Li Mochou's other hand shot out in stride, five fingers like steel hooks clawing toward Yang Guo's chest.
“Slick-tongued stinking brat, nothing but sweet talk.”
The moment her palm touched his collar, it felt rock-hard.
It felt almost as if she were pressing against an iron plate.
Her brows furrowed, and she lightly released a burst of internal energy through her palm.
Bang! A muffled thud echoed.
The ragged padded coat Yang Guo wore on the outside burst apart on the spot.
The wooden board inside snapped into several pieces with a crisp crack, flying out in all directions and scattering all over the ground.
This subtle release of force was controlled to absolute perfection; though the coat and wooden board were blown to pieces, the flesh on his body remained entirely unharmed.
Yang Guo looked down at his coat, now reduced to shreds of cloth.
“I don't even have many padded coats to get through the winter.”
The corner of Li Mochou's eyes twitched violently twice.
“No wonder my Ice Soul Silver Needles didn't pierce you earlier.”
“Turns out you were hiding a wooden board against your chest.”
“You kid... are truly crafty enough.”
“And you certainly treasure your life!”
Yang Guo said candidly:
“Poor people can't afford precious armor.”
“We can only make do with whatever's at hand.”
“Besides,”
“when roaming the jianghu, one's life belongs to oneself, while face is just something shown to outsiders.”
Li Mochou laughed out of exasperation.
“You count as roaming the jianghu?”
Yang Guo pointed to himself and said:
“Not in the past.”
“Starting today, I can be considered having half a foot in the jianghu, right?”
Li Mochou asked, “Why?”
Yang Guo answered straightforwardly:
“I've traded blows with the Scarlet Maiden.”
“That ought to count for a bit of jianghu experience, shouldn't it?”
Li Mochou chuckled softly, thinking to herself:
This kid is clearly terrified.
Yet his mouth can't stay idle for even a second.
And surprisingly, a lot of what he says actually makes quite a bit of sense.
She flicked her wrist, holding back her force as she lightly tossed Yang Guo aside.
“Get out of here.”
“This fairy keeps her word. I promised you that those who aren't part of the Lu family can be spared.”
“However, as for the Lu family, not a single one of them gets to live!”
Just as Yang Guo was about to speak, a clatter suddenly sounded from behind him.
Clang!
Aniu and Cheng Ying joined forces to push away several weapon racks blocking the side door.
A path wide enough for a person to pass finally opened up.
Aniu was so excited his voice cracked:
“Yang Guo!”
“The path is open!”
“The wind's tight, let's bolt!”
The gentleness on Li Mochou's fair face abruptly vanished, replaced by surging murderous intent:
“Little brats, did I say you could run? Leave your lives behind!”
She draped her whisk over her shoulder.
Two fingers of her left hand reached into her sleeve, and when they emerged,
three faint points of cold blue light had appeared between her fingers.
Yang Guo's face paled in alarm as he shouted:
“Wait, stop!”
Li Mochou flipped her wrist.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Three Ice Soul Silver Needles shot through the air.
At this moment, Aniu was lifting Lu Wushuang onto his back, with Cheng Ying supporting her from the side.
Yang Guo's pupils contracted sharply; he knew all too well that the three of them could never dodge in time.
His entire body darted out like a leopard, cutting forcefully across the trajectory of the poisonous needles.
Seeing Yang Guo pounce across, Li Mochou felt her heart leap into her throat.
It was too late to shout a warning; tapping her toes on the ground, her apricot-yellow Daoist robe fluttered into the air as she lunged forward to stop it.
In midair, Yang Guo's right hand moved like lightning, snapping shut against the blue light.
The three Ice Soul Silver Needles faint with light were tightly clamped between the fingers of his right hand.
The bone-chilling cold of the needle tips surged from his palm all the way up his arm.
Before he could catch his breath, an extremely fierce, rapid palm wind suddenly assaulted the back of his neck.
Li Mochou had lunged too urgently, the gale created by her movement detonating beside Yang Guo's ears.
Yang Guo had no idea she was trying to stop the impact; he assumed this female demon was seizing the chance to deliver a head-crushing palm strike to the back of his skull!
Leveraging his forward momentum, he exerted power from his waist to twist his body sharply, clenching his right hand into a fist with a backhand movement.
Together with the three silver needles between his fingers, he slammed his fist straightforwardly toward the incoming wind without any fluff.
Bang!!
Fist and palm violently collided in midair.
The newly cultivated Nine Yang true qi surged violently from his dantian, turning into a scalding heatwave that pushed back directly.
Yang Guo's feet scraped along the blue paving stones, sliding backward for over a zhang, his shoe soles grinding out blue smoke before he barely managed to steady himself.
Opposite him, Li Mochou let out a muffled grunt and drifted back a few steps.
However, a piercing pain and numbness suddenly shot through her palm.
Looking down, she saw three very shallow bloody cuts on her jade-white palm.
The Ice Soul Silver Needles clamped in Yang Guo's fist just now had pricked her skin in reverse.
A strand of glaring black blood was rapidly spreading along the lines of her palm.
Li Mochou's expression changed drastically. She hurriedly pulled a small yellow porcelain bottle from her bosom, and with shaking hands, poured out two antidote pills, shoving them into her mouth and swallowing them.
