“No problem, I’ve noted the price.” Luo Shiyi smirked slightly, eyeing the two before him. “A man with hollow strength and a girl as thin as a stick—your punches must be so weak they wouldn’t even itch.”
“Ha!” Zhang Shan laughed in anger. “Wouldn’t even itch? Come and try it yourself!”
“Try it, then.” Luo Shiyi pushed Old Sun aside and stepped onto the bridge.
By now, all six had made it onto the bridge, though their formation was a mess. From left to right stood Qiao Jiayin, Xiao Xiao, Zhang Shan, Li Xiangling, Luo Shiyi, and Old Sun.
The teams were now scrambled, and the key was which side could break through first to secure victory.
Zhang Shan and Li Xiangling had fully entrusted their backs to Qiao Jiayin, focusing entirely on their opponents ahead.
“Zhang Shan, let me try,” Li Xiangling said. “You take the final stand.”
“Alright,” Zhang Shan nodded. “Be careful.”
Li Xiangling acknowledged and stepped forward slowly. “Big guy, you called me ‘thin as a stick’—let’s see if you can handle my moves.”
Instead of answering, the young man named Luo Shiyi muttered under his breath: “Hollow strength, thin as a stick, wouldn’t even itch. Hollow strength, thin as a stick, wouldn’t even itch.”
He seemed entranced.
Ignoring his rambling, Li Xiangling leaped forward, stomped the ground, and swept her leg toward his abdomen—a strike that would injure most.
But Luo Shiyi didn’t even block. He took the hit squarely in the stomach and immediately countered with a punch to Li Xiangling’s face.
“Ah!”
She fell to the ground, and Zhang Shan quickly helped her up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I-I’m fine…” Trained in martial arts since childhood, Li Xiangling was tougher than most, but she couldn’t understand how he retaliated so swiftly.
“Be careful,” Zhang Shan warned. “These lunatics have ‘Echoes.'”
“Yeah, it’s weird…” She rubbed her cheek, recalling the kick. She’d put full force into it—enough to damage internal organs—yet he showed no reaction.
“I told you you’re no match.” Luo Shiyi wagged a finger. “You’re far from beating me.”
Li Xiangling narrowed her eyes and readied her stance. “No matter how tough you are, if I keep hitting, you’ll slip up eventually.”
“Then give it a shot.” Luo Shiyi beckoned.
Without hesitation, she sidestepped forward, planted her feet firmly, and drove her elbow straight into his chest—a powerful Bajiquan move she’d learned from village friends.
Luo Shiyi hadn’t expected such force. Though he felt no pain, the impact launched him half a meter into the air before he crashed to the ground.
Seizing the moment, Li Xiangling sprinted ahead. Her goal wasn’t to kill but to cross the bridge—only one opponent remained beyond him.
But suddenly, something blocked her path again. She looked down to find her feet encircled by moss-covered rubble, as if she’d stood there for years.
Blinking to clear her head, she frantically kicked the stones aside, knowing she had to act fast before he recovered.
“Watch out!” Zhang Shan shouted, lunging forward.
Luo Shiyi had already stood up, unharmed, and swung his clasped hands at Li Xiangling’s head as if gripping something.
Though she saw only empty air, a crushing force struck her skull—a broken stone club materialized in Luo Shiyi’s hands, sending her flying off the bridge.
Zhang Shan barely caught her wrist in time, preventing her from plummeting.
“Hey! You alright?” he yelled.
Li Xiangling shook her head, dazed. “I’m fine… Shan-ge.” But her eyes widened as Luo Shiyi appeared behind Zhang Shan, swinging another stone club at his head.
“Shan-ge, behind you!” she screamed.
Zhang Shan took the full blow—yet his grip on her never wavered.
“S-Shan-ge…” Li Xiangling stammered, relieved he still held on.
“Thought that’d hurt…” Zhang Shan scoffed. “Now that’s what I call ‘wouldn’t even itch.'”
Luo Shiyi froze. He gestured, and Old Sun handed him another club. With all his might, he smashed it down—but Zhang Shan didn’t flinch.
Stunned, Luo Shiyi stumbled back. “What kind of monster is this guy?!”
Zhang Shan stood calmly, hoisting Li Xiangling onto the bridge behind him, then brushed stone dust from his hair.
“Fighting’s one thing, but trying to kill a girl?” His voice turned icy. “Hit me with that stick. If I dodge, I’ll take your name.”
He advanced, his presence forcing Luo Shiyi to retreat. Another club appeared in Luo Shiyi’s hands, but before he could swing, Zhang Shan’s fist connected with his face—sending teeth flying.
The punch was brutal—even Qiao Jiayin couldn’t have withstood it. Yet Luo Shiyi turned back instantly and struck Zhang Shan’s head again.
Blood trickled down, but Zhang Shan didn’t move. Instead, he wiped it away, coldly asking, “Your ‘Echo’… is it no pain?”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Luo Shiyi grinned through bloody teeth. “I’m ‘Forget Sorrow.’ No pain, no bad feelings—none of it reaches me.”
“Oh?” Zhang Shan nodded slightly. “So you think that’ll let you win?”
“Yes.” Luo Shiyi smirked. “This time, the ‘Extremists’ paid well—so you die. Next time, if the price is right, I might work for you.”
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