The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 164

Jiang Fei had indeed been shot.

The “Threefold Cloud” lightness skill was formidable, but it couldn’t outrun bullets. Earlier, while saving Qiao Yiyi, the sniper had seized the opportunity to shoot him in the back.

In truth, Jiang Fei was lucky. The sniper hadn’t been aiming for his shoulder—he’d been aiming for his head, intending to blow it clean off.

Fortunately, Jiang Fei’s reflexes were sharp. At the last possible moment, he dodged, narrowly avoiding a fatal headshot.

Even so, he could feel warm blood soaking his back. The searing, tearing pain from the gunshot wound radiated through half his body, nearly numbing it entirely. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. This was the first time in his life he’d experienced such agony.

Getting shot…

Most people never imagined it would happen to them. Even soldiers braced themselves for the possibility, but nothing truly prepared them for the reality.

If he’d been alone, Jiang Fei might’ve broken down. But with Qiao Yiyi beside him, he couldn’t afford to falter. Besides, two assassins were still lurking nearby—he had no time for weakness.

Forcing a strained smile, he grimaced. “It’s fine. Feels like a mosquito bite.”

“How is this fine?!” Qiao Yiyi’s voice trembled as she touched his back, her hand coming away wet with blood. Swallowing her fear, she whispered, “Jiang Fei, just run. Leave me here. Get to safety and call the police. Whatever these people want, they probably won’t kill me.”

Jiang Fei shook his head. “You still don’t get it. The thugs in the van were sent by Li Jirong to harass you, yes. But the man I fought earlier? The sniper? They’re here for me. If I don’t die tonight, they won’t leave. And if they don’t die… neither of us is walking away.”

“Then… what do we do?”

Tears welled in Qiao Yiyi’s eyes. She scrubbed them away roughly, only making her red-rimmed eyes more obvious. “Wait—the police! We should call them!”

She reached for her phone, only to remember both their devices were still in the BMW. In their panic, they’d left them behind. She started to crouch, preparing to dash back to the car.

“Don’t move! It’s too late!”

Jiang Fei clamped a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. They pressed tightly against the BMW as bullets whizzed past, tearing through the car’s metal frame. The sharp ping of each impact told Jiang Fei the sniper was herding them into position—closing in for a cleaner shot.

The pain was excruciating. The shock of the situation left Jiang Fei’s mind reeling. Even with his game system, he’d never imagined facing something like this.

Yet, paradoxically, the more dire things became, the calmer he felt. His thoughts sharpened, racing through possible solutions.

Charging out to confront the sniper? Suicide.

His left shoulder was already useless. Even if he spent his remaining skill points to upgrade his Tai Chi or Threefold Cloud, he might stand a chance against the cold-eyed assassin alone. But with a sniper in play? No hope.

No matter how skilled you are, a bullet beats fists.

If martial arts wouldn’t save them, maybe the system’s shop could.

Ignoring the gunfire hammering the BMW, Jiang Fei pulled up his inventory and navigated to the weapons section. His eyes locked onto the disposable items:

• Frost Soul Needle (500 gold)
• Seven-Star Bone Piercer (600 gold)
• Li’s Flying Dagger (800 gold)

All were lethal, long-range weapons—perfect for assassinations. With 842 gold, he could afford any except the 1000-gold “Rainstorm of Pear Blossoms.”

But he’d only get one shot.

And it had to kill the sniper. Otherwise, neither of them would survive the night.

The needles are cheaper and deadly, but I’ve never thrown a dart in my life. Hitting a moving target? Unlikely.

That leaves… the flying dagger.

Decision made, Jiang Fei’s gaze hardened.

“Li’s Flying Dagger—800 gold.”

In seconds, his gold dropped to 42, and a sleek, three-inch blade materialized in his inventory. With a thought, it appeared in his palm.

The metal was cool against his skin, its weight reassuring. The dagger was unassuming—thin as a cicada’s wing, shaped like a willow leaf—yet it carried an aura of inevitability.

Etched into the blade was a single character: 李 (Li).

This was Li Xunhuan’s dagger.

The legendary blade that never missed.

Qiao Yiyi, frantic beside him, blinked in confusion as the dagger seemed to materialize from thin air. But Jiang Fei had no time to explain.

The gunfire was getting closer. More precise.

Thankfully, his right arm was unharmed.

Gripping the dagger, he took a steadying breath—and changed.

It was as if the spirit of Li Xunhuan himself had possessed him. The pain in his shoulder faded. His mind cleared.

With this blade, no one can evade me.

The certainty of it was intoxicating.

Then—

CRACK!

Another bullet tore through the BMW’s hood. The sniper and the cold-eyed assassin were advancing from opposite angles, confident Jiang Fei wouldn’t dare expose himself.

They were wrong.

In one fluid motion, Jiang Fei rose.

The sniper’s reflexes were honed—from thought to trigger pull in under half a second. He didn’t even need to aim.

PFFT!

The suppressed shot rang out, the bullet streaking toward Jiang Fei’s forehead. At this range, it was a guaranteed kill.

Both assassins smirked, anticipating the spray of blood and brain matter.

But Jiang Fei was smiling too.

A reaper’s smile.

Time seemed to slow.

Jiang Fei’s eyes tracked the bullet’s path as if it were moving through molasses. He saw the air ripple around it, heard the faint whine of its passage.

And then—

SHING!

The dagger left his hand in a flash of silver, faster than the bullet itself. Its tip struck the projectile dead-center, shearing it clean in two with a shower of sparks.

The dagger didn’t even slow.

In the next instant, the sniper’s smirk froze.

A three-inch blade protruded from his forehead.

He toppled backward, dead before he hit the ground—his expression still locked in smug anticipation, his eyes wide with uncomprehending shock.

Li’s Flying Dagger. No missed strikes.