toward the others.
“Who dares launch a sneak attack on our Shaolin disciples?” Linghu Chong’s slaughter finally alerted the Shaolin monks.
But even after the Shaolin disciples realized what was happening, no one in those cramped rooms could withstand a single exchange with Linghu Chong. By the time he had killed more than a dozen men, the survivors burst through the doors and leaped outside. Then they set fire to the doors, forcing Linghu Chong out.
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Linghu Chong had only one thought in his mind: kill, kill, kill. Only the blood of the Shaolin monks could extinguish the rage burning within him.
Once again, he used Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing to ambush the group. His long sword trembled in his hand, and seven blossoms of sword light appeared—followed immediately by seven blossoms of blood. Seven Shaolin monks clutched their throats, choking and coughing as they collapsed.
“The enemy is tough! Everyone, attack together!”
The Shaolin disciples surged forward.
“Arrow-Breaking Stance!”
Linghu Chong’s wrist moved with blinding speed. His sword seemed to possess eyes of its own, piercing the throats of the attackers with perfect precision.
In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen of the charging Shaolin disciples had fallen.
“Run!” the leader shouted.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Linghu Chong gave chase. The Shaolin monks’ footwork was common and mediocre, utterly incapable of matching the Wind God Leg. Linghu Chong unleashed Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing, moving as swiftly as a gale and as fiercely as lightning. He caught up with the fleeing men one by one and cut them down.
“Junior Brother, don’t panic! Senior Brother is coming to help you!”
A furious shout rang out from the distance.
The men Linghu Chong had killed belonged to only two grain transport teams. Shaolin possessed vast agricultural holdings and naturally would not send only two teams; otherwise, it would take until the end of time to move all the grain. To seize the harvest, Shaolin had dispatched a full twenty grain transport teams.
As Linghu Chong continued his slaughter, more and more grain-transporting monks gathered.
Linghu Chong was consumed by rage and knew no fear. As he watched the number of bald heads before him increase, the images in his mind grew ever clearer: tenant farmers beaten to death and women abducted and abused.
He removed a flask of wine from his waist and drained it in a single gulp. His eyes bloodshot, he roared, “Until every injustice under Heaven is trampled beneath my feet, until every villain’s head is severed—kill!”
Linghu Chong charged forward. With several swift strokes, he severed another wave of heads.
“Form the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation!” the leader of the Shaolin disciples shouted.
A hundred and eight Shaolin disciples immediately arranged themselves around their leader, forming the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation.
Once the formation was complete, Linghu Chong could no longer slaughter his way through every direction. Within the formation, he felt an immense pressure bearing down upon him.
That tremendous pressure obstructed him at every moment, making even the simplest step difficult. Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing, which had previously flowed with perfect ease, was repeatedly hindered. Even the circulation of his inner energy became sluggish.
When a storm of staff shadows came rushing toward him, Linghu Chong was unable to evade them. Several staffs struck his back with brutal force, and he spat out a great mouthful of blood.
“Senior Brother, he is Linghu Chong, the chief disciple of Yue Buqun, formerly of the Mount Hua Sect and now the master of the Immortal Peak Sect. Junior Brother saw him once at Liu Zhengfeng’s Golden Basin Washing-His-Hands Ceremony. Could there be some misunderstanding?”
“There is no misunderstanding. This villain is not Linghu Chong of the Immortal Peak Sect, but an impostor sent by the Demon Cult. Brothers, follow me in destroying this evil!”
The longer the battle continued, the more perilous Linghu Chong’s situation became. His inner energy was already exhausted. He could rely only on his furious courage and the Nine Swords of Dugu to face the enemy.
The Nine Swords of Dugu were merely a sword technique, not some form of sorcery. They were not as exaggerated as the legends claimed. Moreover, there were simply too many enemies, and each additional inch of reach gave them an advantage. As staffs and clubs came crashing down, Linghu Chong suffered wound after wound.
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Linghu Chong knew that these black-hearted Shaolin disciples were determined to beat him to death. But even if he lost, he would not surrender his dignity.
He let out a thunderous roar. “I am Linghu Chong, chief disciple of the Immortal Peak Sect! My head is right here—who dares come and take it?”
A miracle occurred.
With that roar, Linghu Chong suddenly felt the pressure generated by the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation vanish without a trace. Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing became astonishingly fluid, while the long sword in his hand grew sharper than ever.
Even his withered and depleted energy center seemed to have been nourished. Streams of pure inner energy began to arise within him.
By contrast, the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation seemed to have come under an enormous pressure of its own. Its movements became sluggish, obscure, and difficult to execute. The tables had turned, and Linghu Chong began to dominate the formation.
Linghu Chong did not know that, following his roar, the national destiny of the Great Ming Human Realm had begun to empower him. His speed grew greater, his swordsmanship more refined, and his strength more formidable. Nothing could stand in his way.
Shaolin, however, was not an officially recognized sect of the Great Ming Human Realm. It was therefore suppressed by the fortune of humanity.
As their fortunes waxed and waned, Linghu Chong grew faster, his attacks more vicious, and his movements more decisive. If one sword was enough, he would never use two. If one thrust could kill, he would never settle for merely wounding. If a third of his strength could slay an enemy, he would never waste half.
“Arrow-Breaking Stance!”
Linghu Chong unleashed the technique once more.
This Arrow-Breaking Stance was incomparable to the one he had used earlier. It was faster, more accurate, steadier, and more ruthless.
A single sword swept through the formation. Dozens of men clutched their throats and died, and the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation collapsed in an instant.
“Run! Scatter and run!”
The leader shouted, then turned and fled.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Linghu Chong ignored the others and pursued him alone. With Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing, he reached the leader in the space of two breaths and thrust out his sword.
“We are both members of upright and honorable sects, fellow martial artists of the Jianghu. Brother Linghu, why have you attacked us?”
“Upright and honorable sects? What a load of crap!”
Linghu Chong had no interest in arguing or listening to the man’s excuses. With a single sword thrust, he killed the leader.
The Shaolin disciples scattered in every direction. Linghu Chong repeatedly used Wind-Seizing Shadow-Chasing and killed several more, but there were simply too many of them, and they had fled in every direction. His will was strong, but his strength was limited. By then, he was utterly exhausted.
Seeing the Shaolin villains scatter, Linghu Chong abandoned the pursuit. He sat down and began regulating his breath, recovering his strength and inner energy.
Just as Linghu Chong gave up the chase, a series of screams suddenly rang out in the distance. Amid the cries came a fierce shout:
“Kill them all. Leave no one alive.”
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