Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—

Then, several more broken tiles shot from behind, their sharp whistles tearing through the air and echoing down the narrow alley.

The aim was poor, but there were enough of them.

Five of them hit Song Diao—on his spine, the crook of his knee, his elbow, his ass...

Except for the one that hit his ass, which did little harm, the rest inflicted grievous wounds.

One tile dug into his spine. It felt as if his entire backbone had been smashed from behind with a hammer. The Power penetrated his bones and then imploded like a Thunder Burst. On the surface, it only looked like a large lump on his back, but inside, his muscles were mangled into paste, and his spine was riddled with countless hairline fractures.

One struck his right elbow, passing straight through and nearly shearing off his forearm.

Another hit the crook of his left knee and one his right Achilles tendon. Both his legs gave out at once, as if boneless, and he pitched forward.

THUD—

With a muffled impact, Song Diao’s bloated body became wedged tightly between the debris and an earthen wall.

He couldn’t muster any strength in his legs or right arm. Sensation began to fade from his waist and abdomen, everything below the spinal wound.

Only his uninjured left hand clawed frantically at the ground, tearing his nails back and leaving bloody scratches everywhere.

"Dad! Save me—!"

Song Diao shrieked, his voice cracking from the strain. It was sharp and frantic, like a fattened pig with a knife to its throat.

Up ahead, Song Zhuo spun around.

He had only meant to glance back at his son, but the sight made him jolt in shock.

His eyes flew wide, his pupils constricted, and the color drained from his face, as if he had just seen a ghost!

A boy who looked like a commoner had appeared in his line of sight.

But Song Zhuo couldn’t fathom it. How had this boy appeared out of thin air?

’How the fuck was there not the slightest sound?’

He, Song Zhuo, had roamed the Green Forest Dao for half his life. He wouldn’t boast about his other strengths, but his alertness was absolutely top-tier!

The Zhao City Captain’s Mansion and the Patrol Office had jointly hunted him for seven or eight years, but they hadn’t caught so much as a hair on his head.

And that wasn’t because of luck!

His nose for danger, his perception of any rustle in the grass, was far stronger than an ordinary person’s!

And yet, at this moment, he hadn’t detected the slightest trace of the boy’s presence—not a breath, not a footstep, not even a ripple of his Blood Qi.

It was as if the boy wasn’t a person at all.

But a lifeless ghost, an ethereal specter, a wandering evil spirit!

Indeed.

This boy was Chen Cheng, who had used Endless Moon Breath to approach in complete silence.

"You... Are you a man or a ghost!?"

Song Zhuo’s voice trembled, his face deathly pale. He subconsciously took two steps back, his mind racing. ’Should I abandon my son to save myself?’

Chen Cheng said nothing, simply continuing his rapid advance.

As he stepped over the paralyzed Song Diao, Chen Cheng slowly raised his foot over the man’s neck, intending to stomp the life out of him.

"Senior Brother Chen!"

From the ruins behind them, the blood-soaked young man struggled to crawl out. He shouted with what seemed to be all his remaining strength.

Chen Cheng hesitated for a fraction of a second.

The foot, poised to fall, finally drew back its Power.

He bent down, pulled a rather flat but still heavy Money Bag from Song Diao’s waist, and stuffed it inside his robes.

Then his figure shot up, and he pounced straight toward Song Zhuo.

"You motherfucker..."

Song Zhuo saw Chen Cheng’s speed and knew he had no chance of escape. His only choice was to fight.

He was, after all, a hardened bandit who had lived on the edge for over a decade. At the brink of life and death, his ferocity completely snuffed out his fear and pain.

Clenching his fists, he charged to meet Chen Cheng.

The wind from his fist howled as it aimed for Chen Cheng’s face,

but Chen Cheng merely tilted his body, easily dodging the blow.

Song Zhuo’s punch missed. He twisted at the waist, his other fist following with vicious, cunning speed.

But Chen Cheng was even faster. In the instant he had sidestepped, he had already cocked his right fist. It shot out now, striking Song Zhuo’s left ribs before his opponent’s second punch could even fully extend.

BANG—

The muffled impact cracked like a thunderclap on an alligator-hide drum. Three of Song Zhuo’s ribs snapped instantly.

The broken ends pierced his lung, and his vision went black from the pain.

But Chen Cheng didn’t retract his fist. Dark Force flooded in, detonating inside Song Zhuo’s body like a bolt of Divine Thunder.

BOOM—

A section of Song Zhuo’s left ribs caved in. He was thrown sideways half a step, crashing through the adjacent earthen wall. He spat a mouthful of thick, bloody slurry filled with shredded pieces of his ruined lung.

Song Zhuo staggered back, trying to create distance, but Chen Cheng gave him no such opportunity.

The second punch followed immediately, aimed straight for his heart.

Song Zhuo twisted desperately to dodge. The fist grazed his chest, and he barely escaped with his life.

Even so, the force of the blow tore through his clothes, carving a bloody, gaping furrow across his chest.

A split second slower, and the punch would have shattered his ribcage.

Before he could even catch his breath, a third punch—an uppercut—had already launched, viciously smashing into his jaw.

CRACK—

The sound of his mandible shattering was sickeningly clear.

The blow lifted Song Zhuo completely off his feet. The back of his head slammed into the earthen wall, blasting a large crater in it. His body hung there for two breaths before slumping to the ground.

His jaw was completely mangled, unable to close.

Bloody pulp gushed from his mouth, mixed with fragments of teeth and shredded flesh.

His vision went black. The world spun around him, and everything he saw was a double image.

A sharp ringing filled his ears, as if someone were drilling into them with an awl.

His head felt so heavy it threatened to fall from his neck, lolling limply to one side.

THUD—

He finally collapsed into a sitting position.

From a distance, he looked like a senile old man at death’s door.

His body was severely hunched, his gaze vacant, his head tilted crookedly. Bloody slurry hung from his mouth like drool, stretching into sticky threads that dripped all over him and the ground.

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