Mythical Qin: I, Gao Yao, will never be a eunuch!

Chapter 1214 The Peak Battle Below the Grandmaster!

"boom--"

This sound was louder than any before, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, shaking the entire courtyard. The blue bricks beneath their feet shattered simultaneously, cracks spreading outwards like a spiderweb.

Hong Sixiang felt an overwhelming force rushing towards him, which even caused his internal energy to stagnate slightly. He used this force to float backward, his figure as light as a falling leaf, landing three zhang away.

The man also took half a step back, his shoe soles carving two shallow grooves into the blue bricks.

The two looked at each other again, their eyes now filled with seriousness.

"Excellent palm technique." The man finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse, like metal striking stone.

Hong Sixiang did not respond, but instead tucked his hands into his sleeves, his slightly trembling fingers slowly clenching and unclenching within. In that brief exchange, he appeared to have the upper hand, but in reality, his palms were aching, and several of his finger bones showed small cracks. This man's internal energy was not only powerful but also extremely domineering, following a path completely different from Central Plains martial arts.

This person is not from Qing Kingdom, nor even from Southern Qing.

The thought flashed through Hong Sixiang's mind, but he didn't have time to think about it further. Because that person had already made another move.

This time, his marksmanship changed.

No longer was it a random barrage of gunfire, but rather each shot, upright and honest, simple yet carrying immense weight. The spear thrust was like a mountain, the spear intent like a peak, one shot after another, pressing forward relentlessly, giving Hong Sixiang no chance to catch his breath.

Hong Sixiang's expression changed slightly.

This is using clumsiness to overcome skill, and brute force to overwhelm. Seeing the softness of his palm technique, the man stopped competing with him in terms of variations in moves and instead forced him to confront him head-on with pure, unadulterated power. While a half-step Grandmaster is indeed stronger than a ninth-rank master, he is still ultimately made of flesh and blood and cannot endlessly contend with such domineering force.

retreat.

Hong Sixiang moved erratically through the courtyard, each palm strike as light as a dragonfly skimming the water, never directly clashing with the spear shaft. His movements grew faster and faster, gradually transforming into a gray shadow that spun rapidly around the man.

But the man's spear technique grew slower and heavier. Each thrust felt as if a thousand pounds of force were pressing down on it, the area covered by the spear's power shrinking yet becoming increasingly impenetrable. He was like a moving mountain, and no matter how Hong Sixiang moved, he could not break through the long spear's blockade.

Another thirty moves have passed.

Sweat beaded on Hong Sixiang's forehead. He was, after all, old, and even with his profound inner strength, such high-intensity, high-speed movement was still extremely taxing on his stamina. On the other hand, the other man seemed tireless, maintaining the initial power and speed with each thrust, and even showing signs of increasing.

This can't go on any longer.

Hong Sixiang suddenly stopped and thrust out both palms to meet the spear.

"boom--"

With a deafening crash, Hong Sixiang staggered back three steps, each step leaving a deep imprint on the blue bricks. The man's spear was also jolted high into the air, his hand split open, and blood flowed down the shaft.

Both sides suffer.

But the man seemed to feel no pain at all. His spear thrust only paused slightly before continuing, each thrust faster and heavier than the last.

A chill ran through Hong Sixiang's heart.

This man didn't come to fight. He came to kill. The murderous aura emanating from him, the madness that seemed to disregard his own life, was not what a normal martial artist should possess. This was a suicide squad, a killing machine trained in some way. In his eyes, life and death were probably just two different outcomes of completing a mission.

who is it?

Who could train such assassins? Who could send such skilled individuals to infiltrate the palace and assassinate the closest person to Emperor Qing?

Hong Sixiang had no time to think. The gun was already thrusting towards him again.

He took a deep breath, his internal energy surging wildly, and his aura suddenly surged. At this moment, the strength of a half-step Grandmaster was fully unleashed.

A hint of seriousness flashed in the man's eyes, but instead of retreating, he advanced with his spear, thrusting it straight at Hong Sixiang's surging momentum.

The spear tip pierced three feet in front of Hong Sixiang, but could not go any further.

It wasn't that it couldn't be pierced, but rather that it was blocked by an invisible wall of energy. At this moment, the true energy around Hong Sixiang condensed into a tangible form, creating a barrier that was invisible to the naked eye yet indestructible.

The man let out a low shout, his foot suddenly stopping, and he poured all his strength into this one spear. The spear tip trembled, emitting a piercing shriek, and slowly pierced through the wall of energy, approaching Hong Sixiang's heart.

Inch by inch.

Hong Sixiang's face grew paler and paler. This method of releasing true energy was extremely taxing even for a half-step Grandmaster. He hadn't wanted to use this move, because once he did, it meant giving up all escape routes and leaving only a head-on confrontation. But this person's spear technique was too domineering; if he didn't fight desperately now, he might not even have the chance to fight at all.

The spear tip finally stopped three inches from his heart.

It wasn't that the man didn't want to stab again, but Hong Sixiang's hands were already gripping the gun barrel. His ten fingers were like iron clamps, holding it tightly, and no matter how hard the man tried, he couldn't push it in even an inch.

The two remained locked in a stalemate in the center of the courtyard.

The spear tip trembled, the edge of their hands shook, and two completely different yet equally terrifying forces clashed on the spear shaft, producing a series of fine crackling sounds. Under the combined force of the two, the jet-black spear even began to show a faint, distorted curve.

"Who exactly are you?" Hong Sixiang squeezed out the question through gritted teeth.

The man remained silent. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but he was oblivious to it, staring intently into Hong Sixiang's eyes. There was no anger or hatred in his gaze, only an almost indifferent calm.

Hong Sixiang's heart sank.

This kind of person is the most difficult to deal with. Because he has no weaknesses. Anger is a weakness, hatred is a weakness, and fear is an even greater weakness. But this person has nothing; he is like a shell emptied of all emotions, the only thing left is the obsession with killing his target.

The next moment, the man's actions caused Hong Sixiang's pupils to shrink sharply.

He let go.

He loosened his grip on the gun.

The loss of the spear signifies a master marksman abandoning his most powerful weapon, which on the battlefield is undoubtedly suicidal. But the instant the man released his grip, his figure moved like a tiger descending a mountain, lunging towards Hong Sixiang.

The two were only a few feet apart, and the pounce was as fast as lightning. Hong Sixiang's hands were still gripping the gun barrel, and he didn't have time to defend himself. He only had time to turn his head, and the man's fist grazed past his ear.

As the wind from the punch swept past, Hong Sixiang felt a burning pain on half of his face, and his ears rang, causing him to lose his hearing for a moment.

But he had no time to pay attention to any of that. Because the man's second punch was already upon him.

This punch was aimed straight at Hong Sixiang's heart. The punch was incredibly powerful and fierce. Even before the punch arrived, the wind from the punch made Hong Sixiang feel a tightness in his chest.

Hong Sixiang finally released the gun barrel, pulled his palms back, and brought them together at his chest to take the punch head-on.