Returning to the Mysterious Era

Chapter 254 - The Power of Southern Dipper Fist Technique

A figure flickered through the red rain of blood.

Killing was easy—any Covert Martial Arts technique could achieve the same end. After all, Covert Martial Arts were created with the purpose of pushing the human body beyond its limits and crafted for deadly combat. However, Cassius had never encountered a Covert Martial Art that made killing seem like an eerie form of art like the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist. It exuded a strange beauty.

It wasn't about the moves, the principles of the fists, or the Will behind them. It was simply a style. This style left those entranced by killing strangely intoxicated with the sensation of life fading away. They would sink deeply into it until they couldn’t break free.

Cassius could feel that after breaking through the eleven acupoints and formally stepping into the second stage of the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, a demonic aura had subtly begun to emanate from every movement of the technique. It was only now that Cassius understood why Feng Liusi had lost control and sealed off his five senses for three years. The Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist unveiled an increasingly strange allure as one's skill progressed. If one didn’t possess enough restraint or a firm will, one could easily lose themselves in a prolonged frenzy of slaughter, and ultimately become a slave to the technique.

Cassius's understanding of the core of the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist deepened. At the same time, he became incredibly curious about the mysterious Southern Dipper Covert Martial Inheritance. Besides the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, there were other Southern Dipper Covert Martial Arts such as the Waterbird and Sonic Snake techniques.

Each of these ancient assassination fists seemed to represent a different style of fist techniques. However, each one pushed a specific direction to its limit.

When was the Southern Dipper Covert Martial Inheritance created? Who was the genius that created it? Or perhaps, was it the work of multiple creators?

Cassius looked down at his pale hands that were now stained with blood. The fingernails of both index fingers gleamed like rubies, a visible effect of the large amounts of Death's Fang Force condensed at his fingertips.

He had not been able to do this during the first stage of the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist—neither in terms of quantity nor quality. But after reaching the second stage, with the amplification and resonance of the eleven acupoints, Cassius had naturally learned how to utilize Death's Fang Force.

Death’s Fang had a well-known passive effect. Cassius’s meridians had formed a closed circuit in his fingers, allowing the Death’s Fang Force stored in his acupoints to circulate rapidly. This briefly made his fingers as sharp as surgical blades.

Just like earlier, when Cassius had decapitated and dismembered the group of gunmen with casual, effortless swipes. His fingers were sharper than a blade, and could easily tear through tough skin and firm muscles like they were clothes.

He could faintly sense that every time he advanced to the next stage, the passive effect would only grow stronger. This would continue until the sixth stage.

Each time he progressed to a new stage, he would be able to sharpen two more fingers, until all ten fingers became fangs of death. He speculated that some terrifying transformation would occur when that happened. But that would be very difficult, since each subsequent acupoint became increasingly difficult to open. After all, Feng Liusi, in his decades of training, had only reached the fourth stage.

To unlock all sixty-six acupoints was a feat as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

Only Cassius, with his time-travel ability and the Killer Persona that perfectly matched the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, had a chance at it.

In the hall, occasional screams and muffled grunts could be heard within the gray-white roads and pale yellow buildings. It was clear that someone had barged into the headquarters of the Red Falcon Fist and was killing their way deeper.

Whoosh...

A strong wind howled past. Two gunmen stopped at a corner as they sensed a shadow flicker by them. The young man in front was just about to speak when he found he could no longer make a sound. His vision spun, and he found himself floating mid-air, looking at two headless bodies spraying blood.

"Oh, so my head's been severed..."

Then his world went black, and he lost consciousness forever. In a little over a minute, dozens had already perished at Cassius’s hands. Anyone who crossed paths with him died.

Whether they were gunmen from the White Rose assassin camp or rebel elders and disciples of Red Falcon Fist, they all died. Those proficient in Covert Martial Arts had a natural advantage within the complex paths of the hall. In an open area, dozens of elite gunmen with heavy machine guns could probably cause Cassius significant harm, but here, even a hundred would be useless.

The traps set by the Red Falcon Fist defectors and the White Rose gunmen within the headquarters of the hall were easily shattered.

Of course, Cassius's unchecked advance quickly drew their attention. Martial artists and gunmen from other areas of the hall quickly converged on his location. Some elite gunmen and pugilist-level elders, who had been besieging the Second Elder’s faction, also turned back to deal with the sudden assault from behind.

The weather was beautiful, with clear blue skies and a few wispy clouds. Golden sunlight shone down on the pale yellow rooftops of the dojo. A strong stench of blood wafted in the breeze, while the decorative trees along the path swayed gently. Blood-soaked limbs hung from the branches, dotting the leaves with sticky blood.

A fiery red light arced through the sky and settled by Cassius's side. His five fingers dripped crimson, standing in stark contrast to his pale skin.

Cassius glanced at the three or four corpses around him. This corridor-like white courtyard lay right before the core of Red Falcon Fist, where the sect master and elders usually resided.

The once clean and orderly courtyard was now soaked in blood. Suppressing the intoxicating feeling brought by the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, Cassius stepped over the corpse of a martial artist.

Three seconds later, he walked through the courtyard's white arched gate.

"Fire!!!"

Bang, bang, bang... tat-tat-tat... swoosh, swoosh, swoosh...

Over ten gunmen instantly opened fire on Cassius. Bullets of various sizes covered every inch of space around the gate.

There was no way to dodge.

Bullets struck the grass, sending dirt flying. They hit the stone gate, sending shards of stone flying. They struck the walls, causing plaster to crumble. But when they hit the target, there was no sound.

The metal bullets passed through his clothes as if they had been completely absorbed, making not a single noise.

