A head-on clash? That was nothing but a bluff to fool Ma Zhu. If he truly went toe-to-toe with Ma Zhu, Wei Zhao would only be courting death.

"Haha, die!" Ma Zhu was gloating, certain his fist was about to land on Wei Zhao, when he abruptly discovered that the man before him had vanished. Ma Zhu froze. "Huh? Where did he go?"

"Right here!" Wei Zhao's words came with a tremendous bang as both his fists slammed into Ma Zhu's back, square over the heart.

Wei Zhao had poured every ounce of strength into those two punches, holding nothing back, pushing his power to its utmost — all to deal Ma Zhu a grievous wound. Had Ma Zhu been an Earth-rank expert, the strike would at most have left him lightly hurt; but as it stood the two men differed by a full rank, and at full force, though Wei Zhao could not kill him, he would surely leave him badly wounded.

Such was Wei Zhao's plan: ambush Ma Zhu again and again, and surely the man would fall. He might be the stronger, but Wei Zhao simply need not meet him head-on.

His master had once said: if the enemy is stronger than you, evade his edge, and strike where he least expects it. To hell with the rules of the martial world — for a killer, such talk was so much nonsense. A killer's only end was to kill his mark, not to honor some code of the rivers and lakes.

Wei Zhao's fists came crashing down on Ma Zhu's back — and yet in that very instant his face turned hideous. For he felt as though his fists had struck an iron plate; it was as if he had not struck a human body at all.

What was more, the recoil that came surging back from that iron plate shook Wei Zhao to the bone.

"Pff—" A mouthful of fresh blood burst from Wei Zhao's lips. Plainly, part of the force he had unleashed had rebounded onto himself.

Shocked as he was, Wei Zhao did not linger on his feet. The instant his blow landed, he sprang back.

Sure enough, the very moment Wei Zhao slipped away, Ma Zhu swung around with a fist and smashed at the spot — and struck nothing but air.

"Kid, you're quick on your feet, hahahaha!" Ma Zhu roared with laughter. "How does it feel? Pretty good, isn't it? Tsk, tsk — coughing blood already. Looks like that punch of yours packed some power. Too bad you only reaped what you sowed, eh? Hahahaha!"

Wei Zhao stared at Ma Zhu in alarm, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Ma Zhu showed not the slightest sign of injury; from the look of him, those two punches might never have landed.

"You... you're not hurt?" Wei Zhao drew a deep breath before he could steady himself. He smiled bitterly within. He had gone for wool and come home shorn — most of the force he had driven into Ma Zhu had come right back on him.

"No harm in telling you. My Golden Bell Shield has reached the eighth level!" Ma Zhu looked at Wei Zhao with scorn. "I don't fear your blows. One hit from me and you're dead. Fun, isn't it? Wahahahaha! What can you do about it?"

"The eighth level of the Golden Bell Shield! No wonder..." Enlightenment dawned on Wei Zhao. No wonder Ma Zhu had been utterly unharmed after he struck him, while he himself was the one left bleeding — the man was a cultivator of the Golden Bell Shield!

Few trained in such an art, for before the Golden Bell Shield is mastered there lies a long and bitter road: one must first torment the mind and weary the flesh, enduring untold suffering. Without an iron will, no one could ever bring it to fruition.

Seeing Wei Zhao beaten back again and again, coughing blood besides, Zhen Yingjun cheered in delight. "Master Ma is mighty, Master Ma is badass — kill this brat!"

Gu Mengyao and Shen Yushu all but stopped breathing. In their eyes Wei Zhao had always been an invincible presence, and yet Wei Zhao had coughed blood! And he had coughed it while attacking another — not while being attacked.

This was strange indeed. Yet strange as it was, Gu Mengyao and Shen Yushu understood that Ma Zhu must be stronger than Wei Zhao — for Ma Zhu appeared not to be hurt at all.

"Wei Zhao!" Seeing him wounded, Gu Mengyao's heart clenched. There was still a bullet wound in his leg! She knew that if he had not come to save her, he would never have been hurt, never have had to pit himself against Ma Zhu. Why did he protect her like this? For a salary of thirty thousand? He had no need to do any of it.

"Ha!" Wei Zhao smiled at the young mistress, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and said, "Once I've killed him, I'll take you both home."

In that instant Gu Mengyao's eyes grew wet, and tears welled up despite herself. He was always so good to her...

"Mm!" Gu Mengyao nodded hard. "We'll go home together..."

"Kill me? How ridiculous." Ma Zhu scoffed at Wei Zhao's words. "I'll stand right here and let you hit me. Can you kill me?"

Wei Zhao watched Ma Zhu warily, turning countermeasures over in his mind. Ma Zhu was, without question, the most formidable foe he had met since coming to Songshan City — not only a rank above him, but a cultivator of the Golden Bell Shield besides. Which meant every blow was useless against him; unless Wei Zhao could surpass Ma Zhu in strength, he stood no chance at all.

What was he to do? Wei Zhao found himself caught in a dilemma. In the past, when he ran his missions, he had held to the principle of running when he could not win, and it had cost him no grief — for his master had said that while there is life, there is hope.

But today Wei Zhao could not run. If he fled, what would become of the young mistress and Xiaoshu? Could he leave them behind and think no more of it? He could not.

Wei Zhao was certain that if he simply fled, a man as arrogant as Ma Zhu would never let Gu Mengyao and Shen Yushu go. And who knew what Zhen Yingjun might be capable of?

Wei Zhao silently circulated the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art, mending the internal injuries he had just taken, but since he had not entered the space within the jade pendant, the effect was negligible.

"What? Not fighting? If you won't hit me, then I'll hit you!" Ma Zhu laughed and came at Wei Zhao once more.

Wei Zhao nimbly slipped aside again before Ma Zhu's form could close in, but there was anxiety in his eyes. This could not go on — surely he was not meant to keep trading blows with Ma Zhu forever?

Yet apart from relying on his nimble footwork to dodge Ma Zhu's attacks, Wei Zhao truly did not know what else he could do.

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