The air in the dimly lit room grew suffocating, thick with the stench of sweat and blood. Wei Feng knelt on the ground, his body trembling slightly from the stab wounds. One blade had sunk into his ribs, another had carved into his gut, and the dwarf's dagger had pierced his knee, forcing him to crumble onto the cold, grimy floor. Yet, despite his battered state, Wei Feng's lips curled into a twisted smirk.
The three goons who had stabbed him stumbled back instinctively, their confidence wavering. Something about Wei Feng's demeanor—his eerie calmness—set off alarms in their instincts.
The dwarf sneered, holding his dagger aloft, blood dripping from its edge. "What's with that look, huh? You think you're still gonna get out of here alive, cripple?"
Wei Feng didn't respond. His head hung low, his disheveled hair shadowing his eyes. Then, without warning, a low, guttural chuckle escaped his lips. The laugh grew louder, more menacing, until it filled the room, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present. It was the laugh of someone who had danced on the edge of madness—and survived.
"Did you really think…" Wei Feng's voice was steady, chilling. He raised his head, his dark eyes now glinting with an unnatural light, "…that stabbing me would be enough?"
The dwarf hesitated, his grip on the dagger faltering. The two other goons took another step back, sweat beading on their brows.
Wei Feng began moving his hands, forming intricate seals in the air. His fingers danced with precision, each movement radiating an invisible yet oppressive force. The room seemed to darken, as if the very air itself was being drained of vitality.
"What are you doing?!" one of the goons shouted, panic rising in his voice.
Wei Feng rose from the ground—his movements unnatural, as though he were being lifted by an unseen force. His bloodied knee no longer buckled beneath him. Instead, his entire body floated upright, his joints snapping into place like the movements of a marionette. Above him, a spectral figure began to take shape—a translucent puppeteer manipulating strings that were connected to Wei Feng's limbs.
"This…" Wei Feng began, his voice filled with authority, "is the result of my enlightenment. During my time in the Blood Abyss, I revised the Qi Manipulation Manual dozens of times, breaking it down to its very essence. I realized that if I could control external objects with Qi, then why not myself?"
He paused, his lips curling into a derisive grin. "It's like… those programming courses I took back on Earth. At first, I'd write the same line of code a hundred times. Tedious. Inefficient. But then, I learned about loops—a single line to do the work of a hundred." His eyes burned with intensity as he declared, "This technique is my creation. I call it 'Fate.'"
The puppeteer above Wei Feng pulled its strings, and his body moved with an unnatural fluidity. In an instant, he vanished from where he had been standing, reappearing between the two goons who had stabbed him. His hands lashed out simultaneously, his speed blinding. Before either of them could react, his fists punched through their chests with a sickening crunch.
Wei Feng didn't stop there. His hands closed around their still-beating hearts, and with a violent yank, he ripped them free. Blood sprayed across the room as the two bodies crumpled to the floor. Wei Feng held the hearts aloft, his expression cold and devoid of mercy.
The remaining goons froze, their weapons trembling in their hands. The sight of their comrades' lifeless bodies and the blood dripping from Wei Feng's hands was enough to shatter their resolve.
Wei Feng turned his gaze toward them, his voice like the whisper of death itself. "Who's next?"
The room fell silent, save for the sound of the hearts hitting the ground with a wet thud.
The man in the straw hat, his bat-like ears twitching, finally stepped forward. His playful smirk was gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. He cracked his neck, his two meridians flaring to life as a faint glow emanated from his body. The oppressive aura of a two-meridian cultivator filled the room, pressing down on everyone like a tidal wave.
"To think I'd run into a prodigy here," the man muttered, his tone low and serious. "To create your own technique at the first meridian… that's unheard of. You're not just some runaway. You're a monster."
Wei Feng met his gaze, unbothered by the aura bearing down on him. The puppeteer above him seemed to grin, its strings tightening as Wei Feng's body moved with inhuman precision.
"Monster?" Wei Feng echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. "No. I'm simply the one who decides your Fate."
The bat-eared man scoffed, baring his sharp teeth in a smug grin. "Fate, huh? Don't make me laugh. I don't believe in fate." His voice was full of mockery, but before he could say more, Wei Feng vanished from his sight.
