activa-t Chapter 30 Cage Fight in the Train Carriage
Chapter 30 Cage Fight in the Train Carriage
There is no flowing river or neon reflection behind the door.
Only sections of old, dust-covered carriages and rusted tracks remained suspended in mid-air, motionless.
Most of the green paint had peeled off, revealing dark red rust underneath.
There is no water train at all.
It's all a bluffing trick.
They deliberately create mystery to keep people guessing.
Zhou Xing kicked open the door of one of the actual train carriages.
He didn't have time to look closely; he crouched down and crawled into the carriage, hurrying after Tao Zhugong in the direction he had boarded.
A foul stench rushed in through the breach behind them.
The river demon "Liang Mancang" couldn't squeeze through the door, but several slippery tentacles had already reached in and were wildly swinging around inside the carriage!
"What is that?!"
"The stuff from the sluice gate has come up!"
"How did the door get broken?!"
The carriage immediately erupted in chaos.
Those dozing in the corner, trading by the window, and squatting on the ground counting money all jumped up.
The shelves overturned, bottles and jars fell, and glass boxes shattered all over the floor.
Several men carrying weapons grabbed knives, but when they saw the thing as thick as a water bucket, their feet felt like they were nailed to the ground.
The tentacles swept across the luggage rack, and a man in a gray long-sleeved shirt slowed his pace by half a step, his arm being grazed by the edge of the tentacle.
The sleeves, along with the skin and flesh, shrank instantly, revealing the white bone stubble.
He froze for a moment before letting out a scream.
People and horses were thrown into chaos, everything was in complete disarray.
Zhou Xing rushed forward amidst the chaos.
No one dared to stop him.
He was covered in blood, holding a short knife, his eyes as cold as iron in the twelfth lunar month.
The crowd receded sharply to both sides like a wave being split open, with some even sliding under their seats.
As we passed through the connection between the two carriages, there was a loud clang.
Zhou Xing saw Tao Zhugong.
The fat man was in front of another tightly closed iron gate at the back of the car, frantically fiddling with the cracked bronze abacus and gesturing towards the lock.
His head was covered in oily sweat, and his fingers were trembling.
Upon hearing footsteps, Tao Zhugong turned around abruptly.
Upon seeing Zhou Xing, he froze, his face turning as white as paper.
But instead of running away, he stood up straight, put the abacus back in his sleeve, and tugged at his blood-stained clothes.
"Brother Zhou,"
Tao Zhu opened his mouth, his voice gradually calming, "Even if a deal falls through, goodwill can still prevail. Why be so ruthless?"
Zhou Xing stopped five steps away, the tip of his knife hanging down, without saying a word.
Tao Zhugong's eyes lit up when he saw that he didn't act immediately, and he spoke faster:
"I'll tear up that contract now. If anything happens in the future, I'll inform you first."
"The price is negotiable. It doesn't require any luck; just bring anyone who's breathing, and that'll settle the debt."
He spoke earnestly, as if discussing a fair deal at a counter.
Zhou Xing shook his head.
Tao Zhugong's face darkened, and the flesh on his cheek twitched:
"This is already a bargain! To me, ordinary people are nothing more than medicinal herbs, worth only a few coins. Brother Zhou, you're too greedy..."
"You look like a cabbage to me."
Zhou Xing interrupted him, then laughed in exasperation:
"You people always talk to yourselves without caring what others are saying."
I said, the police are handling a case today. You, Tao Zhugong, have been buying and selling human lives, robbing people of their opportunities, and raising ghosts to harm them. Your crimes deserve death; execute you on the spot.
Tao Zhugong's fat face twitched a few times, and his eyes turned completely cold:
"So there's no room for negotiation?"
"Talk to it."
Zhou Xing raised the knife in his hand.
Tao Zhugong suddenly took a step back and shouted at the top of his lungs into the carriage:
"Everyone! This river demon was brought here by this brat! Kill him, and the monster will retreat on its own!"
Whoever takes his life, I'll grant them a "Great Fortune Divination" and a priceless life-saving artifact!
The sound echoed through the carriage.
There was a moment of silence.
Several gazes took on a different meaning.
On the left, by the window, a black-robed guard who had been huddled up slowly straightened up and drew a slender Miao sword from behind his waist.
The other person who was squatting at the end of the aisle also stood up, now holding an old-fashioned handgun.
A little further away, three sorcerers huddled together, fiddling with several packets of powder. They exchanged glances, nodded, and pulled out bone bells, talismans, and emerald-green short blades from their robes.
Further away, some people were also stirring.
With a hefty reward, there will always be those who value money over their lives.
Zhou Xing raised an eyebrow and twirled the short knife in his palm.
"Perfect."
He said, "We didn't get to move around much just now."
The voice just fell.
The first to rush forward were the black-robed guards on the left, their Miao swords whistling through the air as they aimed straight for Zhou Xing's weak spot.
The knife is sharp and poisonous.
Zhou Xingting had already sensed where the wind from the blade was rising.
Instead of retreating, he advanced, taking a half-step forward with his left foot and cutting into the opponent's center, his left hand moving like a snake to grasp the wrist of the person holding the knife.
Wing Chun spreads his hands, with one finger hooked and the other pressed.
The opponent's wrist went sore, and the knife's momentum veered off course.
