Chapter 041: Immortal

A single thrust pierced the heart, yet the man before him appeared utterly unscathed. Urgent, hissing sounds escaped his lips as he lifted his hands and seized the blade.

Yao Qian tried to withdraw the knife, but it stuck fast. The young man opened his mouth wide; once again, crimson, raw flesh split apart. This time, Yao Qian saw clearly into the man's mouth, and the sight was even more revolting—his tongue seemed not merely part of his mouth but as if it belonged to the very depths of his body.

Suddenly, the tongue shot outward. The 'bud' at its tip unfurled, resembling the armored petals of a lotus in bloom, but within lay rows of jagged, razor-sharp fangs, each tooth coated in viscous, nauseating saliva. At the center of these fangs was a sucker-like appendage, about the size of a thumb, bright red and ceaselessly pulsing, writhing in a way that turned the stomach.

The two stood barely an arm's length apart. The flower-bud shot out with lightning speed, clawing for his face. In that split second, Yao Qian's mind had no time to react, but his body instinctively dropped low, narrowly dodging the strike. At the same time, he lashed out with a palm strike—the basic Devastating Heart Palm unleashed once more.

Devastating Heart Palm—Mountain Push!

His hands thrust forward with the force of shifting mountains. No longer holding anything back, he unleashed his full strength in a torrent, slamming into the man's chest.

A sickening crack rang out. The tremendous force hurled the man across the room, his body crashing against the wall with a thunderous impact that sent dust billowing. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone, and the man's bones shattered with a sound too many to count.

His body hung against the wall like a tattered scroll, yet the young man still did not die. He shook his head and body, staggering upright, though his movements were now noticeably sluggish.

Yao Qian was shocked. This monster was absurdly resilient—a stab through the heart did not kill him, nor did a full-force palm to the chest. Any human martial artist would have died a dozen times over, but to these creatures, such blows were as nothing.

The more he thought about it, the grimmer he grew, but he forced these thoughts aside almost instantly. If he didn’t deal with these two monsters before him, he could forget about anything else—he was as good as dead.

He yanked his blood-soaked blade from the man's chest and dashed toward the woman. The woman let out a sharp hiss; seeing him approach with his blade, her blood-stained lips parted, and her own flower-bud shot forth once more.

Gritting his teeth, Yao Qian met the attack head-on. The bloodied blade clashed with the flower-bud, and the force of the impact sent a shudder through him. He stomped hard, shattering the floor tiles beneath him, then surged forward instead of retreating, grabbing hold of the recoiling red tongue.

Immediately, a slick, slippery sensation filled his hand—it felt like clutching a writhing snake, as if hundreds of venomous serpents coiled around his body, their wet, slimy bodies reeking of a fetid, overpowering stench.

But there was no time to hesitate. With a roar, he twisted his body, looping the red tongue around himself.

The woman's mouth gaped wide, her face contorted in agony. Hissing fiercely, the bud at her tongue's tip opened again, lunging to bite him.

How could Yao Qian let her succeed? His blade flashed down, spraying a jet of sticky blood as he severed her tongue. The tension vanished in an instant; the woman collapsed, but the severed tongue, like a venomous snake, still lunged at him.

He smashed the bud with the hilt of his blade, sending it flying. It landed on the ground, still writhing and twitching.

Meanwhile, the young man staggered over, launching a fist at Yao Qian’s chest. The flower-bud burst from his mouth once more, arrowing toward Yao Qian’s heart.

But Yao Qian had adapted to their rhythm. With a cold snort, he ignored the fist and chopped down with his blade, splitting the red tongue and sending blood and stench spraying far and wide.

The young man let out another sibilant screech, but Yao Qian was relentless. He stabbed again—the 'Overlord of the Mountains' move from the Five Tigers Gate-Cleaving Blade—driving the blade into the man's mouth and twisting fiercely, severing the entire head.

The head rolled away, the headless corpse toppled, yet the eyes still blinked, the long red tongue still twitching and hissing as if refusing to die.

Yao Qian frowned. These monsters were truly unkillable—even decapitated, they lingered on. Across the way, the woman writhed on the ground, her head thumping repeatedly against the stone.

Puzzled, Yao Qian watched as a beetle burst from the woman’s shattered skull and scurried down the alleyway.

With a cold snort, Yao Qian hurled his blade like an arrow, pinning the beetle to the ground. It writhed, its rounded, fist-sized body straining to break free.

Yao Qian strode over, withdrew his blade, and with a single stroke lopped off the beetle’s head. Only then did its wriggling cease, the body stiffening at last.

On the other side, the man’s decapitated head began to twitch. Yao Qian walked over and kicked it hard. With his strength now fully unleashed, he could have shattered a wall, let alone a human skull.

The head exploded against the wall with a sickening splatter of blood and brain matter, red and white spraying everywhere. But Yao Qian paid it no mind. From the gory mess rolled another black beetle, already dead from the force of the blow.

Having slain both monsters, Yao Qian left the alley, only to see several corpses strewn nearby. Some were shriveled husks, others pinned beneath men and women who seemed to be devouring their blood and flesh.

A quick glance revealed nearly twenty such monsters. He immediately abandoned any thought of fighting his way through.

So many at once—even if he were made of iron, he couldn’t last long.

Moving with utmost caution and silence, he slipped back into the alley. He had to leave at once. These monsters had infiltrated the city without a sound; he needed to warn Old Wang and the magistrate right away, to get them out safely.

As for the rest, their fates were in the hands of the gods.

Just as he was about to leave, his gaze fell on the beetles lying on the ground. He paused, wrapped up the two beetles, and took them with him.

Less than half a cup of tea after he left, several figures appeared in the alleyway. At their head was the dwarf Old Huang, clad in a yellow robe. His eyes swept over the corpses on the ground, his face ice-cold.

After a long silence, he spoke. "Hmph. To think someone dared kill our people. Find him—hunt him down. Turn all his family and friends into our human sheep, our food."

Old Huang’s face twisted with malice, a savage gleam in his eyes as he addressed his companions.

Unlike the vacant, glassy-eyed monsters from before, these people’s gazes flickered with life—they looked indistinguishable from ordinary humans. One of them even spoke, "And what about the task from the master?"

Old Huang pondered for a moment, then continued, "Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take the others to the yamen and seize those human sheep for us. As for this matter, I leave it to you. He took the corpses, so finding him shouldn’t be hard. Catch him, his family, his friends—I want him to know that killing our people comes at a terrible price."

"That’s right," another chimed in. "We’ll devour his loved ones before his very eyes, savor his agony and despair. That taste is beyond compare."