Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

Qin Zhun shouted loudly.

He pounced on Chen Zhan from behind, like a mad beast, his arms outstretched, crashing headfirst into Chen Zhan's back.

This impact carried all his vital energy, and the inner strength of the Core Formation Realm surged from his dantian, filling his limbs and bones without holding back, leaving himself no way out.

Before Chen Zhan could turn around, his back felt like it was being pricked by needles, and the area around the fan ribs was icy cold.

But he didn't need to turn around. With a stomp of his foot, countless clods of earth flew up from beneath his feet, his muscles and bones twitched, his blood and qi concentrated, and two sandbag-like humps of qi and blood instantly swelled up on his back, while his arms suddenly doubled in size.

The clothes on the back were almost bursting.

This scene was terrifying. From Qin Zhun's perspective, it looked as if a pair of fleshy wings had sprouted from Chen Zhan's back, suddenly bulging out, like a demon god about to spread his wings!
But he didn't have time to dodge the camel's hump, and his fists went straight up to it.

"Bang bang—"

Two heavy blows, like striking thick cowhide.

Chen Zhan leaned forward and turned around, while Qin Zhun was so shocked that his hands went numb and he was jolted back, staggering two steps backward.

Chen Zhan faced him and glanced at him.

Qin Zhun steadied himself, gritted his teeth, forced down the numbness in his arms, and clenched his fists.

The burning desire to avenge his elder brother was instantly extinguished.
so horrible!

He took the full force of his angry blow to his back and only took one step back!
With just one punch, a five-finger-thick iron plate would be pierced, and a piece of bluestone would be shattered, but it couldn't penetrate Chen Zhan's flesh.

He had the idea of ​​escaping, so he turned and ran. The wind howled behind him, and he heard a voice say, "Too late."

Chen Zhan had already closed in. The night was deep, and he caught up with Qin Zhun in just a dozen steps. He threw out two punches, just like Qin Zhun had just done—the Crushing Fist!

Qin Zhun wanted to dodge, but felt he couldn't, and it was too late to catch him.

My mind is in turmoil.

This chaos led to an eternal separation between heaven and man.

His fists were blocked by him, and he was knocked back several steps and crashed into a tree. The tree shook and the shadows swayed, but then Chen Zhan began to strike him at close range.

Bao Dan is still Bao Dan after all; he withstood more than thirty punches before his double fist defense was broken.

Chen Zhan's fist slammed into his chest. He circulated his qi and blood, puffed out his chest, and took a deep breath, trying to withstand the punch.

But ultimately, their skill level was far too low.

With a single punch, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, and Chen Zhan in front of him had vanished.

Qin Zhun's body fell backward and remained silent.

Chen Zhan glanced down. Without pausing, he started walking towards the low hill.

The northern slope of the low hill.

The gunners, who had retreated, redeployed on the low hill, a dozen or so men scattered around the trench ruins and bunkers, their rifles pointed in every direction below.

The two machine guns were adjusted to point at the north and east slopes. The south side was dense forest, and the west side was too steep. Chen Zhan was most likely to come up from the north or east slope.

Two rows of barbed wire were strung up, their barbs gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

Inside the bunker, three masters of the Qingyi Society, skilled in martial arts, stood at the entrance, facing outwards, and assumed their fighting stances.

No one speaks.

The wind rustled through the low hills, and the distant river echoed with the muffled whistles of cargo ships.

A gunman lay prone in the trench, rifle against his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the mudflats on the north slope. The moonlight made the mudflats appear white, and the patterns of the gravel and silt were clearly visible.

His hands were shaking.

After the gunfire from the direction of the dense forest stopped, more and more people became unreachable. First, there were four groups of people on the southern blockade line, then two observation posts at the western end, and then two of the six people at the dock stopped responding.

These people are not missing, they are dead.

Everyone understands this.

"coming."

Someone whispered something.

Under the moonlight, a figure appeared in the direction of the north slope mudflats.

He walked over from the mudflats, his bare feet stepping on the pebbles, his pace unhurried, as if he were taking a stroll.

"Fire!"

More than a dozen rifles fired simultaneously, the gunfire echoing across the low hill, tracer rounds leaving bright trails, all aimed at the figure.

The bullet hit him.

Did you hit it?
At a distance of less than 100 meters, with more than a dozen rifles firing simultaneously, it was impossible for all of them to miss. Some people saw with their own eyes that the bullets hit his shoulder and his chest, and they swore that they hit him.

But the figure vanished the next moment.

The machine guns inside the bunker opened fire, firing wildly into the void.

The light machine gun had a much higher rate of fire than the rifle, and the ammunition belts spewed out, with tracer rounds leaving bright streaks in the night as they hit the gravel on the north slope and the barbed wire.

It felt as if the blow had actually hit Chen Zhan.

The machine gun continued firing, rat-a-tat-tat, the fire snakes constantly spewing forth.

But they were fighting on an open field.

A machine gunner lay prone behind his gun, his finger gripping the trigger tightly, his eyes bloodshot as he stared toward the north slope.

