Chapter Forty: The Seven Demonic Fists of Darkness

Perhaps it was the result of years of training under Qin Xiaochuan, who often ambushed him from behind—when Fan Fan was suddenly seized from behind, she instinctively spun around and landed a tremendous slap on Teacher Li, sending him crashing to the ground. This blow was even more powerful than Qin Xiaochuan’s own signature attack. Seeing Teacher Li lying on the ground, foaming at the mouth, Fan Fan stared at her own palm, her young face darkening with anger as if she had suddenly recalled something. With no time to lose, she pulled the still-spraying Xia Dan by her side, and together they dashed down the stairs.

“What?!” The light-thunder fist from Zhuque’s right hand was intercepted by Qin Xiaochuan, who shielded himself with both hands. The shoes he’d been using for protection were blown into the air by the residual force of the attack. Noticing the spiritual light emanating from Qin Xiaochuan’s hands, Zhuque realized, “So you’re channeling spiritual energy to shield your hands, using shoes as cover…”

“Correct!”

After blocking Zhuque’s attack, Qin Xiaochuan swung his right fist, landing a blow squarely on Zhuque’s face. Zhuque staggered back several meters, skidding a trail of water across the floor.

“It seems you’re no longer fit to be even a third-rate screenwriter,” Qin Xiaochuan mocked, seeing Zhuque kneeling with one hand braced on the ground. He raised his right fist. “I demand a rewrite—ha! Now it’s my turn to attack. Prepare to die, you overgrown bird!”

With that, Qin Xiaochuan launched himself at Zhuque, his fists flying at bullet-like speed. In an instant, he formed a net of punches that enveloped Zhuque entirely. The more Qin Xiaochuan was oppressed, the greater his resistance grew—he was that kind of anomaly. After enduring Zhuque’s overwhelming speed and the baptism of the light-thunder fist, Qin Xiaochuan’s punch speed rose to an entirely new level.

By now, Zhuque’s single-handed defense could no longer withstand the onslaught. While Zhuque was busy guarding his face, Qin Xiaochuan seized the opportunity, landing a punch on Zhuque’s left hand and knocking the demon flute from his grasp. In truth, Qin Xiaochuan’s aim wasn’t Zhuque himself but the flute—destroy it, and his psychological burden would be lifted. Otherwise, seeing Fan Fan in danger on the screen gnawed at his heart, making it impossible to fight with full focus, especially against a formidable opponent like Zhuque.

But Zhuque, reacting quickly, snatched the demon flute back even as it flew through the air. As Qin Xiaochuan charged in again, Zhuque’s right hand, charged with thunderous power, slashed at his body. Sensing danger, Qin Xiaochuan jerked back, narrowly avoiding the blow, then dropped low and sprang forward, grabbing onto the bulging part of the demon flute and pulling it toward himself with all his might.

As soon as he grabbed the flute, Zhuque retaliated, his sword-fingers tapping Qin Xiaochuan’s arm. A massive electric current shot through him, making his arm jerk violently and his hair stand on end. Unable to withstand the electric power of Zhuque’s light-thunder fist, Qin Xiaochuan released his grip and staggered back. Though struck again, it seemed he had begun to adapt to the current’s strength—this time, it wasn’t nearly as devastating as the first, when he’d nearly lost control of his body altogether.

“Damn it, just a bit more!”

“It seems you’re deeply obsessed with this demon flute,” Zhuque remarked, regaining the flute and pausing his attack. Clearly, Qin Xiaochuan’s recent barrage had made him reassess his foe. It was obvious now—he’d have to go all out. “Is that girl really so important to you?”

“None of your business!” Qin Xiaochuan hated it when others threatened him with Fan Fan. Enraged by Zhuque’s words, he charged again, but as he glimpsed the mirrored image of Fan Fan and Xia Dan desperately fleeing, he suddenly halted. On the screen, the puppets chasing them now wielded knives and axes, shouting “Kill her, kill her!” as they brandished their weapons and closed in. Zhuque had evidently given them a kill order—he no longer wanted Fan Fan alive but intended to slaughter the woman Qin Xiaochuan loved most, right before his eyes.

