Chen Feng awoke to find himself lying flat in a dense, overgrown forest.

He staggered to his feet and rinsed his face in a nearby ditch, trying to recall the events of the previous day.

Yesterday, he had caused chaos in the Imperial Palace, engaging in fierce combat within its walls, killing countless people. The frenzy of slaughter had caused him to lose a part of his true nature.

Shaking his head, he stood up. A strange feeling washed over him. Yesterday, after the exhaustive battle, he had only escaped through a surge of uncontrolled power. His body should have been utterly exhausted, yet instead, he felt invigorated, his entire body brimming with strength.

What was happening? He pondered for a long time without comprehension. When he looked inward to examine his Dantian, a wave of ecstatic joy surged through him: his cultivation had unknowingly reached the level of a Third-Grade Battle Master!

Suppressing the excitement bubbling inside, he circulated the power of his Qi Cyclone, feeling the subtle shifts in the energy within his body.

Reaching the third grade of the Battle Master realm meant reaching the peak of the initial consolidation phase for a Battle Master. Only at this level could one truly adapt to the existence of liquid Dou Qi, finally unleashing the true advantages of a liquid cyclone.

The power of the Qi Cyclone in his Dantian resembled a liquid vortex, slowly spinning at its center. The latent power contained within was more than ten times stronger than when it was just gaseous. Transparent ** constantly separated from the Dantian, nourishing the body’s tendons, bones, and muscles, making them even harder and stronger.

This transparent, liquid Qi Cyclone was indiscriminate toward elemental attributes, thus accelerating his absorption and cultivation speed by more than three times compared to before!

Feeling the physical changes brought by reaching Third-Grade Battle Master and the liquid Qi Cyclone, a smile spread across Chen Feng’s face.

At that moment, a ball of purple flame suddenly materialized on the tip of his right index finger. Chen Feng maintained his smile as the Qi Cyclone power in his Dantian spun faster and faster, causing the flame on his fingertip to burn hotter and hotter. Under the scorching heat, the very air seemed to distort slightly.

“Qi Cyclone Power 76%!” Chen Feng knew this after experimentation—this was the percentage of his internal Qi Cyclone power he could currently summon. “Advancing a whole level only yielded an additional 6% control over the Qi Cyclone power. It seems that after reaching the Battle Master realm, mastering the Qi Cyclone power becomes increasingly difficult. It’s like carrying a bucket of water one hundred meters: the first fifty meters might be simple, but the second fifty meters strain your arms, making it progressively harder until, perhaps, you can’t even lift your arm at the very end.”

“At the Fighter level, the progress in mastering Qi Cyclone power is relatively quick, like the first fifty meters of carrying water isn't too taxing. But once you reach the Battle Master realm, controlling the Qi Cyclone power becomes increasingly arduous, like the latter fifty meters of carrying water—even knowing the goal is near, the difficulty unreasonably increases.”

Chen Feng understood this principle clearly, so he paid no mind to the slow growth of his Qi Cyclone power.

“If I went berserk now, I could probably exert at least 80% of my Qi Cyclone power!” Chen Feng mused privately. “However, going berserk means losing control of consciousness and falling into a state of madness, which is indeed a headache.”

Chen Feng rubbed his forehead and looked inward at the frenzied blood he had created within his body. A strange expression flickered across his face. “Where did all that mad blood I created go?”

Dozens of drops of that mad blood had vanished into thin air after he awoke from his coma. Anyone would find this utterly inexplicable.

When he dove his consciousness deep into his body, searching every corner and confirming their complete absence, Chen Feng’s expression became quite dramatic.

“Could it be that because of the breakthrough, all that frenzied blood disappeared…” Chen Feng guessed wildly, finding no satisfying answer. Since he couldn't figure it out, he decided not to dwell on it and turned his attention to the spot where he had collapsed the night before. A crystal ball caught his eye.

This crystal ball appeared rather ordinary, holding no discernible peculiarity.

“Where did this thing come from?” Chen Feng frowned. His consciousness had been fuzzy after collapsing, so he had no idea that he had almost been bled dry the night before, nor did he know about the myriad changes that had occurred within him. Naturally, he was unaware that this crystal ball, which held 500 units of the Old Monster’s faith power, had been completely absorbed by his own Flame Dragon bloodline!