In a blur of movement, Wei Feng reappeared, his fist slamming into the man's face with ferocious power. The force sent the bat-eared man stumbling back, his cheekbone cracking audibly under the pressure. Wei Feng followed up with another punch, then another, each strike landing with the relentless power of a gorilla. Bones cracked with every blow, the sound reverberating through the room like thunder.
Despite the overwhelming speed and power of Wei Feng's strikes, his movements were raw, unpolished. His punches, though devastating, lacked any semblance of martial skill. They were wild, uncoordinated swings, as though he were fighting for the first time.
The bat-eared man staggered but then burst out laughing, his voice ringing out even as blood dripped from his mouth. "Amateur!" he barked, his laughter a mix of mockery and exhilaration. With a dramatic flourish, he tossed his straw hat aside, revealing his monstrous face in full. His nose was flattened, his teeth jagged and sharp, and his eyes glowed red with predatory intent.
His body began to twist and contort. A sickening crunch accompanied his transformation as leathery wings burst from his back, and his limbs elongated unnaturally. In mere moments, the man was no longer a man but a grotesque bat-like creature, his hunched figure oozing feral menace.
Dropping into a low, animalistic stance, his movements became precise and calculated. His fighting style resembled a grotesque form of Shaolin Kung Fu, honed not through years of disciplined training but through blood-soaked street fights and survival in the darkest corners of Rotten Apple City.
The bat-man moved with frightening speed, dodging Wei Feng's amateurish swings with ease. His claws slashed out, tearing through Wei Feng's defenses and landing blows that made the latter stumble. The overwhelming physical advantage Wei Feng had enjoyed moments ago began to wane as the bat-man adapted to his unrefined fighting style.
Meanwhile, the remaining goons in the room scrambled to flee, the chaos too much for them to handle. The once-rowdy crowd devolved into a stampede of terrified spectators, pushing and shoving to escape the room before they became collateral damage.
Wei Feng gritted his teeth, his body bruised and bloodied. The strings of the puppeteer technique pulled him back upright, but his mind raced with panic. This bastard adapts too fast! My advantage is shrinking, and the technique won't last much longer.
The bat-man let out a guttural laugh as he delivered a punishing blow to Wei Feng's side, sending him crashing into the wall. "What's the matter, prodigy? All that talk about fate, and now you're eating dirt? You're just a weakling with fancy tricks."
Wei Feng wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes burning with malice. He looked around the room until his gaze landed on the dwarf, who had been cowering in the corner, too terrified to escape. A sinister idea flickered in Wei Feng's mind, and his lips curled into a devilish grin.
"How about being useful for once?" Wei Feng snarled, his voice dripping with venom. Before the dwarf could react, Wei Feng's foot connected with his side, launching him into the air like a ragdoll. In a blur, Wei Feng caught him by the legs, spinning him around with an inhuman ferocity.
The bat-man hesitated for the first time, his glowing red eyes narrowing in confusion. "What the—"
With a roar, Wei Feng swung the dwarf like a massive club, slamming him into the bat-man's side. The impact sent the creature flying, crashing into a pile of shattered furniture. Wei Feng didn't stop there. He continued to wield the dwarf as a weapon, each swing landing with a sickening crunch against the bat-man's body.
The bat-man shrieked, his composure cracking under the absurdity of the situation. "What kind of monster are you?!" he bellowed, his voice tinged with equal parts rage and disbelief. Never in his life had he encountered someone insane enough to use a person as a bludgeoning tool.
The dwarf, meanwhile, let out muffled cries of pain with every swing, his protests lost in the chaos.
Wei Feng's laughter rang out, cold and unhinged. "You said I was an amateur, didn't you? Well, let's see you predict this!"
Despite his bravado, Wei Feng's mind was racing. The Fate Technique only lasts one minute, and I'm running out of time. The strain on my body is already pushing me to my limit. And worse, while using it, I can't manipulate other objects with telekinesis. It's all or nothing now.
As the puppeteer strings began to flicker and fade, Wei Feng gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the dwarf. With one final, powerful swing, he sent the bat-man crashing into the far wall, his body leaving a deep dent in the stone before collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Wei Feng stood there, his body trembling as the puppeteer above him dissolved into nothingness. Blood dripped from his wounds, and his vision blurred from the toll of the technique. But his lips curled into a triumphant smirk as he stared at the battered, motionless form of the bat-man.
"Still think I'm an amateur?" he muttered before collapsing to one knee, his energy completely spent.