The Art of the Invisible Strike

Chapter 6

"No! Wait! It must be a mistake!" Gao stammered, his fat face sweating. "The supplier... they must have tricked me!"

But the damage was done. The wealthy disciple slapped Gao across the face, grabbed his money pouch, and stormed off. The other shoppers began to jeer and mock Gao. His reputation was ruined in a single moment.

Han Feng stood there, calm. "Now, about those Vitality Pills. I think three silver is a very fair price for a jar. Don't you?"

Gao looked at Han Feng with pure, unadulterated hatred. His hands were shaking. But with everyone watching, he couldn't attack. He reached under the counter, grabbed a dusty jar of black pills, and slammed it down.

"Take them," Gao spat. "And get out of my sight. If I ever see you in the Under-Alley again, I’ll have you skinned alive."

Han Feng took the jar, tucked it into his cloak, and turned to leave. He had won, but he knew he had made a dangerous enemy.

As he moved away from the stall, a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

Han Feng’s reflexes screamed. He spun around, his hand curled into a strike, ready to crush the throat of whoever was touching him.

He stopped just in time.

Standing there was a girl. She was about his age, but she didn't look like a servant. She wore a simple, grey disciple’s robe, but it was clean. Her hair was tied back in a practical ponytail. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and completely calm.

It was Su Yan. He had seen her before. She was the "Jade Outcast." She was a genius who had been demoted because she refused to follow the Sect Leader’s specific training methods.

"That was a clever trick," she said. Her voice was like cool water. "But you were sloppy."

"I don't know what you mean," Han Feng said, trying to pull away.

She didn't let go. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "You didn't use Qi. I was watching your chest. You didn't even take a deep breath. You used your bones. I could feel the floorboards humming under my feet when you flicked that glass. That’s 'Internal Resonance,' isn't it?"

Han Feng felt a chill go down his spine. "I don't know what that is."

"Don't lie to me, Han Feng," she whispered. "I know you're a 'Null.' Or at least, everyone says you are. But a Null can't shatter wax through glass without breaking the glass itself. You’re practicing something forbidden. Something ancient."

Han Feng looked into her eyes. He saw no malice there. Only curiosity. "Why are you telling me this? Are you going to report me to the elders?"

Su Yan laughed, but there was no joy in it. "The elders? They’re the ones who put me in this grey robe because I found a better way to breathe than what they taught. No, I won't report you. In fact, I think we might need each other."

She leaned closer. "The Culling is in twenty-five days. The Great Elder isn't just looking for the weak this time. He’s looking for something specific. He’s looking for people with abnormal bloodlines. If he finds out what you are, he won't just exile you. He’ll put you on an altar and open you up to see how you work."

Han Feng tightened his grip on his jar of pills. "Why help me?"

"Because," Su Yan said, her eyes darkening, "I want to see this sect burn. And I think you might be the torch."

She let go of his shoulder. "Go. Merchant Gao is already talking to his 'Fixers.' If you don't hurry, you won't make it back to the servant quarters alive."

Before Han Feng could ask anything else, she vanished into the shadows of the market.

Han Feng didn't waste a second. He moved quickly, ducking into a narrow alleyway that served as a shortcut. The walls here were high and dripping with slime. The only light came from the moon high above.

He was halfway through the alley when he stopped.

His "Nerve Sight" picked up a vibration. It wasn't the sound of footsteps. It was the sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing. Three people.

"Coming out to play, little rat?"

A man stepped out from behind a pile of crates at the end of the alley. He was huge, with a bald head and a jagged scar across his nose. He carried a heavy iron chain wrapped around his fist.

Two more men stepped out from the shadows behind Han Feng. They were holding spiked wooden clubs. 

They weren't just thugs; they were discarded disciples, men who had enough training to be dangerous, but not enough to be successful.

"Merchant Gao says you owe him five hundred silver," the big man with the chain said. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the narrow space. "Since you don't have it, we’re going to take it out of your hide. Starting with your fingers."

Han Feng looked at the exit. It was blocked. He looked at the entrance. It was blocked.

He felt the jar of Vitality Pills in his pocket. He felt the "Copper Skin" on his arms. He was tired. He was hungry. But for the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid.

"I’ve had a very long day," Han Feng said. He dropped his hood, letting his silver eyes shine in the darkness. "If you turn around now, you might live to see tomorrow."

The thugs laughed. The big man swung his chain, the heavy iron links whistling through the air.

"Kill him," the big man ordered.

The two thugs behind Han Feng charged, their spiked clubs raised high.

As the clubs swung toward his head, Han Feng didn't move to dodge. Instead, he reached out and grabbed both clubs with his bare hands. 

The sound of wood hitting "Copper Skin" was like a hammer hitting an anvil. The thugs’ eyes went wide with terror as they realized their weapons hadn't even left a scratch.

"My turn," Han Feng whispered.