“Maybe I picked it up while I was berserk, but I can recall everything from that rampage. I can’t believe I picked up a crystal ball like this?” Chen Feng, utterly perplexed, tried hard to recall the moments of his frenzy.

He bent down and took the crystal ball into his palm. A chill radiated from it. Unaccountably, a surge of panic rose in his heart—a panic that arose for no discernible reason, as if something essential had just been ripped from his mind in an instant.

“What a strange object!” Chen Feng muttered. “It looks like a plain crystal ball, but it weighs nearly twice as much as a normal one. And why do I feel like it’s absorbing my mental perception? Truly bizarre! But it looks like a good item, I’ll keep it for now and figure it out later.”

With that thought, Chen Feng tossed the crystal ball into his water flask.

Stretching his back, he stood up and started walking deeper into the forest. Forests were usually avoided by people because one could never be certain which corner concealed a ferocious magical or combat beast. But Chen Feng didn't care. He had traversed Dragon Diagram Mountain fearlessly before; why should he fear anything now that he had reached Third-Grade Battle Master?

He hunted game and drank from mountain streams. Unconsciously, Chen Feng wandered this forest for nearly ten days. He could have used his Aerial Step Technique to fly, but he chose to travel on foot, enduring the hardship to consolidate his Third-Grade cultivation.

Furthermore, having wreaked havoc on the Luóqí Empire’s Imperial Palace and killed Emperor Suǒmén, he knew they certainly wouldn't let the matter rest. Going out now would undoubtedly lead to pursuit.

After staying in the forest for four or five more days, Chen Feng finally emerged, using the Aerial Step Technique to fly out. As he flew high above the forest upon exiting, he looked toward the only passage leading out. Contrary to his expectation, there were no soldiers guarding the exit; instead, it looked completely ordinary and unremarkable.

Did they know he fled into the forest and simply decided not to search?

Chen Feng couldn't quite accept this conclusion. He had shot five arrows at Emperor Suǒmén, who had died due to his inability to evade them, but the Seventh Prince couldn't possibly be dead! Even if Chen Feng had kicked him unconscious, he was wearing Dragon Armor, and the collapsing hall absolutely could not have injured him even slightly.

Given the Seventh Prince’s character, he wouldn't just let this go!

There must be some follow-up strategy. Although Chen Feng was immensely arrogant, daring to storm the Luóqí Imperial Palace alone to assassinate Emperor Suǒmén, he deeply disliked the "follow-up measures" employed by royalty. Assassination attempts, if ceaseless, could indeed become bothersome. Chen Feng wasn't afraid, but he found it troublesome.

To minimize such trouble, he resolved to hurry forward. As long as he crossed the boundary of the Luóqí Empire and reached the Fēnlài Empire, even the most enraged pursuers couldn't possibly deploy large forces to chase him into another country.

Having made up his mind, Chen Feng transformed into a streak of light in the air and flew straight toward the direction of Nuòbǐ City.

He found lodging in random places at night and spent his days traveling. After four or five days of unmeasured travel, he stopped, slowly descending, and headed toward the largest nearby town.

It was a medium-sized settlement. From afar, he saw two lines of soldiers standing sternly at the city gate, each gripping a longsword, inspecting everyone entering with fierce looks.

“They’re probably checking for news about me,” Chen Feng surmised. “It seems the Luóqí Imperial family’s reaction is to search every town to prevent me from entering. But then again, my red hair and black suit are too conspicuous; anyone could recognize me.”

“If this proves too difficult, I’ll have to detour!” Chen Feng thought, about to find a secluded spot to activate his Aerial Step Technique, when a youth walked past him.

Seeing the youth’s attire and styling, Chen Feng’s expression immediately turned peculiar.

This youth had bright red hair cascading over his shoulders. He was robust and strong, wearing a black suit over an oversized white undershirt... Upon closer inspection, even the drawstrings in the middle of his red trousers were identical to Chen Feng’s own.

“What… what is going on? Could the Luóqí Imperial family have intentionally dressed someone like this to lure me out?” Chen Feng shook his head even as he considered this, unconvinced by the reasoning. If many people dressed this way, it would actually be more advantageous for him, making it harder for others to track him. Why would the enemy be so foolish as to do such a thing?

He looked suspiciously at the youth dressed exactly like him. The youth walked up to the city gate, where the stern soldiers merely glanced at him, murmured a few words, and then let him pass.