Cassius lowered his arms, revealing a mask of blood-colored mist. No one could tell whether he was expressionless, extremely excited, or simply filled with disdain for the weak beneath the mask.

Boom!

The ground shook violently from a heavy stomp. All the gunmen felt a tremor shoot up their legs from the ground as Cassius shot toward them like a diving eagle. Gun barrels locked on him and machine gun bullets continued to rain down.

Clang clang clang!

This time sharp, metallic clinks rang out when the bullets hit him!

The crimson Cassius charged head-on into the storm of bullets. He appeared among the gunmen like a phantom, and threw a punch at a machine gunner.

Whoosh!

Bang!

The gunner's head exploded like a watermelon, sending red and white matter flying in all directions. Several gunmen were instantly drenched in gore. Before they could even register their shock or disgust, a blood-red hand closed over their heads. Their skulls were crushed in an instant.

The gunman on the left reacted to the deaths of his two comrades by hurriedly lifting his gun. But a red spear shot toward him. The knife hand pierced through his left chest, shattering his ribs and pulverizing his heart.

The third man died, then the fourth, then the fifth...

The outcome had been sealed the moment Cassius closed the distance. This elite squad of gunmen could hold their own against powerful Covert Martial Artists at a distance, but once a combat artist got close, their fate was nearly guaranteed. After all, while they were elite, they were still just regular humans.

In the blink of an eye, only half of the squad remained. Despite their professional training and mental fortitude, facing a bulletproof monster who slaughtered them without hesitation, every gunman was overwhelmed with dread. Several had already broken formation and turned to flee.

Bang!

A hand clamped down on a head, and it exploded like a watermelon. A nearby gunman who witnessed his comrade's death could only stare in shock. His entire body trembled uncontrollably, snot and tears flowing down his face. His finger, halfway through pulling the trigger aimed at Cassius, suddenly went limp.

A terrifying shadow loomed over his heart, and he mumbled, "Kill me... just kill me..."

"Ah!"

"Monster!"

"Run!"

The gunfire and shouts that once filled the area gradually fell silent, as everyone who made noise had all been killed. The sole surviving gunman stood frozen like a wooden pole. The sound of boots squishing through sticky blood echoed behind him.

A breeze, thick with the stench of blood, blew past.

The gunman slowly fell to his knees. In his mind, he kept replaying the image of that blood-red figure soaring through the air. He let his head fall as tears streamed down his face and a strange smile curled on his lips. He raised his gun.

He tucked it under his chin, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A body collapsed to the ground.

Cassius stopped in his tracks when he heard the gunshot behind him. Once again, the magic of the Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist technique had shown its power. The gunman's spirit had been utterly crushed. Influenced by the fist technique's oppressive Will, the gunman had been driven to despair and committed suicide.

The Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist didn’t just affect the emotions and personality of its user but also the will of bystanders with weak resolve.

Cassius swiftly moved through the passageway.

There were now new holes on the walls around him. Some had been made by fingers, others by fists, and more by claw marks. A moment later, there was a loud thud as bodies hit the ground just on the other side of the wall.

A combat artist's Qi projection allowed them to easily sense the precise location of enemies within a certain range and even predict their next move. Cassius' keen senses could allow him to easily detect murderous intent over a massive range. Unless his opponent's aura was well-hidden, he could quickly spot them and prepare for battle long before they arrived.

Smack!

Cassius stopped and stared indifferently ahead.

An old man with a goatee, accompanied by a group of martial artists in tight combat attire, blocked his path. The shadows of black-clad figures could be seen darting about around them. Cassius could sense many gun barrels pointed at him.

"Who are you, and why are you meddling in the internal affairs of Red Falcon Fist?" The old man's aura radiated authority and strength as he stared coldly at Cassius.

"Our Red Falcon Fist sect is allied with the Eastern Nine Sects. You've fought your way in with impressive skill, but have you considered the retribution from the Eastern Nine Sects? The entire Eastern Covert Martial Arts world will hunt you down!

"Moreover, you may not even survive our encounter, let alone dodge the bullets aimed at you. Whoever sent you, whatever sect you're from, young man, don't ruin your own life!"

Three minutes later.

Cassius stood among corpses, lifting Great Elder Dyson by the throat. Dyson’s thrashing was of no help. He couldn't even speak. His face turned red, then purple, as his airway was crushed.

"Not much of a fighter, but your will to survive is quite strong... A futile struggle." Cassius lowered his gaze calmly.

Crack!

A limp, broken body thudded to the ground.

Cassius surveyed the bloody scene as he found the last area of resistance. He moved forward, his blood-soaked boots squelching with every step.

A pale yellow dormitory building stood in front of him.

All the remaining loyal martial artists who had not been captured had retreated here. This included three elders, along with Neve, Feng Liusi’s granddaughter. They were all on the first floor.

In the living room, Neve's face was pale with worry. Beside her, the thin, white-haired Second Elder Charles glanced out the window. Just minutes ago, there had been a disturbance outside. Then, the forces besieging them had suddenly withdrawn. But faint screams and the sounds of battle could still be heard in the distance.

It seemed there was another fight outside the Red Falcon Fist hall. He had no idea what was happening.

Charles turned to Neve, whose face was even paler. He tried to comfort her, "Neve, don't be afraid. It's alright, Dyson and the others won't be coming here anytime soon. They fear I'll fight them to the death..."

As he spoke, a bitter smile crossed his face.

Neve nodded, but her expression remained bleak.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The abrupt sound caused everyone in the living room to freeze. Charles's face changed as he rushed toward the door.

Boom!

The door was blown off its hinges with a single punch as someone walked in.