These two were both skilled in martial arts, and with two against one, they immediately overwhelmed David Thompson as soon as they engaged. The short man, relying on his agility, twisted and turned a few times to break free from the fight, then pushed off with his foot, leaping three or four meters high, vaulting over several people and heading straight for William Foster.

“You two take care of this guy, I’ll chase down that brat and take his life!”

Before the words had even finished, he was already far ahead. At this moment, William Foster had only run a few dozen meters, still quite a distance from the council hall, and at this speed, he would be caught by the short man before he could make it inside.

Although William Foster didn’t look back, that guy—whether out of contempt or confidence in his superior lightness skill and martial arts—charged after him with a whooshing sound, so William Foster could tell what was happening behind him just by the noise.

“This won’t do, if this goes on I’m dead!”

His mind raced, and in an instant he came up with an idea, though it was risky—one wrong move and he could lose his life. But if he just waited for death, he’d die all the same.

“Go for broke!”

William Foster kept his head down and charged forward, gripping a short stick in his right hand, while his left hand reached inside his coat. As he ran, he kept adjusting his direction and steps, and after just a few quick changes, he found the right angle.

It turned out that the surrounding flames lit up the area as bright as day, but the council hall itself wasn’t on fire, so all the light was concentrated behind William Foster. The light from behind cast his shadow on the ground ahead, allowing William Foster to see it.

Though the shadow was blurry and indistinct, with focus it was enough to judge the general position—he relied on this to tell if the man was right behind him.

This method was actually quite dangerous, but in a rush there was no better option, so he had to risk it. Luckily, William Foster’s luck wasn’t too bad.

“There he is!”

Almost at the same time, William Foster saw a shadow pounce toward him, and he could even hear the triumphant laughter just behind him.

“Now!”

He spun around suddenly, flinging his left hand at the man with all his might, instantly enveloping him in a cloud of quicklime.

Ever since quicklime had helped him defeat those bandits, William Foster, knowing his martial arts weren’t much to speak of, had carried some with him just in case—and now it had come in handy.

The man, midair, never expected William Foster to be carrying such a thing, and was caught off guard, hit square in the face. With his experience, he could tell from the smell in the air that it was quicklime.

“You little bastard, so despicable!”

He cursed angrily, but didn’t dare open his eyes. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he tried to leap away to put distance between himself and William Foster.

But William Foster already knew how good his lightness skill was and wouldn’t give him the chance. As he threw the quicklime, he had already aimed and kicked out.

“Aaaargh—!”

The scream was truly blood-curdling—even William Foster, who caused it, felt his hair stand on end. He even vaguely heard something break, but now was not the time for sympathy. As he withdrew his right foot, his right hand brought the short stick down hard.

With a dull thud, the stick landed squarely on the back of the thin man’s head. The shrill scream stopped abruptly as he collapsed to the ground, silent.

William Foster had no time to check if the man was dead or alive. After a few quick blows, he turned and ran toward the council hall. But once inside, William Foster didn’t head straight for the secret passage entrance—instead, he twisted his body and hid beside the main door.

“That scrawny guy screamed so miserably, someone must have heard. Of the two attacking Ting Zheng, one is definitely winning, so either of them could break free at any moment to chase me down.”

William Foster figured that one of the two was already on his way. In such a rush, he might not even be able to find the secret passage entrance.

“Go for broke, go for broke!”

He took a deep breath, steadied his breathing, and stared unblinkingly at the doorway. Sure enough, a figure darted in. The man paused, probably surprised not to see William Foster, and didn’t react right away.

This was a chance not to be missed. William Foster immediately lunged from the corner, hurling the short stick with all his strength at the man’s head, then dove low, aiming for his lower body.

The pursuer was Frank Miller, a notorious lone bandit in the area, quite experienced. He froze for a split second, then instantly realized something was wrong.

At the same moment, he heard the wind behind his head and snapped back to his senses: “Kid, you think you can ambush me?”

He swung his long staff in a sweeping arc, knocking William Foster’s thrown stick aside.

He expected that not only would this sweep knock away William Foster’s stick, but it would also leave the kid wide open, giving him the chance to strike and kill him.

But he never expected that his sweep would only knock away the stick, not the boy himself. He never imagined that William Foster had thrown the stick to distract him, then used a wild punch technique to strike several acupoints on the inside of his legs.