Special Forces Medic

Chapter 1164 Blood-Spattered Garage (2)

Can I really get out of here? Xia Xue didn’t know if there was even such a chance. Through the rearview mirror she watched Consort Ling fighting like mad in the swarm of thugs, and before she realized it, tears were streaming from her eyes.

Maybe Xia Xue’s reckless stunt just now had taken a lot of pressure off Consort Ling. As his shadow flashed and twisted, another large group of people went down. The roar of the engine was growing distant. With no more worries behind him, Consort Ling kicked back and leapt, landing on a crossbeam.

"Come out!" His eyes locked in one direction, Consort Ling let out a low, grim shout, like an enraged beast.

A burly figure stepped out from behind a business van, gripping a steel saber that looked extremely heavy, about a meter long, yet compared to his height it still seemed a bit small.

"Seven-Level!" Feeling the dense aura spreading from the darkness, Consort Ling had already guessed it was Seven-Level’s codename, but his gaze swept around and still didn’t find the Jester’s shadow. "Not good!"

Wherever Seven-Level was, the Jester would definitely be there too, stuck together like flesh and bone. Consort Ling cursed inwardly and shot off in the direction Xia Xue had escaped.

He was fast! Seven-Level was faster! The two figures sprang out at the same time, and in a flash left everyone else far behind.

"Don’t block me!" Consort Ling bellowed, slashing a sword-shadow at Seven-Level in front of him. Right after, the staff end of his sword-staff drew a half circle and jabbed toward Seven-Level.

After a feint, Consort Ling had already darted far away. The ramp sloped upward, and he sprinted after her at top speed. But when he caught sight of the red sports car’s tail, his heart began to sink.

The car was stopped halfway up, brake lights still blinking. Consort Ling rushed over; there was no trace of anyone inside. As his mind blanked for an instant, the pursuing Seven-Level had already reached him. Without a word, he raised his steel saber and chopped toward Consort Ling’s back. Feeling the gust behind him, Consort Ling pushed off the car, sprang up, and landed on a jutting beam.

With a boom, the red sports car was cleaved in half by the saber, wires crackling and sparking violently.

"I don’t want to kill you. Where is the Jester?" Consort Ling crouched lightly on the beam, sword-staff upright at his side.

Seven-Level glanced at Consort Ling, then silently raised his steel saber and charged at him. Consort Ling toed off a pipe and slipped past Seven-Level’s strike. "Seven-Level, you know what the Jester’s move will cause. If even a single hair on Xia Xue’s head is missing, Young Master Xiao won’t let any of you off. Tell me where she is—you don’t want to see her die for those pieces of trash, do you?" Consort Ling warned coldly. "’Black Crow’ has always belonged to the Xiao Family. You people should know when to stop. You still don’t know what kind of person Young Master Xiao is?"

"Cleaner, you’ve gotten talkative." At the mention of the Jester, Seven-Level’s movements clearly slowed for a beat. He might be the most wooden of the bunch, but he was definitely not stupid. "A mission is a mission."

A mission is a mission! Such familiar words. When had he almost forgotten them? Consort Ling ignored his own former belief in "a mission is a mission." The anxiety in his chest was feeding his rage. Seven-Level was the hardest one to reason with, and Xia Xue’s unknown whereabouts twisted his usually androgynously handsome face into something feral. He let out a low growl and suddenly lunged forward.

This distance of a dozen or so steps was nothing to Consort Ling. After a few explosive strides, he abruptly dove forward, and in the blink of an eye was right in front of Seven-Level. One hand slammed to the ground, his entire body spinning low along the floor, bringing up a small whirlwind as his two long legs swept toward Seven-Level’s thick legs like iron bars.

No one knew what Consort Ling was thinking. His attacks were just like his codename: clearing away all obstacles. In his heart no one was terrifying, and no one was unbeatable—except when he was facing Xiao Lin.

Consort Ling was arrogant. By nature aloof, after he eliminated the previous Cleaner he overturned all the rules of the position—no subordinates, no regulations; he worked alone, wiping out all illegal targets.

Consort Ling’s sudden move thoroughly shocked the crowd of assassins who’d followed up behind. They knew there was no room for them to intervene right now. Some even stopped dead just as they were about to get close to the two, then backed away in a hurry. No one wanted to get caught by the shockwaves; whoever could retreat farther, did.

The ferocious, blood-reeking momentum of a wild beast charging a boulder seemed to slam right into them, making Seven-Level and the others’ hearts clench hard. Consort Ling’s speed was frighteningly fast. After being apart for so long, the level his skills had risen to secretly amazed Seven-Level. But even in that shock, Seven-Level was no ordinary person; his reaction speed was also extremely quick—otherwise he’d never have been ranked among "Black Crow’s" upper echelon.

Forcing down his alarm, Seven-Level retreated two steps. Only two, but just enough to slip out of the range of Consort Ling’s sweeping legs. However, you could never judge Consort Ling’s offense from the surface, especially against a power-type opponent. He always nested moves inside moves, hiding killing intent, using finesse to beat brute force. This time was no exception.

