Chapter Eighty-One: I Will Neither Flee Nor Hide

Non-renewable resources.

That was how Ji Ning described Lan Yi’s enemies, which spoke volumes about his attitude toward them.

They had directly created the future demon of the Jianghe civilization, plunging society into decades of violent unrest, affecting thousands upon thousands, and causing irreparable losses to the fledgling strength of the era. Several gifted psychic cultivators with the potential to become powerhouses perished in their pursuit of Lan Yi.

By any standard of punishment, these beasts deserved to be dragged into the public square and made targets for a week—executed by heavy machine guns or even artillery would be too lenient!

For those who had been reborn, the past was immutable. But now, things could change.

Led by Ji Ning and Zhang Shouzheng’s faction, once they made a breakthrough, they decisively handed this group of vermin—already abandoned by any sense of humanity—over to Lan Yi.

“They're down below, underground,” Ji Ning said, pointing at the ground.

Through the slightly tilted helicopter hatch, Lan Yi spotted an unremarkable facility on the outskirts, resembling little more than a construction site barracks.

The helicopter had already left the city, changing course several times en route. This was a place unmarked on any map; the aboveground barracks were a façade, concealing the true depths below. It was a temporary military underground stronghold, built to shelter those psychic cultivators who, for various reasons, had to flee and go into hiding.

“We meet again,” Lan Yi murmured with a faint smile.

“For many of them, it’s actually their first time,” Ji Ning shrugged, the young bureaucrat adding, “Mr. Lan, when we detained them, we made a point to mention you.”

The implication was clear. They hadn’t killed this pack of scum, but physical suffering was inevitable. As they vented their anger, there was no shortage of verbal reminders: this is why you’ve ended up here.

They had offended the one man in the world they could never afford to cross.

Their fate was likely to vanish without a trace.

Pitiful? Compared to their original fate—where, in full view of the world, they were blown to pieces by the martial arts master Lan Yi, with friends and family caught in the carnage, or when, in Lan Yi’s apocalyptic rampage, countless innocents died in despair and confusion—their current ending was almost merciful.

But that mercy would end here. What Lan Yi would do next had nothing to do with clemency or compassion.

The helicopter touched down smoothly.

A squad of black-clad, heavily armed personnel, faces obscured and identities hidden, stood guard. According to Ji Ning, these were elite troops, selected specifically to deal with psychic cultivator emergencies in the near future. As for why only for a period—clearly, only psychic cultivators could handle their kind. When everyone became a cultivator, these soldiers would have no place in the old order.

Lan Yi, guided by Ji Ning, headed into the barracks.

His mind flickered with images of his enemies: the office “brother” who stabbed him in the back; the affable boss who offered gentle reassurances; the yellow-haired man who “helped” him regulate his schedule for 48 hours straight without sleep, slimming him down in the process; the dignified elder who impatiently told the rabble to “wait for notice”; the refined figure who showcased her strength, raised cats, and sipped coffee; and the ever-diligent henchman who fanned the flames.

Talent, every one of them!

All their “buffs” had stacked to the limit. To restrain himself from killing them for even a second was a feat of sainthood.

In his previous life, when they died, Lan Yi always asked them, “Do you realize your mistake?”

Every answer was the same: “I was wrong! Spare me!”

Perhaps they wondered: How did things end up this way? How did the commoner take up arms?

Indeed, Old Demon Lan himself never understood. He was a dutiful, honest worker—just because he’d saved a little money, just because he wanted a bit of fairness, how had it come to this?

It wasn’t until the cyberpunk era of artificial gods that Lan Yi finally attained enlightenment.

He wasn’t the one with the problem!

Perhaps the agitation of old memories made his aura surge with emotion—a chilling psychic presence swept over the crowd, leaving everyone stunned, as if struck by lightning, frozen under the gaze of the apex predator.

“This demon’s spiritual presence is almost a manifestation!” Ji Ning felt it most clearly—a suffocating, terrifying power!

When people regained their senses, Lan Yi had already appeared, ghost-like, before one of the guards.

“You seem very afraid of me, don’t you?”

The black-clad guard trembled.

Zhang Shouzheng’s expression changed slightly.

“Let’s see who you really are,” Lan Yi said, sensing something amiss, and acted.

A sharp crack split the air.

To the ordinary eye, it was merely a blur. Suddenly, a tactical helmet appeared in Lan Yi’s hand, while the man who’d lost both helmet and nearly his head was thrown ten meters away. Pale as death, he stared at Old Demon Lan, terror written across his face.

Tossing the helmet up and down, Lan Yi mused, half-suspicious, half-contemplative: “I think I’ve seen you before—the holder of Life Cluster [One-Three].”

Life Cluster [One-Three], location: brain. Ability: can briefly seize others’ psychic manifestations; with a complete Life Diagram, can turn a manifestation or Life Cluster into a puppet, multiplying endlessly—so long as the original lives, his army is inexhaustible.

“Lan Yi, I didn’t expect you to spot this puppet so quickly.”

Stephen Chen—a hybrid, as his name suggested. A psychic cultivator from the Oceanic civilization.

Even he hadn’t anticipated that, upon meeting Old Demon Lan’s gaze, his mind would be seized by such overwhelming fear that it instantly gave him away.

Damn it—was their plan to fail before it even began?

“Your enemies are all below, and we’re waiting for you down there!” With that, Stephen Chen yanked at a defensive grenade.

Boom!

But it wasn’t the grenade that exploded—it was a sudden, invisible psychic shock.

Zhang Shouzheng had acted.

His eyes turned pure white, and with the combination of Life Cluster [Spirit Burst] and [White Speech], he unleashed a precise psychic blast, instantly disabling Stephen Chen’s puppet consciousness.

[Three-One] probably hadn’t fully taken over this body yet—there was still hope.

If Old Demon Lan had acted, there would have been none.

Whether with electromagnetic techniques or martial arts, killing in the early stages was a matter of moments—swift and ruthless.

Lan Yi appeared beside Stephen Chen.

“Don’t worry. I won’t run, I won’t hide. I’ll slaughter my way through, head-on!”

“No matter who you are—no one will be spared!”

“You’re welcome to try to kill me, if you think you can!”

With his realm at most at the Life Cluster and Human Manifestation stages, Lan Yi was impatient to see what these first-wave psychic cultivators had prepared for him.