Seeing this, Chen Feng, who had initially thought his attire was unique, followed the flow of people toward the gate.

The city guards, seeing Chen Feng’s appearance and outfit, cast a disdainful look his way and remarked, “Another one trying to look cool. I really don’t know what these kids are thinking!”

“Trying to look cool?” Chen Feng paused, completely failing to grasp their meaning.

“Hurry up and go in, or do you want me to throw you in?” the soldier barked when Chen Feng hesitated.

Chen Feng ignored the shouting from this petty functionary and slowly walked through the gate, his confusion deepening. Had he killed Emperor Suǒmén and stormed the Luóqí Imperial Palace, and they just let it go? There seemed to be absolutely no "follow-up measures"! And what was the deal with seeing others dressed exactly like him?

After thinking for a long time, finding it all baffling, he looked up ahead. The street was lined with shops; although it wasn't as bustling as Nuòbǐ City, it was certainly better than Kùtǎ Town.

He walked along the street. Not far ahead, a cluster of rather luxurious restaurants stood. Chen Feng paused, then headed towards them. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in weeks while traveling through the mountains. Now that he was in a town, he could finally feast and, perhaps, inquire why others were dressed identically to him.

As he approached, he saw a large banner fluttering in the wind, bearing the three golden characters: “Kè Lái Lín” (Guest Arrives). The calligraphy was bold and vigorous, subtly exuding an aura of unchallenged dominance, full of martial spirit.

The exterior of “Kè Lái Lín” was sumptuously decorated. Crystal magic lamps, shimmering like glazed glass, flickered before the entrance. A crimson carpet was laid all the way to the doorway, signaling high status. It appeared even more magnificent than the Purple Cloud Pavilion in Nuòbǐ City, confirming it was likely the best establishment in town.

Upon entering “Kè Lái Lín,” a waiter hurried over. However, after sizing up Chen Feng’s age and attire, he glanced behind him several times. Once certain no one else was there, he couldn't help but ask, “Just you alone?”

“What about it?” Chen Feng didn't understand the question and answered casually.

“Nothing, it’s just that if you’re alone, coming to a place like this might…” The waiter hesitated in his speech.

“What’s wrong with me being alone?” Chen Feng pressed.

“I mean… the prices here are very high. You’re just a child; you probably can’t afford it without an elder accompanying you…” The waiter finally put it plainly.

Chen Feng was momentarily stunned. He looked at his current appearance and couldn't help but shake his head. After days traversing the mountains, his clothes were filthy. The clothes he had made in Gé Nàm Town were destroyed in previous fights and were no longer wearable. The clothes remaining in his water flask consisted only of the set he currently wore.

“If you give me the money then…” Chen Feng felt a slight, wry amusement at the waiter’s judgment based on appearance and began to say,

“It’s not that I’m making things difficult, sir, but we have a rule here. Perhaps you could pay a deposit first…” The waiter’s voice sounded strange as he kept glancing sideways at Chen Feng, clearly convinced he couldn't produce the money.

“A deposit?” Seeing that look, a flicker of anger ignited in Chen Feng’s heart. He said coldly, “What if I refuse to pay a deposit?”

When the waiter saw Chen Feng’s cold eyes, he felt a chill pierce his bones. A bizarre sensation suddenly overcame him, as if this youth might actually kill him. Cold sweat streamed down his neck. Ordinary people might not be sensitive to killing intent, but they could instinctively sense who was easy to provoke and who wasn't. This waiter had worked here for years and possessed a natural instinct for reading people’s minds. Chen Feng’s murderous intent was palpable—how could that not terrify him?

“N-n-nothing… nothing at all…” The waiter, overwhelmed by fright, stammered, his usually fluent tongue tripping over itself.

“Hurry up!” Chen Feng snapped, then turned away from the waiter and ascended the stairs to the second floor.

Only after Chen Feng had gone did the waiter wipe the cold sweat from his brow. That chilling glare from the red-haired youth had left him feeling strangely unsettled. “What’s wrong with me? Am I getting timid? This is Kè Lái Lín; who dares cause trouble here?”

Despite thinking this, he dared not act or speak on it, meekly taking the menu upstairs.

Chen Feng casually ordered a few dishes and chose a seat near the window. It wasn't yet mealtime, so the second floor was sparsely populated with just a few individuals. The closest to him were a burly man and a refined youth.

