Chapter 8: A Punch That Could Pierce Through Chests

He Min was equally curious about Chen Luo’s martial prowess; her ears had nearly grown calluses from all the talk over these past two days.

The most frequent words she heard were Cripple Ma’s praises:

“He is a rare, unparalleled prodigy in martial arts, truly unfortunate that I lack access to more advanced techniques,” and so on. As someone who had always been considered a genius herself, He Min found this hard to accept. Being of similar age, with her own extensive training since childhood, even if he were genuinely gifted, she confidently believed she could overcome him.

Time spent honing one’s skills cannot be easily overshadowed by mere talent alone.

Both combatants took their positions, each assuming their starting stances.

“Be careful, Senior Brother!”

After waiting for three breaths and seeing no sign of Chen Luo attacking, He Min decided to strike first. With a burst of energy, she propelled herself forward, her feet digging into the ground. Her figure flashed as her hand formed a claw, aiming directly at Chen Luo across from her.

It was none other than Cripple Ma’s signature move, ‘Black Tiger Heart Rip’—a fierce and powerful technique. However, under He Min’s control, it transformed into a swift, cheetah-like style, emphasizing speed over strength.

Chen Luo also raised his hands, forming claws, and countered swiftly despite being second to initiate.

With a loud ‘thud,’ their fists met in mid-air, producing a dull impact sound.

Initially confident, He Min’s expression changed abruptly upon impact. An overwhelming force surged against her from the collision. Unable to evade in time, her arm instantly fractured. She flew backward like a ragdoll, slamming hard into a nearby sandbag. After tumbling down, she coughed out a mouthful of blood and lost consciousness.

Chen Luo was equally stunned.

He had cautiously used only three-tenths of his strength, without even employing inner qi.

Yet as soon as they made contact, something felt off. His opponent, He Shimei, seemed as fragile as paper; with just a slight touch, her bones broke, and she was sent flying.

“Damned brat! Why didn’t you hold back?!”

Cripple Ma swiftly rushed over, immediately lifting He Min and rapidly pressing on several acupoints. Then, he checked her pulse, visibly relieved after confirming there were no major injuries.

“I told you to assist, not to incapacitate her.”

After settling his female disciple, Cripple Ma pointed at Chen Luo, unleashing a torrent of curses.

Chen Luo stood bewildered, genuinely unsure what went wrong.

In truth, he did hold back; otherwise, his strike would have pierced through He Shimei’s chest. However, voicing this concern might further infuriate Cripple Ma, so it was best left unsaid.

“Now get lost, I’ll handle your shimei.”

Seeing Chen Luo’s bewildered expression, Cripple Ma refrained from further scolding and simply told him to leave.

“Yes,” Chen Luo replied.

Having no way to assist or heal her, staying would only add to the chaos.

“When Shimei wakes up, please convey my apologies to her.”

Chen Luo pondered for a moment before retrieving a medicinal patch from his robes.

This was something he had ‘developed,’ and it was the only suitable gift he could offer. He hoped that upon waking, his shimei wouldn’t blame him and wouldn’t be traumatized by the incident.

Cripple Ma waved impatiently, dismissing him.

Understanding this gesture, Chen Luo did not linger any longer and turned to depart.

“In future fights, be more cautious and try to control your strength. Accidentally causing someone’s death will bring immense trouble.”

As Chen Luo approached the exit, Cripple Ma suddenly remembered and offered a reminder.

“Disciple understands,” Chen Luo nodded solemnly.

This encounter also gave him a rough understanding of his own power. At full force, he estimated he could take on about a hundred He Shimeis simultaneously.

While Chen Luo was sparring with He Min, elsewhere at the government office, Third Uncle received some startling news.

Luo Cheng is dead.

This news sent a chill through Third Uncle’s heart.

From the moment they buried the bodies, he felt something was amiss. Executing members of the imperial family is a capital offense; how could their adversaries be so lenient, allowing them to leave unharmed? Even considering it from their perspective, it seemed improbable. No one willingly entrusts their life and fortune on someone else’s promise, especially those in power like the white-haired eunuch.

The days passing without incident had gradually eased his concerns. However, hearing this sudden news reignited his unease.

To verify the truth, Third Uncle specifically requested the task of burying Luo Cheng’s remains.

“How tragic.”

When Third Uncle arrived at Luo Cheng’s residence, two bailiffs were just stepping out, covering their noses, indicating they had finished handling the scene.

Upon seeing Third Uncle dressed as a corpse collector, they nodded towards him before departing immediately.

The case had been closed.

Suicide.

Investigations by the yamen officials were always swift and brutal, even more so during such feudal times. As long as the imperial court’s reputation remained untarnished, superiors typically demanded quick resolution. Capturing the true culprit was ideal, but if not possible, finding scapegoats among vagrants sufficed, as long as the case could be closed.

With Luo Cheng’s entire family virtually wiped out, there was no one left to cause further trouble. Thus, the officials hastily concluded the case, seeking simplicity above all else.

As for the truth? Who cared?

Third Uncle pushed open the door and entered.

Inside, a neat row of eleven corpses lay on the floor.

Luo Cheng, along with his parents, wife, and children—all his close relatives—were dead. The bodies were charred beyond recognition, making it impossible to identify each individual. Third Uncle approached, crouched down, and began a meticulous examination, wanting to determine how Luo Cheng had died.

“They were killed first, then burned.”

A voice sounded behind Third Uncle.

“How long have you been here?” Upon hearing the voice, he paused his inspection and turned back without surprise.

The newcomer was Wang Laozuan, who had helped bury the bodies with him that day. Likely sensing danger as well, this old fellow came to investigate the situation.

“About an hour before you arrived.” Wang Laozuan sat down nearby.

“Luo Cheng’s entire family was poisoned,” Wang Laozuan said. “I examined their respiratory tracts; they were completely clean. In other words, after the fire started, they didn’t inhale any dust at all. Instead, remnants of a highly toxic and corrosive substance were found in their stomachs—one touch would have been fatal.”

Under what circumstances could someone at a fire scene not inhale even a speck of dust? The answer required no further thought.

Wang Laozuan produced a small porcelain bottle containing evidence he had collected earlier.

However, holding this evidence held little significance. The county magistrate wouldn’t seek justice for them or even bother to ask questions. They were merely grave diggers, their lives as insignificant as ants, while on the other side stood people from the imperial palace. Anyone with half a brain knew which side to choose.

Wang Laozuan set aside the porcelain bottle, retrieved his pipe from his lapels, filled it with tobacco leaves, and lit it. Taking a deep drag, the sharp, spicy scent filled his lungs.

“What do you plan to do?”

Chen Luosan sat down on another step nearby.

A sense of impending danger had already gripped him.

This time it was Luo Cheng, but who would be next? As mere grave diggers, their social circle was frighteningly narrow. Why would anyone target them without reason?

“My granddaughter has left the city and will now take her mother’s surname.”

Wang Laozuan finished smoking, tapped his pipe twice against the doorframe to clear the ashes, then packed away his tobacco before standing up and departing without a backward glance.

Compared to death, there were things he valued more.

Seated at the doorway, Third Uncle pondered deeply, not fully coming back to reality until sunset.

He didn’t want to die.

But even more so, he didn’t want his nephew to die.

In comparison, his own life seemed all the more insignificant.

Suddenly, he found himself understanding Wang Laozuan better. The old man feared death too, but for his granddaughter’s survival, he chose to face it himself. A life for a life could serve as some form of closure for that high-ranking official. If Wang Laozuan could make such a choice, how could Third Uncle fall behind?!

‘The only regret is not finding a wife for little Luo.’