Longevity Martial Arts: Grinding Experience in the Chaotic World novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Chapter 82: Kill

The Li Family Fortress.

Deep into the night, the world was quiet. A biting cold wind swept through, interrupted only by the occasional barking of dogs and chirping of insects.

In front of the crimson pavilion, two distinctive Martial Artists stood. One robust and thickset, the other tall and lanky.

The tall, lanky Martial Artist glanced toward the distant pavilion and couldn’t help but complain:

"Brother Feng, when is this miserable task ever going to end? Leaving the Black Sand Gang to babysit a shameless woman here—this damn winter night is driving me mad!"

The thickset Martial Artist, Brother Feng, slapped the top of his head and cursed with a laugh:

"You dumbass, always complaining. You think this is a hardship? You’d be shocked to know how many of the brothers in the gang fought over this job. You know Han Ye’s temperament—he never skimps on rewarding his men. If we do this job well, won’t we be eating lavishly and drinking richly under Han Ye’s wing in the future?"

"As a man, you need some foresight—stop nitpicking over these trivial things right in front of you."

The tall Martial Artist chuckled sheepishly, flattering:

"Brother Feng, I’m just standing up for you here. I’m nothing as a mere Stone Skin Martial Artist, but you’re already in the Iron Skin Realm. If the gang fosters you further, you might even ascend to the esteemed Blood Refining Realm—a major figure in Canghe County. Wasting time here seems like such a pity!"

"But now that you’ve mentioned it, I get it. You’re just thinking farther ahead than me. Still, I wonder how much longer we have to endure this?"

He sighed and once more gazed toward the pavilion.

By now, the lights within the pavilion had already been extinguished.

"That woman truly is something... Who would’ve imagined such a stunning gem could be hiding here in this little Li Family Fortress? No wonder Han Ye has been so drawn to coming by more and more often."

The robust Martial Artist chuckled wickedly.

"You’re still too naive. I know Han Ye’s tastes, and it’s not just because Li Yu is sultry and provocative."

He cast a meaningful glance toward another courtyard, where Du Jiangbo resided. Two other Black Sand Gang Martial Artists were stationed there as his guards.

"Don’t worry. She may seem favored now, but give it less than a year—Han Ye will grow tired of her. For now, he’s pampering her, but soon she’ll be less than worthless. And maybe when that time comes, we might even have our own chance to savor her!"

The two exchanged a knowing, lecherous laugh.

"Anyway, before Han Ye tires of her, we just need to follow orders and keep a close watch on Li Yu. If Du Jiangbo snaps one day and decides to kill Li Yu, we’ll be dragged into the mess."

"You’re absolutely right, Brother Feng. I’ll obey whatever you say. Just don’t forget to look out for me when you make it big!"

"You rascal, as if I’d forget you."

"Now go on, head to the steward and fetch another jug of wine. How long has it been? We’re already out!"

The thickset Martial Artist poured the last drop of wine into his mouth as he grumbled, kicking the tall Martial Artist with a teasing laugh. Serving as guards in the Li Family Fortress had its perks—high status, carefree indulgence, and even the liberty to take their pick among the fortress women if they so wished.

Though they acted like their predicament was dire, in truth, their frustration merely stemmed from having to watch over a single woman. If not for this assignment, they’d happily linger in the fortress, playing kings of their little domain.

Taking hold of the empty wine jug, the lanky Martial Artist acknowledged with a quick reply and strolled off into the distance to fetch more wine. It was an errand that exclusively fell on him.

Humming a carefree tune, he wore an air of mild contentment.

Perhaps he was daydreaming about the future he’d just discussed with Brother Feng—imagining himself as a Blood Refining Realm expert one day, reigning strong in Canghe County.

Turning a corner.

His body suddenly shivered, as if an icy gaze had locked onto him.

A cold chill shot down his spine, jolting him awake. But as he took another look around, he found only his own shadow. Laughing at himself, he muttered:

"Scaring yourself, huh? What a coward you are!"

He shook his head and continued onward leisurely.

Whoosh!

A faint yet razor-sharp whistle pierced through the air. The spinning arrow sliced the night like a tempest, leaving behind a subtle trail of shadows before striking with brutal precision.

The thickset Martial Artist froze momentarily. The faint whistle alerted him just as he was about to turn his head.

But the arrow was far too swift.

A suffocating dread overtook him—a sensation of impending death. He barely had a chance to react, instinctively channeling all his power outward. His skin darkened into a dense, iron-black hue.

Splurt!

The sound of an arrow piercing flesh was unmistakable. The thickset Martial Artist’s eyes bulged wide with terror.

Its penetrative force was overwhelming. His iron-like skin proved utterly useless, his throat punctured in a heartbeat!

"Ah... ah..."

Desperation filled his eyes. He couldn’t utter a sound. He didn’t even know who had ambushed him. All he knew was that he’d been felled with an arrow to the throat, his Life Force bleeding out rapidly. In that brief moment, his fluttering gaze caught a blurry silhouette racing toward him.

Bang!

Gu Sheng’s iron-firm fist struck the base of the arrow lodged in his throat. The arrow shaft exploded into fragments, while the arrowhead shot completely through, extinguishing the last traces of the Martial Artist’s Life Force.

All of this unfolded in the blink of an eye.

Gu Sheng’s gaze remained calm, devoid of emotion. Killing these two felt no different than slaughtering chickens—routine and effortless.

With his mastery of archery now, ambushing Iron Skin Martial Artists was almost guaranteed to succeed unless they were particularly vigilant or specialized in light-footed techniques, such as the one from the black market he’d encountered earlier. Otherwise, evasion was near impossible.

Clearly, the Martial Artist before him lacked both qualities.

Gu Sheng grabbed the corpse, dragging it into the brush near the pavilion. Turning toward the pitch-black pavilion, his icy gaze locked onto it as he stepped forward, his movements deliberate and unyielding.