Ethan Thompson extended his long arm and, reaching across the table, grabbed Grace Fisher's forearm. The touch was fragrant, tender, delicate, and smooth, enough to make anyone's heart race. But what kind of person was he? Aside from martial arts, nothing else mattered to him. No matter how beautiful a girl was, she was but fleeting mist. The sensation of grabbing a beauty's wrist was no different to him than holding a knife, spear, sword, or staff.

　　"Hmm?"

　　Confronted with this sudden turn of events, Brian Carter raised an eyebrow. He neither questioned nor showed the slightest hint of fear. His arm moved like a sickle, slicing down, and a bloody aura emanated from his body.

Chapter 7: Sickle Slash

　　This bloody, murderous slash was no ordinary martial art, but one that originated from the East, called "Sickle Slash."

　　Eastern martial arts emphasize lethality, a naked pursuit of killing. This is related to the country's cultural factors: small territory, constant natural disasters, the entire nation had to learn to be ruthless and violent, in line with the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, natural selection.

　　This kind of martial art is truly terrifying. To face it as an enemy—let alone fight—often just a single encounter is enough to be overwhelmed by the opponent's killing intent, losing all will to fight, left at their mercy.

　　As the saying goes, when two rivals meet on a narrow path, the brave one wins.

　　Three words sum up Eastern martial arts: "Way of Killing."

　　Ethan Thompson had once greatly admired this kind of martial art, believing it to be the true path. Later, as his cultivation deepened and he entered the Dao through martial arts, his perspective changed. Still, it must be said, though this martial art is narrow in scope, its lethality is formidable and has its merits.

　　The speed and adaptability of Brian Carter's "Sickle Slash" were absolutely not those of a novice just entering the martial world, but of someone battle-hardened, frequently ambushed and assassinated, able to respond with such swiftness only through experience.

　　His hand, like a sickle, was as if a farmer were swinging a scythe in an autumn wheat field, but with a pungent, bloody aura, gleaming with a chilling light as it slashed toward Ethan Thompson's arm. With just a light touch, the entire arm would be rendered useless, truly severed.

　　One slash, one cut, one pull, one tug—several forces unleashed at once. For a martial arts master, tearing off an arm is nothing remarkable.

　　Ethan Thompson's eyes showed appreciation. With a shake of his arm, like a giant python turning over, his sleeve fluttered, and for a moment it seemed to emit an iron-like force.

　　Within that shake was hidden the skill of "Eighteen Drops of Clinging Clothes," containing more than ten layers of force: rebound, stick, hook, sink, grip, dodge, crash, bump, snap...

　　For most martial arts masters, being able to produce four or five layers of force in a single shake is already impressive, but Ethan Thompson managed all eighteen, not missing a single one.

　　In "Eighteen Drops of Clinging Clothes," every move contains eighteen types of force: pushing forward, pulling back, channeling energy up and down, bracing left and right. In all six directions, every part is filled with fist force. Every gesture and step is like a fierce wind sweeping through the sky, breaking everything in its path.

　　When the Sickle Slash struck his arm, Brian Carter felt as if struck by lightning, stumbling backward repeatedly, a large bruise already appearing on her palm.

　　"Eighteen Drops of Clinging Clothes, eighteen layers of force!" She pressed on the bruised area, rubbing it quickly, channeling her energy to invigorate her blood. The bruise visibly faded before the naked eye—a sign of being able to control one's own blood flow: "How could someone at your level possess such a skill?"

　　"Let go of me." Grace Fisher snapped back to her senses and tried to shake off Ethan Thompson's hand, but it was like a mayfly shaking a great tree—completely ineffective. The exchange between Brian Carter and Jiang Li had happened in a flash, a slash and a shake, seemingly ordinary. To the untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than a simple tug-of-war, so she naturally assumed it was just a normal scuffle.

　　"Don't move." Brian Carter barked at Grace Fisher, casting a cold glance over. "This man is a top-tier master. Even I misjudged him. But why are you doing this? Kidnapping is a crime, you know?"

　　"I'm not kidnapping." Ethan Thompson shook his head and released Grace Fisher, his touch as gentle as drifting willow catkins. She wasn't harmed in the slightest; in fact, Grace Fisher felt that this man's hand was even softer than her own, like velvet. "Actually, I was testing your skills. You're her bodyguard, aren't you?"

　　"So what if I am?" Brian Carter didn't make any rash moves, her body slightly crouched like a tiger lying in wait, claws and fangs hidden, eyes wide and alert, sizing up her prey, ready to strike at any moment.

　　"Sit down, don't be so tense." Ethan Thompson flicked his wrist, flipping the teacup on the table, picked up the teapot, drew out a thin stream, and poured it into the purple clay cup. "Someone wants to kidnap Grace Fisher. I'm taking her somewhere to eliminate her hidden danger, and at the same time, eliminate my own. Though your martial arts are strong, you still can't protect her. Because your skills are still stuck at the stage of killing. That primal wildness you cultivate may be in line with nature, but it hasn't entered the Dao."

　　Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle... The tea poured into the cup like a clear spring striking a mountain stream. Ethan Thompson's tea-making movements were skillful and graceful, accompanied by the sound of mountains and flowing water.

　　Grace Fisher had received a good upbringing since childhood and had a deep appreciation for the art of tea, but she had never seen such elegant tea-making gestures.

　　"What is the Dao?" Brian Carter relaxed her posture, remembering that the person across from her was the son of the Li family, also a scion of the powerful, unlikely to do anything out of line.