aircannonsinc Chapter 1213 Clash: Ran Min VS Hong 4 Itch!
Chapter 1213 Clash: Ran Min VS Hong 4 Itch!
The spear was entirely black, neither gold nor wood, almost blending into the figure in the twilight. The spearhead was over a foot long, double-edged, incomparably sharp, with a faint dark red sheen on the edge—marks left from excessive bloodshed. The tassel was pure black, now moving without wind, its wisps swaying gently like living things.
What a deadly gun.
Hong Sixiang's gaze shifted from the tip of the gun to the man holding it, finally settling on his eyes. Their eyes met, and the world fell silent.
No questions are needed.
This was an instinct honed by Hong Sixiang's decades of service in the palace—some people could be asked, some things could be said, but at this moment, facing this person and this scene, any words were superfluous. This was the inner courtyard of the palace, one of the most secret corners under Emperor Qing's nose. The fact that this person could appear here silently meant that the outer guards had either been eliminated, or they were... his men.
Either way, it means the other party has already prepared everything. And his purpose is singular.
Hong Sixiang slowly stepped out of the threshold and onto the blue brick floor.
The invisible pressure in the courtyard grew stronger with each step he took. This wasn't an outward display of power, but a higher level of confrontation—both were using their presence to squeeze each other's living space. Like two wild beasts meeting in the wilderness, before the actual attack, they first used their gaze and aura to determine who was superior.
Half-step Grandmaster.
These four words flashed through Hong Sixiang's mind. He himself was a cultivator at this level, so he naturally knew what it meant. It was a delicate realm between the ninth rank and the grandmaster level, a height that countless martial artists could not reach even after a lifetime of effort. At this level, every move one made subtly merged with heaven and earth, and every stance contained profound truths of the Great Dao.
The person before him was clearly not yet a half-step Grandmaster—his aura was still at the ninth rank, but it was the strongest ninth-rank aura Hong Sixiang had ever seen in his life. That aura was powerful and domineering, like a mountain torrent erupting, like ten thousand horses galloping, yet it was suppressed within his body by an extremely strong will, held back and not revealed. This control, this endurance, had already exceeded the scope that ordinary ninth-rank individuals could reach.
This is someone who is just one step away from entering the realm of a half-step Grandmaster.
No, perhaps he has already taken half a step, but he is deliberately suppressing his aura at the ninth rank.
Hong Sixiang couldn't be sure. There was only one thing he was certain of—this battle could not possibly end well.
"Whose orders have you come here on my behalf?" Hong Sixiang finally spoke, his voice calm and composed, as if it were just a casual greeting.
The man did not answer.
He slightly raised his spear, the tip pointing towards Hong Sixiang's heart, the shaft at approximately a 45-degree angle to the ground. This was the most common starting stance for the spear, combining offense and defense; it could deliver a fatal blow to the throat or protect the entire body. Yet, when he wielded this stance, it carried an indescribable sense of oppression, as if the spear wasn't in his hand but rather an extension of his flesh and blood, becoming a part of his body.
Hong Sixiang did not ask any further questions.
He slowly raised his right hand, fingers slightly spread, without reaching for any weapon. This action caused the gunman's eyes to flicker—was he going to catch a gun bare-handed without using a weapon? Was this arrogance, or did he have something to rely on?
Hong Sixiang offered no explanation.
His whisk still hangs on the wall of the hall, but that is not his weapon. His weapon has always been these hands, which look as thin as a rake. Sixty years of arduous training, sixty years of honing, have made these hands no less powerful than any divine weapon.
The wind stopped.
It was as if only two people remained in the world, with two pairs of eyes and two breaths.
Then the person moved.
Without any warning, without any prelude, it moved without any indication. With a slight shift of his foot, he had already covered a distance of three zhang, the tip of the spear tearing through the air with a sharp whistle, heading straight for Hong Sixiang's throat.
That shot was incredibly fast.
It was so fast that time seemed to stand still, so fast that sound seemed to be left behind. Before the spear tip even arrived, the chilling killing intent had already rushed over, causing the white hair at Hong Sixiang's temples to flutter slightly.
Hong Sixiang did not back down.
He slightly shifted his body to the side, dodging the gun tip, and his right hand shot out like lightning, his five fingers gripping the gun barrel.
The man reacted even faster. Before the spear's momentum had faded, he flicked his wrist, and the spear tip suddenly changed direction, drawing a strange arc, transforming from a straight thrust into a horizontal sweep, the spear shaft carrying immense force as it swept towards Hong Sixiang's waist.
The speed of the change of moves and the smoothness of the transitions were like flowing clouds and running water, without the slightest stagnation.
Hong Sixiang remained expressionless, abruptly retracting his outstretched right hand while simultaneously pushing his left palm horizontally to meet the sweeping spear shaft.
They clashed with their guns.
"boom--"
A muffled thud, like a thunderclap, exploded, and an invisible shockwave swept outwards from the two people. The withered branches of the old plum tree in the courtyard rustled, and the few remaining plum blossoms fell like rain.
Hong Sixiang felt a tingling numbness in his palm as a powerful and domineering force surged through the spear shaft, causing his inner energy to stagnate slightly. He felt a chill run down his spine—this person's inner strength far exceeded his expectations. It was not merely the level expected of a ninth-grade martial artist; it had even faintly touched the edge of a half-step grandmaster.
The man was even more surprised.
His sweeping spear strike, seemingly casual, actually contained seventy percent of his power, enough to pulverize even a boulder. Yet, the withered old man before him blocked it with a single palm strike, his body remaining perfectly still, as if the immense force had struck not flesh and blood, but a towering mountain.
The two looked at each other, but neither spoke.
The next instant, the two moved simultaneously.
The spear danced like a black dragon, its shadows overlapping and transforming into a sky full of dark light that enveloped Hong Sixiang. The man's spear technique was fierce and domineering, each thrust carrying the power to split mountains and shatter rocks, yet it was also extremely fast. Fierceness and speed were perfectly integrated, making him the most skilled spearman Hong Sixiang had ever seen.
Hong Sixiang's palms flew as he weaved through the swirling spear shadows. His palm techniques were as soft as water and as elusive as clouds, seemingly slow, yet always managing to evade the spearheads perfectly, finding a sliver of hope at the critical moment. The edges of his palms occasionally struck the spear shafts, producing a series of muffled thuds, each one causing the blue bricks of the courtyard to tremble slightly.
The two figures darted across the courtyard, their spear shadows and palm strikes weaving into an impenetrable net. Wherever they passed, blue bricks shattered, plum branches broke, and even the stone vat that had been filled with water for years was struck by the palm strike, exploding with a deafening roar. The clear water inside splashed everywhere, instantly vaporizing into a cloud of white mist from the surging true energy.
Amidst the billowing white mist, Hong Sixiang suddenly lunged forward.
This was an extremely risky move—he charged straight at the spear tip, and just as the spear tip was about to pierce his chest, he suddenly ducked, dodging the spearhead, while his right palm slid along the shaft of the spear, aiming straight for the man's throat.
The man's eyes flashed with a sharp light. He switched the gun to his left hand, clenched his right fist, and punched Hong Sixiang's palm.
Fist and palm meet.