Chapter 75: Battle Aura

The black cloak stood atop the rocky cave, let out a cold laugh, and glanced at Grim-faced Zhang, who was sitting on the bridge smoking. “Master Zhang, your skills are impressive. Let me learn from you as well!” With that, he shook his black cloak and leapt over two meters high, like a shadowy specter, landing on the platform above. Immediately after, he sprang again, performing a clockwise spinning jump, landing on a stone two meters away to the side. The black shoulder cape and the two sides of his cloak fluttered wildly, blooming like a black mandrake flower in midair.

It was clear that while the black cloak might not match Grim-faced Zhang in practical experience or physical prowess, his speed was certainly on par, moving like a ghost in the shadows.

This display of skill visibly surprised Grim-faced Zhang. The last time these two had fought in the Quicksand Arena, Zhang had won within three moves, proving they were not even in the same league. Yet now, it seemed the black cloak had deliberately concealed his strength; with such speed, he would never lose within three moves. Thinking this, Grim-faced Zhang’s expression turned serious. Of course, we “White Hats” were completely oblivious to all this.

Suddenly, with a swift leap, the black cloak landed right beside Grim-faced Zhang, sat down next to him, and grinned mischievously. “Master Zhang, please offer me some guidance.”

Grim-faced Zhang snorted, took a drag on his cigarette, and muttered, “Cut the nonsense.”

Those of us below were once again stunned by the black cloak’s agility.

“This... this girl’s skills seem almost as good as Third Brother’s!” Kaleidoscope stammered in astonishment.

Lord Dragon and Iron Crutch Liu’s faces were somber, their expressions dark and displeased, all looking at me with a hint of disdain. Just as I was feeling awkward, my master walked up, patted me on the shoulder, and smiled.

“Master, I...” I wanted to protest my ignorance, but he waved his hand, signaling me not to speak further.

“All right, all right, enough chatter. I’ll go next.” Iron Crutch Liu waved his hand, leaning on his twin daggers, and moved to the bow of the boat. “Gentlemen, watch closely.”

I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly, thinking, who’s watching you? This isn’t some street show selling miracle pills, yet you’re making such a dramatic entrance. Are we supposed to tip after the performance?

My amusement aside, Iron Crutch Liu, despite his sickly appearance, was surprisingly skilled. He tapped the boat deck with his twin daggers, bent his legs, and sprang out like a coiled spring—more like he was launched than he jumped. It resembled those long-distance leaps of Qing Dynasty zombies in old movies: far but not high. While his speed didn’t match the spinning leaps of the black cloak nor the acrobatic climbing of Grim-faced Zhang, having such skills clearly wasn’t learned overnight. It gave me a new respect for the Capital’s Nine Gates. Grim-faced Zhang’s abilities were well-known, but Iron Crutch Liu, as the Eighth Gate, was no slouch either. And then there were those two old men guarding Beijing, “Heaven’s Pass” and “Hou Universe”—could they be gods?

Lost in thought, I watched Iron Crutch Liu stab his twin daggers into a crevice in the rock, grab hold, and perform a somersault on them like a gymnast on a horizontal bar. After watching Grim-faced Zhang and the black cloak’s “acrobatic displays,” now we were treated to a gymnastics routine.

Iron Crutch Liu, after flipping his body, stood upright on his twin daggers. The material of these daggers was astonishing; when Iron Crutch Liu stood atop them, they trembled as if flexible and resilient. He bent his legs, grunted, and exerted force, causing the daggers to spring him upward with remarkable power.

I gasped, thinking, this old fellow used too much force—wouldn’t he crash into the cave roof and die? Showing off like this, was it worth risking his life?

Clearly, I’d underestimated Iron Crutch Liu. When he was just four or five meters from the cave ceiling, he suddenly swung his right hand. The twin daggers embedded in the rock responded as if commanded, flashing coldly into his right hand. Iron Crutch Liu caught them, spun, and stabbed fiercely at the cave top, flipped in midair, kicked off the roof, and landed steadily atop the bridge.

His aerial leap drew as much admiration as the previous displays. This old man was nearly seventy and only had one leg, yet his skills were remarkable.

He landed with a look of pride, glanced at Grim-faced Zhang and the black cloak. Grim-faced Zhang nodded, exhaling through his nose.

I looked at my master. “Master, do you have such skills?”

He smiled and shook his head. At that moment, Lord Dragon came over, laughing. “Qiutong, each of the Nine Gates has different abilities and responsibilities—not everyone has the power to leap walls and scale roofs.”

I nodded, thinking, I’d never seen Uncle Jun’s skills, but I had seen Xiao Xie’s, which resembled Grim-faced Zhang’s movements. Could Uncle Jun, with his burly build, also possess such flexibility? Wouldn’t that make him a monster?

“Stop dawdling!” Grim-faced Zhang called from atop the iron bridge.

Everyone exchanged glances, nodded, and began tying the climbing ropes hanging from the cave ceiling around themselves.

“Wait.”

Just as we were about to step onto the first rock, Mengya’s sudden voice interrupted us. A white figure darted onto the rocky platform ahead, spun around, and ascended in a manner similar to the black cloak—a white whirlwind twisting and leaping through the stones. Though her movements mimicked the black cloak’s technique, her speed was noticeably slower, and she seemed hesitant, as if afraid of injury.

“What’s this? Is she from the same school as you?” Grim-faced Zhang asked the black cloak, his face cold as he smoked.

The black cloak snorted, shook his head, and offered no explanation.

Mengya made it to the bridge without much trouble, but I noticed her holding her waist, her face pale and exhausted.

Grim-faced Zhang glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “No need to pretend. I already saw your true skills during the Quicksand Arena.”

Mengya smirked, looking down at me with a pang of sadness.

I was puzzled—any layman could see Mengya and the black cloak had learned the same technique. I’d always wondered about their relationship. Perhaps they’d known each other for a long time, maybe they were both keeping secrets from me. Lost in thought, my master patted my shoulder, snapping me back.

“What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Just a little dizzy, nothing serious.” I tied the climbing rope around my waist.

My master nodded, turned, and led the way, tugging the rope as he swung across, landing steadily on the stone two meters away. He tugged the rope again to check the knot, then held tight, swinging step by step, slowly moving across the rock face, which angled from seventy-five to ninety degrees, and at the very top, even steeper—almost one hundred degrees. It looked like swinging on a trapeze, and was far more nerve-wracking than watching those martial arts masters seemingly defy gravity—I feared his grip would slip.

My master struggled across the stone wall for about ten minutes. At the last section, the “inverted slope” near the bridge, the cave wall had a huge depression, nearly a meter and a half wide. Crossing this overhanging gap was no easy feat.

Reaching the depression, my master appeared exhausted, shivering at the sight and nearly losing his grip, almost tumbling down.

“Old Four!” Grim-faced Zhang cried out, leaping to his side, grabbing his rope, and hauling him onto the bridge. My master slipped and almost fell through the iron framework, but Mengya reacted swiftly, grabbing him up.

Grim-faced Zhang tossed my master back, flipped in midair, kicked off the cave ceiling, and landed steadily atop the bridge.