Zhou Xing found the center of gravity and pulled the guard forward, causing him to stagger.
Just then, a loud "bang" rang out from the right, and another black-robed musket spit out a flash of light.
The lead bullet struck the black-robed companion on the back, tearing flesh apart.
Zhou Xing pushed the corpse forward, lowered his body, and squatted down.
A black, severed finger flew past my scalp and struck the window of the car opposite, shattering the glass.
As he crouched down, his right leg shot back like a scorpion's tail, his heel striking the side of the guard's knee.
"Snap!"
The guard screamed and knelt down.
Zhou Xing stood up, swung his knife back, and slashed across his neck.
Black oil sprayed out and splattered onto the faded velvet seats.
The three sorcerers' attack was imminent.
A bone bell was shaken, its high-pitched sound drilling straight into the brain.
Zhou Xing felt a stab between his eyebrows and a throbbing sensation in his temples, slowing his movements by half a beat.
Another one threw out a handful of foul-smelling black powder, which ignited upon contact with the wind, turning into several writhing fire snakes that lunged forward.
The third one crouched down behind him and stabbed Zhou Xing with a poisoned short blade at his waist.
Zhou Xing frowned, his fist intent gathering between his brows, and anger burning in his heart.
He shuddered, breaking free from the mental intrusion of the bone bell.
As the fire snake attacked, he kicked over a small wooden table next to him.
Several bottles and jars on the table flew up, one of them, an earthenware pot, smashing against the opposite chair with a "crack."
The pungent, viscous liquid was splashed out, and the fire snake, upon contact with it, exploded into flames with a "boom," instead engulfing the caster himself.
The sorcerer cried out and patted the flames off his body.
Zhou Xing used his strength to lock down the attacker from behind.
Just as the poisoned blade was about to strike, he twisted his waist to dodge the blade, and with his right hand, he gripped the opponent's wrist like an iron clamp, twisting and pressing it down.
"Click."
My wrist bone is broken.
The short blade landed.
Zhou Xing then swung him up and slammed him down on the sorcerer who was ringing the bell.
The two rolled around in a ball.
Seeing that things were not going well, the second sorcerer took out a piece of purplish-black talisman paper, bit his fingertip, and was about to draw it.
Why should Zhou Xing give him time?
He flicked a brass pipe off the ground with his toe and kicked it out into the air.
The pipe, swift as an arrow, plunged precisely into the sorcerer's throat.
The sorcerer clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground, the talisman fluttering down.
Zhou Xing was like a cat with its fur standing on end, its whole body covered in eyes.
Encountering an enemy is like being on fire.
It describes quick reflexes, striking back to gain the upper hand, and bursting forth as if on fire.
More and more people joined the attack.
"Get him! I'll pay more!"
"Block both sides!"
"Don't be afraid! He's all alone!"
Zhou Xing no longer cared about the consumption of his Qi and blood, and went all out.
Despite the cramped carriage, he moved nimbly between the seats like a fish swimming.
Spread your hand to deflect a straight thrust, raise your arm to parry a chop, use your hand as a pillow to block a hidden weapon, and use your hand as a plow to cut off the path below.
The inch force bursts forth between the fist, palm, elbow, and knee, combined with the powerful force of the peak of Ming Jin, and the one hit will fall instantly.
The lamplight flickered, and shadows darted about; the carriage was in complete chaos.
Clang! Bang! Crack! Sizzle—
Muffled groans, screams, and the sound of a spell abruptly cut off halfway through.
The porcelain jar shattered, and the wooden frame collapsed.
Then, all was quiet.
All that remained was the crackling of the burning lamp wick, the dripping of blood, and the muffled thud of the river demon's tentacles slapping against the door frame outside the tailgate, one slap after another.
A dim yellow light shone down from the ceiling of the compartment.
Zhou Xing stood in the middle of the aisle, half of his body in the light and half in the shadow.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing deep and steady.
The short sword in his right hand hung limply, blood flowing down the groove of the blade.
His left hand hung at his side, and a white mark on the back of his hand was fading rapidly.
The gray cloth shorts were soaked with sweat and blood, clinging tightly to the body and accentuating the taut lines of the shoulders and back.
A few drops of blood splattered on his face, running diagonally from his eyebrow to his chin, making his angular face appear cold and hard as iron in the lamplight.
All around.
Several bodies were lying crookedly in the aisle, some with their necks twisted like pretzels, and others with their chests sunken into bowl-sized craters.
Several pieces of "clothes" were draped on the seats.
There was one slumped over the back of a chair, another curled up in the seat, and yet another folded up, clutching a half-burnt talisman in their hand, a tiny ember flickering at the corner.
There were two things under the shelf, their condition unknown, with four legs sticking out and one shoe missing.
In the middle of the aisle, there were two people piled on top of each other, each with a dagger stuck in their chest.
Scattered haphazardly.
No one could vent their anger.
Bloodstains were splattered everywhere.
The walls of the carriage, the velvet seats, and even the glass shade of the gas lamp overhead were adorned with a few dark red spots.
Blood seeped from beneath them, pooling in the cracks between the bricks to form a dark red stream that slowly flowed downhill.
Zhou Xing raised his eyes and looked at Tao Zhugong at the back of the carriage.