Chapter 888 — A Dilemma
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
Head-on? That was only a bluff to fool Ma Zhu. To truly trade blow for blow with Ma Zhu would be nothing short of suicide for Wei Zhao.
"Ha! Die!" Ma Zhu was triumphant, certain his fist was about to land squarely on Wei Zhao—when he suddenly realized that Wei Zhao had vanished. Ma Zhu froze. "Eh? Where'd he go?"
"Right here!" Wei Zhao's voice came with a tremendous bang as his twin fists crashed into Ma Zhu's back, right over his heart!
Wei Zhao had poured every ounce of strength into those two punches, holding nothing back, pushing his power to its absolute limit, and his aim was to deal Ma Zhu a grievous wound! Had Ma Zhu been merely an Earth-rank expert, that strike would at most have left him lightly injured—but with only one rank now separating the two of them, Wei Zhao's full-force blow might not kill Ma Zhu, though it would likely hurt him badly.
Such was Wei Zhao's strategy: give Ma Zhu a few more surprise attacks, and surely the man would drop dead sooner or later! Sure, his opponent was stronger—so why not simply refuse to meet him head-on?
His master had once said: if your enemy is stronger than you, avoid his edge and strike him by surprise! To hell with the rules of the jianghu—to an assassin, those are so much nonsense. The assassin's sole aim is to kill, not to prate about martial honor.
Wei Zhao's fists slammed heavily into Ma Zhu's back, yet in that very instant his expression turned ghastly. For his fists felt as though they had struck a slab of iron—as though what he had hit was not a human body at all!
What was worse, the recoil from that iron slab slammed back into Wei Zhao and shook him badly.
"Pff—" A mouthful of blood burst from Wei Zhao's lips—clear proof that a portion of the force he had struck with had rebounded into his own body.
Shocked as he was, however, Wei Zhao's feet did not linger. The moment his blow landed, he was already retreating fast.
Sure enough, the instant Wei Zhao sprang aside, Ma Zhu whipped around, swinging his fist, and smashed at him—but struck only empty air!
"You're a quick one, kid. Hahahaha!" Ma Zhu roared with laughter. "Well? Feels great, doesn't it? Tsk, tsk—coughing up blood already. Seems that punch of yours carried some weight. Just didn't expect you to reap what you sowed, did you? Hahahaha!"
Wei Zhao stared at Ma Zhu in alarm, his brows knitting in disbelief. At that moment Ma Zhu looked anything but hurt—in fact, he looked as though Wei Zhao's two punches had never touched him at all!
"You... you're not hurt?" Wei Zhao drew a deep breath before steadying himself. He smiled bitterly inside: he had gone out to snatch a chicken and come home with a fistful of rice—most of the force he had delivered into Ma Zhu had returned to him.
"No harm in telling you—my Golden Bell Shield has reached the eighth level!" Ma Zhu sneered at Wei Zhao. "I'm not afraid of your blows. One hit from me and you're dead! Well? Fun, isn't it? Wahahahaha! What can you do about it?"
"The eighth level of the Golden Bell Shield! No wonder..." Wei Zhao suddenly understood. No wonder Ma Zhu had come away unscathed after taking his punches, while he himself had been hurt instead! So the man was a cultivator of the Golden Bell Shield!
Such cultivators were rare, for mastering the Golden Bell Shield demanded a long and brutal process—one that first tested the will and then wearied the body, inflicting untold suffering. Without an iron resolve, no one could ever bring the art to fruition.
Seeing Wei Zhao give ground again and again—and spit blood on top of it—Zhen Yingjun cheered in delight: "Mighty, Master Ma! Badass, Master Ma! Kill that little punk!"
Gu Mengyao and Shen Yushu had, in that moment, all but stopped breathing! In their eyes, Wei Zhao had always been an invincible being—and yet he had coughed up blood! And the blood had come while Wei Zhao was attacking, not while he was being attacked!