Chen Feng sat down, sipping the water the waiter had poured, casually watching the crowded street below. What puzzled him most was the sight of so many youths on the street with dyed red hair and dressed exactly like him. Most of them were quite young. These youths behaved wildly, walking with their heads held high, seemingly scorning everything, and frequently bickering or even fighting with others. Yet, upon closer observation, all these youths possessed weak cultivation; some weren't even Fighters, yet they acted so arrogantly. Were they mad, or just foolish?

While Chen Feng was contemplating these ignorant youths, a low voice reached his ears from not far away.

“Hey, I heard there’s more to Emperor Suǒmén’s demise than meets the eye!” the burly man cautiously said to the refined youth across from him.

The refined youth grew immediately interested and quickly asked, “What details?”

Although their voices were low, Chen Feng’s senses, sharpened by reaching the Battle Master realm, captured their entire conversation clearly.

“I heard a red-haired youth named Bā Shén Ān stormed the Imperial Palace and killed him in broad daylight?” the burly man said.

“Bā Shén Ān? You mean the Bā Shén Ān who won the championship in our Empire’s Rookie Selection Tournament?” the refined youth asked doubtfully.

“Who else would it be?” the burly man replied. “I heard this fellow stormed the palace alone, defeating every expert there, and finally shot down the palace roof, crushing Emperor Suǒmén to death.”

“He single-handedly assaulted the palace and defeated all the experts?” The youth gasped upon hearing this. “Being able to compete in the Rookie Selection Tournament means he’s under 25. How can someone under 25 be that formidable?”

“Who knows!” The burly man also showed envy. “I heard the palace was awash in blood. This Bā Shén Ān stood alone inside the palace and roared three times, yet not a single person dared to challenge him!”

“Incredible!” the youth exclaimed. “Actually, I heard something similar a few days ago, but I didn't hear clearly and thought people were joking. I never expected it to be true! And I never imagined the one who raged through the palace was my idol, Bā Shén Ān! You know, ever since I heard how he defeated the Seventh Prince—who wore Dragon Armor, wielded a Talisman Sword, and had a Fourth-Grade magical beast accompanying him—and achieved total victory, I knew I had a goal in life: to apprentice under him!”

“You? Dream on. Do you know how many people in just our town want to apprentice under him? Even if you lined up ten kilometers long, it probably wouldn't be enough! Not to mention how many towns like ours are in the Luóqí Empire!” the burly man scoffed.

“I know, I’m just saying. But in my heart, he is already my master, an absolute idol! Alas, heaven is jealous of talent; I heard he’s already dead.” The youth sighed, a shadow of melancholy crossing his face.

“Sigh…” The burly man also sighed. “I heard that after he killed Emperor Suǒmén, he alarmed the palace mages. They eventually dispatched several hundred Magisters, fighting him day and night, still without a clear victor. In the end, the people inside the palace used despicable means to kill him.”

“That’s outrageous!” The youth slammed the table. “When they can’t win in a fair fight, they resort to dirty tricks. The officials of this Empire have always been like this!”

The refined youth spoke a bit too loudly, sounding like an impassioned radical.

“Shh… keep it down, this is an inn!” the burly man looked around and whispered. “This is inside information I heard from people traveling from the Imperial Capital. But whether it’s true or not, I truly admire this Bā Shén Ān. He had such courage! Daring to challenge the entire royal family of the Suǒmén Empire alone… However, I’m curious, why would he want to assassinate Emperor Suǒmén? After winning the Rookie Tournament, the Emperor treated him so well; anyone in the Empire must know that. Why did he still do it?”

“That’s easy! The Seventh Prince, whom he defeated, must have been stirring up trouble. Think about it: the Seventh Prince was once the foremost figure in our Luóqí Empire. Being so utterly defeated in the Rookie Tournament, how could he swallow that humiliation? So, he must have secretly schemed, and Bā Shén Ān must have seen through it, leading to his furious assault on the palace!” the refined youth declared with certainty.

“Mmm, that makes sense. You are clever; you figured that out just by listening to a few snippets. But why didn’t Bā Shén Ān target the Seventh Prince directly and just kill Emperor Suǒmén?” the burly man inquired.

“This…” The refined youth was clearly stumped and speechless, unable to explain this logic.

