Lu Xuanming could discern the direction of an attack by analyzing the airflow created when a blade sliced through the air and preemptively activate his 'Iron Garment' for defense... but he couldn't anticipate the trajectory of a bullet.
Hence, he was hit.
The bullet pierced his thigh, causing Lu Xuanming to lose his balance completely. A forceful kick sent him flying!
As dust billowed around him, blinding Lu Xuanming, he crashed heavily to the ground.
He instinctively sat up, but now thoroughly disoriented, he had no idea from which direction his enemy would strike next... Blood trickled steadily from the bullet wound in his thigh, turning his face ashen.
Was this the oppressive presence of a Third-Order cultivator? Even the Path of the Thief, not known for combat prowess, proved too much for a First-Order cultivator to handle.
On the desolate plain, Number 8 approached Lu Xuanming with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, his expression impassive.
He silently raised his gun, aiming at Lu Xuanming's forehead, who was on high alert in the darkness. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a voice interrupted from the side.
"Is this the last one left?"
Number 8 froze, turning to see Jian Changsheng, covered in blood, staring at him intently from a distance. His scarred face was etched with excitement and eagerness.
"Killing this one... should count as a major achievement, right?"
He let out a loud laugh and charged towards them like a bloodied arrow, his speed unmatched. Even with the 'Iron Garment' activated, Lu Xuanming couldn't keep up. Jian Changsheng covered several dozen meters in a blur and stood before Number 8, who immediately fired several shots at him!
The bullets hit Jian Changsheng, but his speed only increased, his bloody fist crashing towards Number 8!
"Steal 'Light'!"
Without hesitation, Number 8 activated his skill once more.
Suddenly plunged into darkness, Jian Changsheng stumbled around blindly, just like Lu Xuanming. Just as Number 8 began to relax slightly, a powerful punch like a boulder slammed into his chest!
The blow broke two of Number 8's ribs, and he spat out a mouthful of blood, collapsing to the ground.
Lu Xuanming, with his eyes closed, somehow found his way to Number 8's side. A dark fist hovered in mid-air, coldly facing Number 8.
"Your voice gave away your position," he said calmly.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Number 8 climbed to his feet, his eyes filled with malice. Just then, a sheet of rice paper silently drifted overhead.
"Freeze."
The blood-scribed characters gradually faded away, leaving an empty-handed Pu Wen standing nearby, his hand clenched in a gesture of incantation.
Number 8's body instantly froze in place like a statue.
Two blindfolded law enforcers and a petrified Fire Tamperer created an eerie silence on the battlefield...
After a few seconds, Lu Xuanming was the first to regain his sight and charged at Number 8 like a cannonball. The latter broke free half a second later, stealing Lu Xuanming's vision again and firing three consecutive shots with his free hand!
"Damn it! Can he steal without limit?" Lu Xuanming cursed silently.
The bullets whizzed into Lu Xuanming's body, two deflected by the randomly activated 'Iron Garment', the last piercing his shoulder. His arm, which had been clenched in a fist, sagged limply.
Number 8 reached for his gun to fire again but found the magazine empty. Helplessly, he discarded it, only to be hit with a searing pain in his abdomen!
Jian Changsheng's punch shattered Number 8's kidneys, and he promptly wrapped his arms around the latter's waist, violently slamming him to the ground!
"Now, how are you going to run away?" he sneered.
Jian Changsheng, whose vision was stolen later and hadn't recovered yet, had tracked down Number 8 by following the gunshots. He had punched him, shattering his internal organs and now straddled him.
Despite Number 8's prowess, he couldn't match the combined strength of two opponents. Though he had grievously injured Lu Xuanming, Jian Changsheng managed to flank him. With a fierce glare, Number 8 stole Jian Changsheng's dagger and stabbed frantically at his body!
Ignoring Number 8's attacks, Jian Changsheng laughed loudly and relentlessly pounded Number 8 with his bloody fists, clearly willing to trade injuries for victory!
At first, Number 8 managed to land a few vital stabs, but after taking several punches, he became disoriented, eventually lying helplessly on the ground as a barrage of punches rained down on him.
Every punch landed with bone-crushing force!
Pu Wen, who had used up all his rice paper, stared at the gruesome scene with a furrowed brow. He recognized Jian Changsheng but couldn't fathom what had transformed him from a timid lackey into such a ruthless brute...
"Enough!" Pu Wen shouted.
But Jian Changsheng seemed not to hear, delivering several more brutal punches before finally stopping. He gazed down at the battered form of Number 8 beneath him, then slowly stood up...
"It's over..." he said. "I killed this Fire Tamperer! The glory is mine!"
He looked at Pu Wen, announcing his claim.
"No one will take your credit," Pu Wen replied, scanning the surroundings. "By the way, have you seen Yan Xicai?"
"Yes, he was killed by a Fire Tamperer."
Pu Wen frowned upon hearing this news, his gaze piercing into Jian Changsheng's eyes, trying to read him... The latter stared back fearlessly, his scarred face inscrutable.
Meanwhile, Lu Xuanming let out a sigh of relief, struggling to his feet and staggering to a nearby hill to survey the landscape.
"...They're all dead."
"What?"
"Everyone's dead," Lu Xuanming said, looking out over the battlefield of the Ancient Treasure of the Martial Path. "Only the three of us survived."
Pu Wen and Jian Changsheng were stunned and joined Lu Xuanming on the hill. All they saw were blood and corpses... Neither Fire Tamperers nor law enforcers remained standing.
In the end, the law enforcers emerged victorious, albeit with devastating losses.
The three bloodied figures stood side by side on the hilltop, the breeze rustling their clothing.
A 'Shura', a 'Celestial Wolf', and a scholar... They were the final victors in this world.
Pu Wen looked uneasy. Though he disliked Yan Xicai, he had been hired by him. Yan Xicai's death in the Ancient Treasure would surely cause chaos in Aurora City, and Pu Wen might face repercussions.
Lu Xuanming remained expressionless, though his face was pale from blood loss.
As for Jian Changsheng, he surveyed the sea of corpses, fell silent for a few seconds, then burst into laughter:
"I am the ultimate winner."
Clap, clap, clap...
In the midst of the eerie silence, applause echoed from behind.
The three turned in surprise.
A figure clad in a bright red opera robe had somehow perched atop a blood-stained boulder, smiling down at them and clapping his hands adorned with a ruby ring, like a genuinely admiring audience member.
"Impressive," he smiled.
"I think I understand the joy of being a 'spectator' now."