Seeing Qin Xiaochuan’s shock, Zhuque stepped before the mirror, glanced at the scene, and turned to him: “Judging from your expression, it seems the plot at the school has reached its climax. Those two girls may have escaped punishment once, but this time, I won’t let them get away. As for our battle here, it appears my single hand can no longer keep up with your speed. Out of respect for your strength…” Zhuque tucked the demon flute under his left arm, pressed his hands together in a sword-gesture, and continued, “Open your eyes and witness it, Qin Xiaochuan: the other dark secret technique that rivals my light-thunder fist…”

“What?!”

“Dark Seven Demon Fists!”

Qin Xiaochuan’s vision blurred as Zhuque’s body flickered and split into six identical copies. The only difference was that none of the six held the demon flute—only the Zhuque in the center did. Qin Xiaochuan was stunned; he couldn’t tell at all if these were illusions. Each looked fully alive, each one assuming a fighting stance around the central Zhuque, all sneering at him.

“Well? Surprised?” mocked the Zhuque with the demon flute. “Originally, I wanted to see if you could tell which one is the real me, but considering your expression, there’s no point in asking. I’ll tell you honestly—these six are all my true selves. Seven bodies in one, their strength and speed identical to mine. Don’t think my power is diluted just because I’ve split myself. Let them show you what that means, Qin Xiaochuan. Taste this: Dark Light-Thunder Arrows!”

With a wave of his hand, the six Zhuques leapt into the air, conjuring bows formed from demonic energy. Black lightning-wreathed arrows appeared; six arrows released simultaneously, all aimed at Qin Xiaochuan. Their coordination was flawless. As the arrows streaked toward him, Qin Xiaochuan gathered spiritual energy into his fists, blocking as many as he could. He managed to deflect five, but as the final arrow sped toward him, he realized he couldn’t evade in time. Twisting his body to protect his vital organs, the last arrow pierced straight through his shoulder.

“Aaaagh!” Qin Xiaochuan screamed as the electric current from the arrow surged through his wound, rampaging through his body with even greater force than the light-thunder fist. It felt as if his body would be torn apart by the wild energy. The impact knocked him off his feet, leaving him twitching on the ground.

“Hahahahaha!” Zhuque, seated and holding the demon flute, clapped his hands. “Blocking five of my arrows—impressive. These arrows are forged from the electric current within me; they could pierce even diamond. Now that you’ve taken a hit, you won’t last much longer.” With a snap of his fingers, two of his avatars hoisted the fallen Qin Xiaochuan, subjecting him to another devastating surge of electricity. As Qin Xiaochuan slumped, limp, Zhuque continued, “Let me grant you the privilege of witnessing, while still conscious, how your beloved is torn apart by a horde of madmen. What fortune! You are both the sole audience to this tragedy and its silent protagonist. Let’s watch the ending together, Qin Xiaochuan!”

Meanwhile, Fan Fan and Xia Dan’s situation had grown dire. The classroom door was torn off by the frenzied puppets and tossed aside. Teacher Li was the first to burst in, mouth now dripping not with saliva but blood, testament to the force of Fan Fan’s earlier slap—it had knocked his teeth loose. Eyes wild, he scanned the classroom for any sign of the girls, but they were nowhere to be seen. After glancing about, his gaze fixed on the tall cabinet beside the lectern—tall enough to hide both Fan Fan and Xia Dan, and, tellingly, with a scrap of school uniform peeking from its door.

Convinced they were inside, Teacher Li mumbled threats as he charged the cabinet, the puppets crowding in behind to surround it. Once in position, Teacher Li yanked the door open, only for a bundle of uniform to fall out—no trace of Fan Fan or Xia Dan, only a pile of cleaning tools.

At that moment, Fan Fan and Xia Dan burst from behind the curtains, wielding broom and mop. They swung wildly at the puppets and dashed out the classroom door. It was clear they had tricked Teacher Li and his mob.

“Idiots!” Zhuque, watching this unfold, smashed his wine glass in rage. “You can’t even catch two girls? Useless fools, unable to follow my script!”

“Heh heh, heh heh…”