She glared at Yang Guo in shock and rage:
“Stinking brat! Are you looking to die?”
“My Ice Soul Silver Needles are highly toxic. Catching them with your bare palm—are you seeking death? Throw the needles away already!”
Yang Guo said softly, “I know they're poisonous.”
He naturally knew that these Ice Soul Silver Needles were extremely toxic, causing poisoning upon contact.
Yet if he hadn't intercepted the poisonous needles and they had hit the three of them, they would likely have died on the spot.
Yang Guo's hand hung limply by his side as the three poisonous needles fell to the ground with a clatter.
The black poison in his palm was already spreading upward along his arm.
At first, it was only numb where the needles had pricked, but soon, his entire right hand became somewhat unresponsive.
Immediately after, a chilling sensation seeped up his wrist into his forearm, like a cold snake crawling inside his meridians.
The Nine Yang Divine Art indeed possessed the ability to render one immune to all poisons.
The problem was—he had only cultivated it for half a year.
The small amount of Nine Yang true qi inside him had barely stabilized its minor circulation.
He was still far from being immune to all poisons.
At most, his resistance to poison was slightly stronger than that of ordinary people.
Yang Guo hastily circulated his true qi, the warm energy at his dantian violently surging toward his right arm.
As hot and cold collided, his entire right arm instantly grew both numb and painful.
“Hss...” His body swayed, and his vision began to blur.
Aniu let out a howl and lunged forward to support his shoulder, while Cheng Ying also rushed up to hold him tight.
“Your hand...”
By now, the back of Yang Guo's hand had turned entirely dark blue and black.
Lu Wushuang dragged her injured leg as she shuffled toward them as well.
“Yang Guo!”
“How are you?”
Yang Guo was supported by the three of them.
His head spun with another wave of dizziness, and his legs buckled, nearly sending him collapsing straight to the ground.
Supporting Yang Guo, Aniu said:
“Sit down first.”
Yang Guo bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, the taste of blood mixing with intense pain to forcibly drag back his scattering consciousness.
He sat cross-legged on the ground, his left hand moving like the wind with fingers paired.
He tapped the Jianjing point on his right arm, then sealed several acupoints in quick succession, including Quchi and Neiguan.
He didn't know any subtle acupoint-striking techniques, but the human body's meridians and acupoints were written very clearly in the Nine Yang Manual.
Trapping the poison in his right arm first was better than letting it rush all at once into his heart meridian.
With his acupoints sealed, Yang Guo immediately closed his eyes.
The Nine Yang true qi continuously surged toward his right arm.
The warmth grew more and more pronounced, drops of sweat dripping down from his forehead.
Before long, a subtle wisp of white steam actually began rising from the top of his head.
Li Mochou stood a few paces away, making no further move to strike.
She had seen plenty of people who claimed they didn't care about their lives.
Some for fame.
Some for profit.
And some who downed a couple of drinks, patting their chests while proclaiming deep brotherhood.
Yet when actually faced with life and death, every single one ran faster than the last.
The kid before her, however, was very strange. He treasured his life—truly treasured it.
He stuffed a wooden board against his chest, wore three layers of padded coats on his body, and when facing big trouble, his mind would turn toward slipping away.
Yet just now, when the Ice Soul Silver Needles flew out, this kid hadn't even hesitated before throwing himself right in front of them.
Li Mochou stared at Yang Guo for a while before suddenly speaking:
“Stinking brat.”
“You clearly knew my Ice Soul Silver Needles were toxic.”
“Why did you still dare to catch them with your hand?”
Yang Guo was channeling his internal art, sweat pouring down his forehead.
Only after a few breaths did he say:
“If the three of them were struck by the poison needles, they'd be dead ten out of ten times.”
“I'm different. I have internal skill.”
“Though not much.”
The corner of Yang Guo's mouth twitched:
“At least I can take a hit better than them.”
Beside him, Aniu grew anxious:
“Yang Guo.”
“This isn't taking a hit! It's poison!”
Yang Guo said limply:
“It's all the same.”
“It hurts either way.”
With the circulation of Nine Yang true qi, that icy poison energy inside his right arm finally halted, at least stopping its creep toward his shoulder.
Li Mochou kept staring at Yang Guo, her expression somewhat complex as she asked:
“Did you never think about it?”
“What if you couldn't withstand this poison?”
Yang Guo gasped heavily, his throat feeling as though it were on fire:
“Though I didn't know if I could hold out, at least... I could gamble on it.”
He coughed up a mouthful of spittle tainted with black blood and grinned:
“One for three.”
“This deal... isn't a loss.”
Hearing Yang Guo's words, even the three of Lu Liding lying immobile off to the side felt deep admiration for him from the bottom of their hearts.
The courtyard fell into dead silence.
Only the sound of draft winds swirling broken tiles echoed around.
Li Mochou stood in the wind, pressing one hand against her faintly aching palm, remaining silent for a long time without saying a word.
All her life, she had killed treacherous, ungrateful hypocrites.
She had seen far too many hypocrites who spouted benevolence and righteousness, only to drop to their knees and beg for mercy the moment a blade touched their necks.
Yet the little beggar before her had bones as hard as a piece of scalding raw iron.
The millennia-old ice deep in Li Mochou's eyes actually split open a quiet crack at this very moment.
Rate on N.U.
