Chapter 57 — The Mistress of the Flower Lane
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 2
"Young Master, your fire blades will come off the worse. The White Tiger qi is sharper!
" Shen Mu's eyes flickered; the flowing firelight of his palms streamed down and spread over his forearms, as though he too held reversed blades.
Third form of the Slaughtering Blade Art — Draw the Blade Beyond the Forbidden Gate! The two were almost body against body, their feet shifting without pause, closing on each other to strike, hardly using their eyes, sensing the opponent's movements only from the force passed through the opponent's body, and then responding — parrying, or striking out. To hold a blade reversed is to be close: tight, close-quarters knife work, small arcs, high speed, vicious angles! This was the highest level of combat arts, the manner of a decisive battle.
Whether one belonged to the spell schools or the divine-ability schools, let an expert of the combat-technique school close to this distance and death was certain! Every muscle in Shen Mu's body quivered without cease; six hundred and forty muscles leapt beneath his skin, giving him the greatest explosive force at the shortest distance!
In but a brief moment, both he and the woman butcher were drenched in sweat. To muster so many muscles in so short a time, to calculate the trajectories of the opponent's muscles, to guard against the opponent's most vicious attacks, and still to cut down the opponent — for them a brief moment was no less than a fierce battle, an enormous expenditure! Suddenly Shen Mu used his hand as a blade; his palm slipped into the woman butcher's opening, and with a bow stance he raised the blade and cut clean through the greasy apron across her chest.
The woman butcher stepped back a pace, dispersed the White Tiger qi from both hands, took off the apron now reduced to two flaps and threw it aside, and laughed heartily. "I lose, you win.
Your blade work isn't bad. If you can't get through all three hundred and sixty rooms, why not come out with me? Killing pigs can keep a family too. " Shen Mu had rather taken to this plump elder sister. He smiled.
"I can also refine medicines. I needn't necessarily kill pigs; I could be a physician who hangs up his gourd to heal the world.
" The woman butcher spat out the bone splinter she used for picking teeth and sneered. "A physician? Treat someone and kill them, and when the grieving family raises a hue and cry they'll sue you into beggary! Killing pigs is better — steady gain, no loss. Come kill pigs with me and I'll see you eat and drink your fill!
" Shen Mu's head swelled. He hurried to the door, stammering, "Well and good, well and good.
I'm still young. . . " "Young Master!
" The woman butcher raised her hand, pulled the two slaughtering knives from the wall, and called him back. Quite seriously she said, "When you go back, tell the Cult Leader's widow that I, Biyao, miss her a good deal, and often think of her kindness.
" Shen Mu nodded.
Bang —