The ammunition belt was fed out section by section, and the spent cartridges bounced out and landed on the concrete ground with a series of crisp sounds.

"There it is!"

Someone shouted, and a dark figure flashed in the moonlight from the direction of Dongpo.

The machine gun in the bunker immediately turned, its muzzle pointing forward, and tracer rounds swept across the pile of rocks on the east slope.

"No, it's over here!"

At the edge of the dense forest to the south, another dark figure flashed by at incredible speed, disappearing from behind one tree to another, revealing its form for less than half a breath.

The three gunmen fired at the same time, the muzzle flashes of their rifles flickering a few times to the south, and the bullets all hit the tree trunks.

The machine gun in the bunker turned again.

Just as the gun barrel turned south, there was movement again from the east slope.

The sound of gravel rolling down, the sound of bushes being pushed aside, footsteps. Real footsteps, making clear sounds as they trod on the gravel ground.

"Turn back! Turn back! It's to the east!"

The machine gun turned again.

The machine gunner twisted the ammunition belt, cursed, and bent down to adjust it.

In the two breaths he lowered his head, a dark figure darted up from the gravel of the mudflats on the north slope, moving as fast as a gust of wind sweeping across the hillside.

By the time the machine gunner looked up, the shadowy figure was no longer on the north slope.

Where is he?

"They're everywhere!"

The gunmen in the trenches began to panic.

Their rifles were pointed in all directions, and everyone was staring in a different direction. Some said they saw someone to the east, some said there was movement in the dense forest to the south, and some said there was a dark shadow on the north slope.

No one could see clearly, and no one could hit accurately. The person in the darkness was like a ghost moving through the mountains and forests, sometimes to the east, sometimes to the west, sometimes to the south, sometimes to the north. Each appearance lasted only a moment, and by the time the gun was turned around, the person had already disappeared.

"boom!"

A gunshot rang out from the trenches on the eastern slope of the hill.

It's not firing outwards.

It was an accidental injury.

One of the gunmen on the east side saw something moving in the bushes ten paces ahead and instinctively pulled the trigger. The bullet hit one of his own men who was retreating from the south. The man rolled into the trench, clutching his shoulders and cursing under his breath.

"Stop hitting me! It's me! I'm one of your own!"

"Dongpo's side are our own people, don't fight! Don't fight!"

Before the shout had even finished, a muffled groan came from the side of the western bunker.

A gunman fell in the trench, his cervical vertebrae shattered, face down, his rifle sliding two feet away from his hand.

No one saw when it happened, no one saw where the figure came from, how it came, or from which direction it approached.

When the people nearby noticed he had fallen and turned to look, they heard another sound of bones breaking coming from the bushes behind them. Another person had fallen.

Panic spread across the hills.

These Kuomintang gunmen were not new recruits; they had undergone training, practiced target shooting, and some had even fought against the Japanese.

But they had never encountered such an enemy before, someone who moved without a trace in the dark, someone who could not be hit by a gun, cut by a knife, or even have their direction determined.

Some people crawled out of the trenches and ran down the mountain.

The first person to run inspired the second, and the second inspired the third.

Of the dozen or so gunmen outside the bunker, half of them ran away.

They rolled down the mudflats and into the dense forest, throwing away their guns and wanting nothing more than to get as far away from the island as possible.

Only five or six people remained outside the bunker, along with two machine gunners inside.

There are also five members of the Tsing Yi Society.

Three experts at the Transformation Realm guarded the entrance to the bunker, while two others stood guard on its side.

The oldest man in the center of the bunker entrance, over fifty years old and at the mid-stage of the Transformation Realm, stood with his right foot forward and left foot back, firmly planted in the Three-Body Stance, his Qi and blood sinking to his Dantian.

He ignored the darkness outside, closed his eyes, and used his strength to sense the fluctuations of energy around him.

While his perception of the Transformation Realm was not as strong as that of the Embracing the Elixir Realm, he could still sense the flow of blood and qi in a living person within ten steps.

It won't work beyond ten steps.

Chen Zhan walked over from about fifteen steps away.

When the old man opened his eyes, Chen Zhan was already five steps in front of him.

The moonlight shone on Chen Zhan's face, a face that looked to be in his twenties. He was barefoot, his wet clothes clung to his body, and there wasn't a single drop of blood on him. He had killed so many people, yet not a single drop of blood had been spilled on him.

The old man threw a punch, the force rising from the ground and penetrating through each joint. His fist was covered with a layer of penetrating internal energy. Once it hit, the force would penetrate through the skin and flesh and go straight into the internal organs. If an ordinary master of internal energy were to be hit by this punch, he would suffer internal injuries at best, and vomit blood on the spot at worst.

His fist struck Chen Zhan in the chest.

It really hit.

The fist slammed into the sternum, and the sensation returned, revealing that the density of the tendons and bones beneath the skin was far beyond that of an ordinary person, as thick as a rammed earth wall.

His full-force punch landed on Chen Zhan like a pebble thrown into the ocean.

