Raising Orphans, Not Assassins
Vol. 2 - Ch. 38 - A Clash!

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Sun Sheng and Qiong Aohai exchanged glances, both showing surprise in their eyes.

Their bodies lifted off the ground as they darted into the room.

It was a study. A candle flickered in the west corner, casting light over a redwood desk placed at the center. Ink, brush, paper, and a few scriptures were neatly arranged atop it.

A lean middle-aged man stood behind the desk.

The official they’d just seen outside the residence now lay on the ground—dead.

Beside the body stood a young man in white brocade robes. His features were as handsome and refined as carved jade, even more so than Sun Sheng’s.

With hands clasped behind his back, the young man gazed at the two intruders and smiled faintly. “Gentlemen, trespassing into a second-rank official’s residence is a serious crime.”

Qiong Aohai’s expression froze. At a glance, he recognized the man.

Clenching his fists, his eyes burned with hatred. In a cold voice, he spat, “It’s you!”

He had recognized Wan Qing—the same black-robed figure from the day he’d infiltrated Mo Fangping’s estate of the Jiuhua Sword Sect.

Rage churned within Qiong Aohai like a tidal wave.

His reputation was now ruined in the martial world, and he was a wanted criminal in the mundane one.

All of it—every last consequence—was thanks to Wan Qing!

Wan Qing met his gaze with a mild smile, as if only just remembering something.

“Oh, so it’s the famed Unmatched Divine Palm, Young Master Qiong.”

“What’s this? Hiding out by Lake Tai for days and now you finally dare show yourself?”

Wan Qing stood tall, noble and composed, his face like polished jade, exuding the grace of a man born into wealth and prestige.

He then looked toward the black-clad man wearing a black veil mask and said with a gentle smile, “And this must be the White Stripe in the Waves—Brother Zhang Shun, scourge of Lake Tai?”

Sun Sheng didn’t answer. He merely cast a sidelong glance at Wan Qing.

Qiong Aohai raised his palms, his body shifting ever so slightly. A faint sound like ocean tides murmured from his hands.

When enemies meet, blood boils.

In a blink, he appeared before Wan Qing.

Both palms shot forward, the roar of waves echoing around them, giving the illusion of standing by the shore as the tide surged.

Qiong Aohai wasn’t holding anything back. His palm technique surged to its peak.

Sun Sheng didn’t just stand idly by. He followed closely, striking from the left at an angle with “Grass Carp Seizes the Bait.”

Internal energy surged from his dantian and poured into his palms.

He suddenly paused mid-motion, startled—somehow this strike felt much stronger than it used to.

Before, with the aid of the “Hundred-Wave Inner Energy,” he could hold his own for a few moves against Qiong Aohai using his Crashing Wave Palm. But truth be told, Sun Sheng had always been slightly weaker.

Now, as this palm flew forth, its power—boosted by the same inner strength—was on par with Qiong Aohai's.

Seeing the two attack at once, Wan Qing’s expression grew serious.

He moved his hands from behind his back and met the strike from both men head-on in one swift motion.

A flash—like two jade-like hands gliding through the air.

And then—

Boom!

A thunderous sound rang out.

All three staggered back several steps, robes fluttering wildly in the wind.

A burst of qi surged through the study.

Sun Sheng and Qiong Aohai were both shocked. The Crashing Wave Palm was known for its fierce and brutal power.

And yet—this Wan Qing—his palms matched it in sheer force?

Wan Qing stumbled back into the desk, his face ashen, hands once again behind his back.

But Administrator Zhang, saw it clearly—Wan Qing’s hands were trembling.

His expression was dark and stormy.

He cultivated a grandmaster’s martial technique, and Qiong Aohai was still a level below him.

In a one-on-one fight, Qiong Aohai was no match.

But now—this “Zhang Shun” who had appeared out of nowhere—had power equal to Qiong Aohai’s.

Even more alarming, Wan Qing had heard the sound of ocean tides from Zhang Shun’s dantian while he was channeling internal energy.

A thought struck him.

This Zhang Shun… is a direct disciple of Nan Yiyun.

Nan Yiyun had passed on the South Sea Sect’s ultimate technique—the Thousand-Fold Hundred-Wave Manual—to him!

Which meant… Wan Qing was now facing two nearly top-tier second-rank experts at once.

No matter how strong he was, this was too much.

Sun Sheng and Qiong Aohai steadied themselves.

Sun Sheng looked toward Wan Qing’s hands—like white jade under the flickering candlelight, glowing with a gentle luster.

Those hands were delicate, with not the faintest sign of training—no calluses, no scars.

They looked like a girl’s hands—certainly not a man’s.

Strange.

Very strange.

Sun Sheng clicked his tongue in wonder.

Wan Qing glanced at them and chuckled lightly. “To think I’d have the fortune of crossing hands with not one, but two disciples of the South Sea Sect. Truly, the heavens smile upon me.”

“I wonder what the martial world would say if word got out that Master Nan’s direct disciples had turned to banditry upon the waters.”

Sun Sheng sneered. “What the hell do you know?”

“I rob on water—what’s it to you?!”

“Mind your own damn business!”

Wan Qing opened his mouth to retort, but Sun Sheng’s crude words made his face turn pale with fury.

“Such vulgarity.”

Wan Qing snorted, then pursed his lips and whistled sharply.

“Screech!”

A moment later—

“Screech!”

A response came from outside.

A grey-clad man burst into the room, hawk-eyed, high-nosed, his irises a striking sea-green.

Without hesitation, the grey-robed man lunged straight at Sun Sheng.

“Got backup, huh?” Sun Sheng sneered, throwing Wan Qing a sidelong glance full of disdain.

His hands moved rapidly, answering the attack with Crashing Wave Palm techniques.

Wan Qing felt a surge of frustration.

He was a hereditary marquis—wherever he went, people treated him with reverence.

But this Zhang Shun spat vulgarities at every turn, and his gaze was utterly lacking in respect.

Not a trace of a grandmaster’s disciple’s bearing!

Qiong Aohai saw Sun Sheng being attacked and sprang forward to help.

Wan Qing snorted coldly, shifting like a shadow to appear two zhang (roughly 20 feet) away—right in front of Qiong Aohai.

Qiong Aohai struck back instinctively, the sound of surging waves roaring from his palms.

Wan Qing raised his jade-like hand, receiving the attack as if brushing off dust.

His style changed immediately—moves without patterns, strikes without form.

Each time they exchanged blows, Wan Qing would launch an attack from an angle Qiong Aohai hadn’t anticipated.

It defied all logic.

The study erupted into chaos as the four tangled in fierce battle.

Administrator Zhang watched, heart pounding. The desk, incense burner, chairs—all were caught in the fray. The room was a wreck.

Crash!

A porcelain vase shattered from a stray palm strike.

Administrator Zhang’s face twisted in pain—but he dared not utter a word.

After a few exchanges with the grey-robed man, Sun Sheng’s expression darkened.

He realized that his opponent’s limbs radiated a bitter cold. After a few clashes, his palms and sleeves were already frosted over.

The grey-clad man looked at him and gave a strange smile.

In a hoarse voice, he said, “A disciple of the South Sea Sect?”

“Hehehehe…”

The laugh was full of malice.

Sun Sheng shot him a look of disdain and cursed, “Laugh at your grandma’s legs!”

As the words left his mouth, the grey-cloaked man suddenly exhaled a stream of white mist from his mouth and nose.

Caught off guard, Sun Sheng inhaled a large amount of the freezing fog.

Qiong Aohai, who was still battling Wan Qing, saw this and shouted in shock—

“Mystic Ice Demonic Art!”