As her legs swept toward Qi Ji at extreme speed, her left leg went from motion to stillness, slamming onto the ground to forcibly brake the spinning double kick. At the same time, her right leg paused for a split second, then snapped upward.

Crack! Consort Ling’s right leg smashed hard into Qi Ji’s knife-wielding right hand. With a chilling sound of shattering bone, the steel blade in Qi Ji’s hand was kicked flying. His right hand was drenched in blood, all five fingers completely twisted out of shape, pale bone glinting with a horrifying white sheen under the white-hot light.

Qi Ji stared at Consort Ling in shock, a mocking smile on his androgynous face. They were no longer on the same level. He stared blankly at his own right hand, as if unable to believe this was real. "How could this happen?"

"Qi Ji, tell me where the Clown took Xia Xue, and I’ll let you go."

Ten fingers linked to the heart—five fingers broken sent a spike of agony that made Qi Ji clamp his lips tight. He glared fiercely at Consort Ling without saying a word. "You can’t even beat me, and you still think you can win against Xiao Lin? Don’t force me to kill you."

Qi Ji froze on the spot, and the others were even more stunned! In just the blink of an eye, his five fingers were broken and his weapon knocked away; this kind of power was clearly beyond anything they could handle.

Consort Ling had neither the time nor the mood to admire the wounds she’d inflicted. Every extra second here meant losing the chance to find her target. Both hands hit the ground, her legs spun again, her right foot stamping down as she kicked off the floor, then swung up at full speed, whipping up a cloud of dust that blasted toward a man on her left.

No one expected Consort Ling to suddenly lock onto him. Just as that man panicked and dodged with all his strength, Consort Ling thrust her body forward and leapt up violently, her whole figure rising a meter off the ground. Her sword-staff swept across the crowd in front of her as both legs drew tight like a fully drawn bow, then released at once.

Crack! Another bone-shattering sound, even worse than before, made everyone shudder. Qi Ji’s eyes bulged as he watched the man Consort Ling kicked flying—half the man’s jaw looked like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer and had completely vanished from his face. Half his face was just gone, a sight utterly terrifying. Blood sprayed down in sheets, and amid a strange, muffled wailing, the man crashed to the ground in front of Qi Ji.

Consort Ling lifted her sword-staff and pointed it at Qi Ji. She wouldn’t give him any more chances. This is your outcome—like a silent declaration of war, the tip of the staff leveled at Qi Ji.

With blood still dripping from his five fingers, Qi Ji picked up his steel blade with his left hand. For a moment, a trace of regret flickered across his face, or perhaps it was some tangled mix of feelings all blended together. He lowered his head, and after a long moment, let out a furious roar and charged at Consort Ling.

Ai... A thin, threadlike sigh slipped from Consort Ling’s lips. Her hand twisted around the sword-staff, bringing it horizontally across her chest as she braced for Qi Ji’s attack.

His single hand clawed out, spinning at insane speed as he hammered toward Consort Ling in front of him. Right behind that, the steel blade chopped down from above with the same speed, the bloody, overbearing force giving those behind him a brutal visual shock.

Consort Ling’s footwork twisted, her legs beginning a slow, strange pattern in place. With each step, her whole body started to blur. Trails of afterimages spread around her, shrouding her in some strange illusion. Everyone’s vision swam; in that haze, a shrill roar suddenly rang out. Qi Ji, who had been fully focused on his strike, felt his heart jolt and couldn’t help but retreat.

Seizing the opening, Consort Ling lunged forward. Her whole body flickered like a rapidly shaking camera, appearing before Qi Ji and weaving left and right within just a few steps’ distance.

Qi Ji’s massive body was still backpedaling and hadn’t stabilized when Consort Ling already closed in. Having lost the initiative, he twisted and swung his steel blade back in a quick cut—but he was too late!

Consort Ling’s pupils tightened sharply. She knew Qi Ji would definitely fall back into defense out of shock; without absolute certainty, he would never launch a reckless attack. Outsiders might not grasp this, but as a fellow member of Black Crow, Consort Ling understood Qi Ji’s tactics inside and out—that was how she created this opening. You could even say it was a bit disgraceful.

"Last chance!" Consort Ling roared as she suddenly appeared right in front of Qi Ji. She drew the sword-staff back behind her, both palms flashing rapidly before her chest, then blasted forward with a fierce, razor-edged momentum.

She held back. Qi Ji could feel that from the force of her palm wind; if it had been the sword-staff instead, even if he dodged the palm wind, he wouldn’t have escaped that blade so easily.

"A mission is a mission!" The same line again. Consort Ling lifted her elegant brows. Since you’ve already accepted that, he wouldn’t hold back anymore either.

Her palms flipped up again, and her illusory footwork sped up once more. Both large palms closed in on Qi Ji at the same time. One slammed into his steel blade, completely smothering his attack, while the other smashed hard into his chest, sending him flying on the spot.

Wah... A surge of blood rushed up from his chest and spurted from his mouth. Having landed her strike, Consort Ling pulled her hands back and steadied her stance, then angled her body and shot upward, like a roc spreading its wings and taking off from the earth, rising into the air above Qi Ji’s backward-flung body. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you’re welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote with recommendation tickets and monthly passes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)