Urbaner Blumentraum - Kapitel 9
The thin back of the blade, the curved handle, the edge reflecting the moonlight—it was a spring night, yet it felt as cold as autumn water.
Zhang Buchi suddenly sneered: "Who are you?"
The man in black remained silent, staring blankly at the man's fat neck, seemingly searching for a suitable spot to make a cut.
His gaze was as sinister as a snake's eyes, and Zhang Buchi felt a chill run down his neck. He involuntarily swallowed.
"Are you here for my brother?"
The man in black still did not speak.
The night was quiet.
The only sound was the sound of blood flowing down from above, drop by drop, falling to the ground.
Zhang Buchi gripped his hooks tightly, his mind slightly unsettled: Why hasn't my brother Wang Buhe made a move all this time? Could it be…?
He suddenly leaped up and charged forward, unleashing a move called "Wearing Black Robes and Shaving Hair," attacking the man in black, hook and all. While still in mid-air, he suddenly felt his left foot tighten, as if it had been entangled by something, and then he was pulled downwards by a great force.
After landing, Zhang Buchi rolled over, his left hand twisting the hook until it was wrapped around a black whip. With a sudden burst of strength, the whip seemed to come alive, and his left hook flew out of his hand, but at least the whip tip binding his foot was freed.
Four figures slowly emerged from the open space, all dressed in the same black clothes and black headscarves, but with different weapons. In addition to the one who used a knife, there was another who used a whip, a hammer, and one who was empty-handed.
Zhang Buchi was secretly alarmed. He didn't know where these people came from. He hadn't fought them yet, but judging from the power of that whip strike, he was certain he was no match for them. Assuming their skills were evenly matched, he might be able to barely handle one person; two, and he would surely be defeated; three, and he wouldn't be able to escape; and four, he would only have to close his eyes and wait for death, not even bothering to struggle for his life.
My brother Wang Buhe's martial arts skills are still below my own, and now he is completely silent, so I'm afraid he has met with misfortune!
Zhang Buchi felt a pang of pain in his heart.
Brothers who neither eat nor drink may be nobodies in the martial arts world, but they are well-known figures in Qingyang City.
The two brothers have been hanging out in the streets and alleys of Qingyang City since they were six years old. Whether it's helping someone in distress or rescuing someone in danger, they've always been inseparable. It's been almost thirty years now.
For thirty years, the two brothers had endured cold and hunger together, and shared good food and drink. They had been scolded and beaten, and loved and respected. Their lives had been quite fulfilling, and they had no regrets. However, while the brothers themselves were not worth pitying, the origins of these men in black were mysterious, and they had to be wary of them...
In a flash, Zhang Buchi, panting, raised his head and asked in a hoarse voice, "Where is my brother?"
A massive body landed with a thud in front of him, its head shattered, its chest and abdomen ripped open, its internal organs spilling out, and the blood that splattered out was still warm.
Zhang Buchi reached out and stroked the corpse, tears welling in his eyes: "Good brother, I'm so sorry!"
With a loud shout, he struck Wang Buhe's corpse, which then lunged at the men in black. Zhang Buchi sprang into action, retreating towards a pond to the right. However, after only running a few meters, he was struck heavily in the back by a punch.
He spat out a mouthful of blood, but ignored it. Using the force of his punch, he charged forward a few more steps, and with his last bit of strength, he threw the bamboo tube in his hand into the air.
In the still of the night, the bamboo tube shot into the sky, emitting a high-pitched and strange whistling sound.
A knife slashed down from Zhang Buchi's shoulder, his weapon flew out of his hand, and then his right arm, along with half a rib, flew off.
Zhang Buchi rolled a few times on the wasteland, then lay on his back with a slight smile on his lips. Although his brother was dead, he had still bought him a little time. And that brief delay was enough for him to unleash his specially made alarm fireworks.
The last image in his eyes was of golden fireworks blooming across the night sky.
The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Part One: The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Chapter 3 (8)
Now, the brothers from Jietianshui Island should know, right?
Before seeing the fireworks fill the sky, Feng Xuese was standing in the Shili Pavilion in Qingyang City, admiring the moon while waiting for an old friend.
The moon rises above the willow branches, and lovers meet after dusk—what a beautiful scene, and he actually used it for a date.
The poet was waiting for a beautiful woman, so even in the desolate wilderness, his heart was filled with tenderness. But the person he was waiting for turned out to be a bald monk!
Master Kongkong was actually a fake monk.
Thinking of him brings a slight warmth to Maple Snow's heart.
Three years ago, during a locust plague in Southwest China, he worked tirelessly to raise funds for disaster relief, but a misunderstanding led to a fight with Kong Kong, who was also on a relief mission.
At that time, Kongkong was not yet the monk Kongkong, but the most famous swordsman in the Southwest, with the surname Xiye and the given name Yan.
One is a paragon of the righteous path, the other a ruthless figure in the underworld. These two hot-blooded young men meet under less than ideal circumstances, neither willing to concede to the other. So they make a bet: within three days, they must raise the most money independently, without any external assistance. The one who raises the most money wins, while the loser must become a monk at the Great Compassion Temple on West Peak for three years.
Nishino En lost.
So he used his thin, paper-sharp Forget-Worries Blade to shave his head, went to the Great Compassion Temple, bowed to the Buddha statue, acknowledged the Buddha statue as his leader, and even gave himself a seemingly learned name—Master Kongkong.
The saying goes, "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form."
This year marks the third year.
In just three more months, Master Kongkong will be able to return to secular life—which really just means growing his hair back. In the three years he's been a monk, he hasn't recited a single sutra or followed a single precept; he's been more carefree than when he was a gangster tyrant.
The thought of Master Kongkong with his bald head and sanctimonious appearance brought a slight smile to his snow-white lips.
Just then, he saw a burst of brilliant fireworks suddenly explode in the night sky, like a cluster of golden coral blooming in the deep blue night sea, followed by a sharp and high-pitched bamboo whistling sound.
Feng Xuese's expression changed slightly, and before the fireworks had even dissipated, he had already flown towards the spot where the fireworks had risen.
He and Fang Jianwu had always been on good terms, so of course he knew that these coral fireworks were the alarm fireworks for Tianshui Island.
The fireworks were not close to him, but they weren't far either.
His movements were as swift as lightning, leaping and darting about, appearing like a large silver bird in the moonlight, his snow-white robes fluttering in the wind.
Suddenly, flames shot into the night sky again.
Although he was speeding along, Maple Snow's figure suddenly stopped, standing quietly in the grass. The daisies at his feet didn't even sway, as if he had never moved at all.