Chapter 52: The More You Try to Unravel, the Tighter It Gets

Baozi had already experienced Muchen’s way of thinking—one could not judge him by ordinary standards. Seeing Muchen step forward, Baozi hurriedly grabbed him. “This is all my doing, please don’t strike!”

No sooner had Baozi spoken than Muchen’s coin sword swept out. One of the spirits collided with the blade, emitting a heartrending scream as it was instantly obliterated. The soul-searching and spirit-gathering technique was notorious for harming lives and shortening lifespans, and now, with Muchen’s blow, the spirit was utterly destroyed. The karmic burden would inevitably fall upon Baozi.

At that moment, over a hundred soldiers were thrown into chaos, the officer’s shouting proving utterly futile. Baozi attempted to send a spirit to harm the officer, but the spirit refused to obey, remaining motionless.

“That man carries the aura of a minister; no demon or ghost can approach him,” Muchen observed Baozi’s confusion and explained.

“What’s this aura of a minister?” Baozi asked, puzzled.

Muchen responded with a hint of disdain, curling his lip. “The Emperor bears the dragon’s aura, ministers are protected by their office’s aura, cultivators are shielded by spiritual energy, and ordinary folk have only ancestral blessings to rely on. How do you not know such basic truths?”

As they spoke, Zhou Yi had already broken free from the soldiers’ grasp. He charged straight at the officer—imbued with spiritual energy, Zhou Yi was far beyond the officer’s abilities. It took less than a round to knock the officer to the ground.

Earlier, when the officer had ordered the soldiers to restrain him, they had used excessive force; the officer had even pointed a gun at Zhou Yi’s head. Zhou Yi landed a heavy punch right on the officer’s skull.

“You dare point a gun at me? I’ll beat you to death!” Zhou Yi declared, swinging his fist again.

As Zhou Yi was pummeling the officer, a figure rapidly approached from the distance—dressed in a black robe and light cloud boots, his feet barely touched the ground as he sped forward.

“Stop! What wild cultivator dares use evil arts to harm others? Today, I, Ji Liang, shall rid the world of you!” With these words, Ji Liang rushed at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi, seeing Ji Liang charge, immediately released the officer and retreated. Raising his eyes, he recognized Ji Liang—a familiar face.

The two locked eyes, both recognizing each other, blurting out instinctively, “It’s you?”

Ji Liang was the very man who had twice led expeditions into the mountains seeking the dragon vein. When Zhou Yi emerged from the Eight Trigrams Formation, he had seen five men attempting to harm the giant python guarding the dragon vein. Zhou Yi had slain four and one escaped—Ji Liang was the survivor.

When enemies meet, their eyes blaze with fury. Ji Liang ignored the lingering spirits harming others, drew his pistol from his waist and fired at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi was fully alert, dodging aside the instant Ji Liang pulled the trigger; the bullet grazed past his ear. Before Ji Liang could fire again, Zhou Yi rushed in, grabbed the pistol’s slide, pushed and pulled—it was quickly disassembled.

Seeing his gun rendered useless, Ji Liang tossed it aside and threw a punch at Zhou Yi. The two were locked in fierce combat, while the nearby officer seized the opportunity, drew his own pistol, and fired at Zhou Yi.

Previously, Ji Liang had fought Zhou Yi in the mountain’s heart, only to be subdued in moments. Now, with the officer firing from the side, the back-and-forth was relentless—the two exchanged dozens of blows, neither yielding.

Baozi, lurking in the shadows, would not let Zhou Yi face danger alone. With a shout, he charged at the officer. But Baozi was still commanding over ten spirits; as he dashed forward, the spirits lost their master, fleeing from the soldiers’ bodies into the courtyard.

The hundred escaping soldiers returned once the ominous wind dissipated, regrouping at a distance with their guns aimed at Baozi and Zhou Yi, ready to fire at the slightest misstep.

Both men were forced to focus every ounce of attention—any lapse would be met by a hail of bullets. Danger was everywhere.

Gunfire echoed through the midnight city. At that moment, Liu the Boss of the Eight Alleys arrived with his men. Seeing the soldiers also hunting Zhou Yi and Baozi, he sneered coldly.

“Soldiers, these two are slippery. We’ll help block their escape,” Liu said, his men sealing off the other exit.

A single street, soldiers ahead, Liu’s men behind, betrayal at every turn. Zhou Yi and Baozi stood alone, faced with certain doom.

Xunfeng, seeing Liu arrive, his eyes bloodshot once more.

From afar, Xunfeng was still entangled with two soldiers. For the first time, Zhou Yi ordered him to kill. Hearing the command, Xunfeng immediately stopped, raising his hind legs—those two soldiers seemed to collide with his hooves by themselves, sent flying.

Xunfeng paused, then leapt forward, sinking his teeth into a soldier’s neck with a crunch—the windpipe snapped, death imminent.

With Xunfeng rampaging, the soldiers were no match. He charged through the crowd again and again, unstoppable.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yi was growing desperate. In his earlier fight with the officer, he had held back out of fear for the officer’s status. Now, trapped with no way out, there was no room for restraint.

“Baozi, catch! We fight our way out!” Zhou Yi shouted, tossing the Fire of Departure to Baozi, and drew a dagger from his pant leg, stabbing straight at Ji Liang’s chest.

Ji Liang dodged, but Zhou Yi’s next thrust aimed for Ji Liang’s throat. Ji Liang stumbled, his movements growing frantic—this stab cut through his chest, sinking deep into flesh.

A sudden gunshot rang out, startlingly abrupt. Turning to Baozi, Zhou Yi saw him staring down at the bleeding hole in his chest, right above his heart, blood gushing forth. Baozi hurriedly pressed his left hand to the wound.

“Baozi!” Zhou Yi cried out, rushing to support him, quickly pressing several pressure points on Baozi’s chest to staunch the bleeding. “Wait for me—I’ll make them all pay with their lives. Every last one.” His voice grew hoarse.

The shot had come from Liu’s men. Zhou Yi turned his cold, narrow gaze on Liu—the chill in his eyes sent shivers through all who met it.

Since blood had already been spilled, mercy was no longer an option. Zhou Yi moved, darting behind Ji Liang. Before Ji Liang could turn, Zhou Yi plunged his dagger into Ji Liang’s back.

The blade sank to the hilt. Zhou Yi pulled it free, blood spraying from the wound. He licked the blood from the blade, gave a cold, menacing smile, and without pause, charged at Liu’s crew.

Liu’s men were ordinary folk, but each was armed with a rifle. Seeing Zhou Yi rush at them, they fired in unison—a hail of bullets rained down on the street.

Even the swiftest reflexes were useless against such chaos—a bullet sped toward Zhou Yi’s heart. He managed to dodge just enough that it struck his left shoulder instead.

Staggering, Zhou Yi leapt up, twisted midair, and drove his dagger toward Liu’s chest. Liu, accustomed to bullying the Eight Alleys, had never felt the terror of death. When he saw Zhou Yi’s dagger coming, he instinctively retreated.

Zhou Yi landed, ran two quick steps, grabbed Liu’s collar, and in a flash appeared behind him, pressing the dagger to Liu’s throat.

Such disastrous grades, utterly infuriating. Why are the clicks so low? Heroes, lend your aid—another chapter awaits tonight.