The burly man seemed to notice his difficulty, quickly pouring him more wine. “Drink, drink. These matters are beyond our concern. Let’s just be content knowing there was a person named Bā Shén Ān who single-handedly took on an imperial palace and killed the Emperor!”

“That’s true…” The refined youth raised his glass, downed the wine in one gulp, and shouted heartily.

Chen Feng scoffed internally. As citizens of the Luóqí Empire, these men showed no sorrow over Emperor Suǒmén’s death; instead, they seemed almost celebratory, which Chen Feng found rather amusing. It seemed that no matter where you went, there would always be radicals. These two were clearly the type who held radical views and deeply resented the darkness within the Empire.

“Alas… true heroes are hard to find; where can we find another like him!” The refined youth’s face flushed after finishing his drink. He sighed, then continued, “Look at the youths in our city now—almost every single one dyes their hair red, wears black clothes, and that oversized white shirt underneath, mimicking Bā Shén Ān’s style and posturing. It’s shameless! They swagger around during the day, but if they actually saw real blood, they’d run faster than anyone! These people are all just trash!”

The burly man nodded, his eyes flicking toward Chen Feng before he whispered, “Keep your voice down; there’s one right behind us. Don't let him hear you!”

The youth cast a scornful glance at Chen Feng, a hint of disdain in his eyes. “So what if he hears? Just dressing like Bā Shén Ān gives him Bā Shén Ān’s spirit? They’re just a bunch of spoiled, reckless noble sons who don't know death awaits them.” He then made a provocative gesture toward Chen Feng. In his view, Chen Feng was a fake Bā Shén Ān, dressing up merely to attract girls—just posturing, completely lacking in strength.

Chen Feng smiled slightly at the refined youth’s behavior but did not take offense.

Through their conversation, Chen Feng had a general understanding of the current situation. He never expected that his performance in the Rookie Selection Contest would have driven all the young men in the Loki Empire into a frenzy. For the sake of looking cool, they were all donning the same clothes as him and dyeing their hair red, strutting about, using this peculiar attire to catch the attention of girls.

This was akin to the celebrity effect in his past life; whatever endorsements a star made, regardless of whether the clothing was good or bad, its value would skyrocket. Chen Feng was in precisely that position now. Back then, His Majesty Suomen had erected a brilliant banner for him out of fear of retaliation from the Overseas Continent, a banner that drove the youth of the entire Loki Empire wild, resulting in the current state of affairs.

Yet, this worked out for the best. By maintaining his current appearance, others would merely view him as a youth going with the flow and would never suspect him of being the true Iori Yagami.

Moreover, based on the tone of these two individuals, the rumor circulating from the Loki Empire’s royal family was that he was dead. This was likely a measure by the royals to save face. He had successfully slain the Emperor of the Loki Empire and escaped unharmed. If that news got out, how could the royal family maintain any shred of dignity?

Chen Feng’s thoughts were close to the truth, but he could never have guessed that the source of the rumor lay with the dozen or so Magisters who fled that night, including Yu Ou. Those Magisters were far too confident in the explosive power of their magic; they never imagined he could escape the blast radius at the last moment, so they all assumed he had perished in the explosion.

Although Chen Feng himself had wondered why these Magisters didn't continue searching for him after casting their spells, allowing him to survive by sheer luck, he could never have predicted that the real reason they hadn't pursued him was their encounter with the Skyhawk Beasts!

Thus, through a chain of coincidences, Chen Feng had become a "dead man." It made sense that no town had initiated any manhunt for him; even the biggest idiot wouldn't launch a pursuit for someone already deceased!

Thinking this over, Chen Feng grasped the general outline of events. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, a sliver of doubt remained in his heart. His intuition told him the matter was far from simple. If that were truly the case, why hadn't the Loki Empire's royalty forbidden the young men from dyeing their hair red and wearing clothes like his?

He rubbed his head. His ordered food had arrived by then, so he dismissed the thought and focused on eating.

“See? Even if this weakling wears Iori Yagami’s clothes, he’s still trash!” The refined youth became even more arrogant and smug when he saw his provocation received no reaction.

Hot-blooded youths, or "hotheads," are those who loudly object to anything they disapprove of. Chen Feng merely offered a noncommittal smile upon hearing the refined youth’s words and continued to eat without looking up.