Before the old man could retract his fist, Chen Zhan's right hand had already gripped his wrist.

With fingers clenched, the wrist bones cracked in the palm.

The old man's face contorted for a moment, and his left hand immediately followed up, striking Chen Zhan's neck with a palm strike. He knew that this strike wouldn't work, but if he didn't strike, he would only be waiting to die.

Chen Zhan tilted his head, and the palm brushed past his ear.

Then Chen Zhan slapped the old man's crown with his left palm.

With palms pressed against the top of the head, force is channeled downwards.

The old man's body trembled from head to toe as if struck by lightning. His legs went weak, and he knelt down, then fell forward, his face hitting the gravel.

The expert on the left side of the bunker entrance saw the old man fall, roared and rushed forward, punching Chen Zhan in the face.

Chen Zhan stepped aside and casually slapped him on the side.

The palm struck, breaking four ribs in quick succession. The broken bone fragments pierced the skin, seeping through the clothes, stained with blood.

The man screamed and fell to the ground, rolling twice before curling up into a ball and never getting up again.

The one on the right didn't rush up.

They took a step back, and then took another step back.

The deep-seated fear is the body's spontaneous survival response after witnessing fellow disciples being killed or maimed in a single move.

Chen Zhan glanced at him.

As I walked over, the man instinctively raised his fists to his chest.

Chen Zhan's hand slipped between his fists, his palm pressed against his chest, and he gave him a gentle push.

With just a push, the hidden force penetrated into his heart.

The force of the push sent him flying three zhang away, where he landed on the slope of the low hill and rolled several times before disappearing into the bushes halfway up the hillside.

The two members of the Blue Robe Society on the side of the bunker exchanged a glance.

He turned and ran, running down the mountain.
Chen Zhan did not chase after him.

Inside the bunker, two machine gunners huddled behind their machine guns, their faces pale. They could have fired before, but now that Chen Zhan was below the bunker, their line of sight was gone, and they could only listen.

The sounds of fighting and screams outside drifted in clearly; the enemy, whom the bullets couldn't hit, was about to walk into the bunker.

"Run! Run!"

A machine gunner climbed out of the back window of the bunker and scrambled down the mountain.

The other one's legs went weak, and he couldn't stand up. He leaned against the ammunition box, his lips trembling.

There was a brief silence outside the bunker.

Then the front wall of the bunker began to shake.

The cement wall, a permanent fortification built by the Japanese army, is half a meter thick reinforced concrete. It has withstood ten years of weathering and rain erosion, but the main structure is still intact. Rifle bullets can only leave a white dot on it.

When the first tremor occurred, a crack appeared on the wall, running from top to bottom and penetrating the entire wall.

The second time, the crack widened, and debris fell out of the crack, raising cement dust that looked hazy in the moonlight.

On the third strike, half of the wall collapsed.

Pieces of reinforced concrete rolled down with a rumble, crashing onto the gravel ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

On the exposed cross-section, the twisted steel bars were bent like braids, and there were five deep finger marks on the edge of the cement block, left by fingers digging into the cement and tearing off the wall piece by piece.

Moonlight streamed in through the collapsed walls, illuminating the interior of the bunker.

Chen Zhan stood at the gap in the collapsed wall, dust settling on his hair and shoulders, his bare feet stepping on the broken cement blocks.

The machine gunner inside the bunker looked at the scene before him, opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a sound.

Chen Zhan walked into the bunker, went to the machine gun, grabbed the barrel with one hand, and bent it downwards, the steel barrel bending into an arc in his hand.

The other one was the same; the barrel was twisted into a pretzel.

He walked out of the bunker.

The low hill outside the bunker was quiet.

Bodies were scattered among the wreckage and rubble of the trenches, and those who escaped disappeared into the night.

Chen Zhan stood in front of the bunker and glanced around.

The deserters were scattered everywhere, some hiding in the dense forest, some lying on the mudflats, some were trembling, and some had already thrown away their guns and were crawling towards the sea, trying to find a boat to escape.

Those people are not important.

Chen Zhan walked to the other side of the low hill, followed the ridge for several dozen steps, and bypassed the ruins of the bunker.

Chen Zuyan is there.

He sat on a rock, his uniform covered in cement dust, holding a Browning M1935 rifle with the muzzle pointing downwards on his knees.

He looked up when he heard footsteps.

Chen Zhan walked over and stopped three steps away from him.

The two people gazed at each other in the moonlight.

Chen Zuyan's face was very pale, but her expression was very calm.

It wasn't composure, it was acceptance.

Chen Zhan glanced at the gun in his hand, but didn't pay it any mind. "There must be a backup plan, right? You know me, you know this level isn't enough."

Chen Zuyan didn't reply. She lit a cigarette, took a puff, and looked at the water in the distance. The moonlight shone on the water, making it sparkle. In the distance, the lights of cargo ships were moving slowly.

"Yes, but it seems they didn't come."

They were talking as if they were sitting in a teahouse, very calmly.

"Brother Zu Yan."

"You don't think I'm not going to kill you, do you?" (End of Chapter)