Chapter Nineteen: Brought Down

In addition to that, there was his poisonous gas. Crafted by methods akin to potion-brewing, this gas was not only fiercely toxic, but could also resonate with magical energy, forming a net that, driven by magic, encircled the Old Man of the Staff. As a result, the Old Man was forced to divert more of his own energy to resist the surrounding poison, lest he be caught unawares.

A relentless assault, a mysterious guardian spirit, and the bizarre poisonous gas—these combined to catch even the Old Man of the Staff off guard. Gu Chongyan showed no mercy for his opponent’s reputation; in fact, he was even more aggressive than when he fought the Russian mobsters. His figure became a rushing gale, closing the distance in an instant, fists and feet unleashing explosive bursts of force in a wide-open, ferocious onslaught.

The sound of blows landing was like a drumbeat, merging into a continuous roar. In that moment, Gu Chongyan was like a tiger unleashed from the mountains, unstoppable and fierce. With the guardian spirit harrying him and the poison closing in, the Old Man had no opportunity to counterattack—he could only rely on his exquisite martial skill to defend himself.

Gu Chongyan pressed his advantage mercilessly, launching attack after attack with fists and feet in a storm of violence. It is said that youth trumps experience in raw power; no matter how refined the Old Man’s techniques, nor how wondrous his energy, the fact remained—his body was old. Forming a barrier of energy to block the poison sounded simple enough, but the effort required was so great that even he could not sustain it for long.

Combined with Gu Chongyan’s fierce blows, each strike forced the Old Man to expend even more strength to parry. At first, he considered showing restraint, but Gu’s relentless assault quickly made it clear—this was no longer a matter of mercy, but of whether he could survive Gu Chongyan’s onslaught. Were it not for his wealth of experience, he would have been defeated in the opening clashes.

Even so, now he was panting for breath, his limbs weakening, and the guide cane in his hands no longer danced with its earlier agility. Even his defensive circle of energy had shrunk by half. Sensing the Old Man’s declining state, Gu Chongyan’s fighting spirit only grew fiercer.

“When you’re weak, that’s when I’ll finish you!” he shouted. Without hesitation, he drew a deep breath, his fists launching like cannonballs, the air exploding with deafening bursts as he ignored the flurry of staff shadows, attacking the Old Man’s chest with an almost suicidal determination.

The Old Man was taken aback, unable to fathom why this young man fought so desperately. But in such a situation, he had no time for hesitation. Bracing himself against the mounting pressure, he swung his guide cane, aiming at Gu Chongyan in return.

Longer reach means greater strength. Gu Chongyan’s reckless aggression left his chest completely exposed—a wide-open target for the Old Man’s cane. Though slender as a bamboo rod, this cane was forged from special materials; a blow from it was no less punishing than a steel rod or iron hammer.

Thud! Thud! Thud! In the blink of an eye, the cane struck Gu Chongyan’s torso, each blow a heavy, resounding thump. The Old Man’s expression shifted as he realized why Gu Chongyan was so bold. Like Fisk’s suit, Gu Chongyan wore clothing woven from special fibers—on the surface nothing remarkable, but in truth, impervious to blades and bullets, akin to the legendary soft armor in martial arts tales.

The cane’s strikes, while not entirely harmless, were largely absorbed by this hidden armor—hardly enough to draw even a grunt from Gu Chongyan. Relying on this protection, he endured several blows head-on and finally broke through the Old Man’s defenses.

Straight punches, hooks, swings, stomps, side kicks, knee strikes—a relentless barrage of simple, direct attacks, each one laced with a biting wind, caught the Old Man completely off guard. Thud! Thud! Thud! The blows rained down like a storm on plantain leaves, hammering his chest; in just a few seconds, he took more than a dozen heavy hits.

Even a Kunlun martial artist, trained in channeling energy, could not withstand such a beating and was forced to retreat again and again. But Gu Chongyan was not done yet. Gazing at the battered Old Man, he drew a deep breath, his right arm swelling with muscle, and unleashed a punch like a fired arrow straight at the Old Man’s chest.

A dull boom, a cry of pain—the Old Man was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, crashing hard to the ground. His ever-present guide cane clattered away, rolling into a corner. Before he could rise, the absence of his protective energy allowed the ghostly green poison to surge in from all sides, engulfing him entirely.

Without his energy to shield him, the Old Man had no hope against Gu Chongyan’s meticulously brewed poison. He fell into unconsciousness almost instantly, unable even to struggle. Fortunately, Gu Chongyan, though utterly ruthless, had no intention of killing him. The gas he had released was not lethal, but a potent sleeping agent.

Staring at the fallen Old Man, Gu Chongyan felt his anger dissipate. He took out his phone and called Matt.

“Sean?” Matt’s voice came through the line. Gu Chongyan replied calmly, “The Old Man of the Staff came. I took him down.”

There was a noticeable pause on Matt’s end. His mood was complicated. “I understand. Take him to the usual place—I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright.” Nodding, Gu Chongyan hefted the Old Man onto his shoulder, picked up his guide cane, and slipped away into the night toward the abandoned factory.

Soon, the two of them met within the derelict building. Listening to the familiar heartbeat, Matt’s expression was troubled.

“What happened?” Matt asked.

“It’s nothing,” Gu Chongyan shrugged. “Someone tried to make an example out of me—strike with one hand, offer a sweet with the other—ended up overplaying it and got knocked out instead.”

Matt, recalling the Old Man’s usual methods, fell silent. “And now? What do you plan to do?” he asked.

“What else? We’ll cooperate—join forces against the Hand.” Gu Chongyan’s reply was matter-of-fact. Seeing Matt’s surprise, he smiled. “What, is that so unexpected? I may dislike his holier-than-thou attitude, always playing the sage, but I know what’s important.”

“In fact, if he hadn’t broken into my home, I wouldn’t have taken him down. Now that the fight is over and my anger spent, whether for the greater good or out of respect for you, it’s time to let it go. Otherwise, I’d have brought a corpse instead.”

Matt was silent for a while, then softly said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Well, he’s had enough rest—time to wake him up.” With that, Gu Chongyan crouched and gently patted the Old Man. A wisp of green vapor seeped from the Old Man’s body and dispersed.