Just then, a series of heavy footsteps—thump, thump, thump—echoed from downstairs as four figures ascended the staircase.

The one leading the group wore robes of pristine white magic-patterned cloth; his appearance was handsome and refined. The three behind him were noticeably inferior in bearing and lacked his striking looks; in fact, they appeared somewhat lewd, yet they were all richly dressed, clearly indicating they came from wealthy or noble families.

The waiter who had been challenging Chen Feng earlier hurried ahead of the white-robed youth, bowing and scraping, “Young Master Isaac, please come in. We have the best private room reserved…”

The white-robed youth, Isaac, replied, “No need. We’ll sit here in the main hall. It’s more airy here; better than being cooped up inside!”

The waiter quickly acquiesced, “Young Master Isaac is right; the private rooms can indeed feel stuffy. Please come this way, then. This area is close to the window and offers a perfect view of the street traffic!”

“Good,” Isaac agreed.

The four simultaneously settled at a table not far from Chen Feng.

The waiter’s demeanor instantly shifted; he was unrecognizable from how he had treated Chen Feng, bustling about with surprising politeness. Chen Feng secretly sighed, recognizing the power of money at work.

“Isaac, we handled the matter you requested. You’re not going to dismiss us with just one meal, are you?” The man seated opposite Isaac spoke first.

“Fettino, what kind of person do you take me for? I will certainly fulfill my promise to you,” Isaac said, casually tossing out a business card. “There are ten thousand gold coins in here. Brothers, you can divide them up!”

Fettino’s face immediately broke into a smile upon seeing the card. “Isaac is generous as always. You know my brothers and I are low on funds. You know how that old stubborn mule at my family’s place guards the money—I have no choice!”

Isaac chuckled, “You don’t need to worry about money when you’re with me. I already own fourteen trading houses; generating funds is hardly an issue. Let’s stick to the old arrangement: I provide the money, you provide the muscle. That way, things get handled smoothly!”

The remaining three men broke into smiles, evidently pleased with some substantial benefit they expected to gain.

Chen Feng wasn't intentionally eavesdropping, but the mere proximity meant their casual conversation—their trading talk—rang clearly in his ears. These men were conducting transactions openly in the main hall without regard for propriety—a display of extreme arrogance.

If these four knew what Chen Feng was thinking, they would certainly cry foul, "Us? Arrogant? Then what do you call breaking into the Imperial Palace and killing His Majesty Suomen..."

“The person I require today, you absolutely must bring him to me!” Isaac stated.

“Rest assured,” Fettino replied with a smile. “We’ve cooperated for so long; we understand the rules. Wait here a moment. My men should arrive shortly!”

“I have won 92 matches in the Centurion Butcher competition. I only need eight more wins to secure the City Lord’s exemption. I absolutely cannot allow any surprises in these next eight bouts!” Isaac declared.

“We are well aware of that. After all, if Isaac obtains the City Lord’s exemption, we brothers benefit too. Once your trading houses spread across the entire town, if we truly run out of money and ask you for help, you won’t refuse, will you?” one of Fettino’s companions said, chuckling.

“Naturally…” Isaac paused, then lowered his voice, “Anyone whose strength surpasses mine, I want them eliminated before they even step onto the stage! Especially that big fellow who arrived yesterday. The man is built like an iron tower; you can tell he’s strong just by looking at him. I sent someone to secretly scout him last night—he’s actually an Eighth-Tier Swordsman! Damn it, who can win against an Eighth-Tier Swordsman entering the commercial Centurion Butcher competition?”

“Heh heh, you don’t need to worry. I estimate that once my men get there, that Eighth-Tier Swordsman will obediently come over shortly,” Fettino said with a smile.

“Look at his stubborn demeanor—does he look like someone who would come willingly? Even that one-armed fellow is twice as formidable as me!” Isaac sighed.

“When I say obediently, I don’t mean he’ll walk over himself, but rather… have someone carry him over! Hahaha…” Fettino grinned mischievously.

“You mean use illegitimate means…” Isaac seemed to grasp the implication.

“Of course. Using legitimate methods, even my subordinate here might not be able to defeat that one-armed madman,” Fettino admitted.

While the four were discussing this, a rapid series of footsteps sounded from downstairs; it looked like a group of people was ascending.

“They’re here…” Fettino chuckled, rising to his feet just as a one-armed giant, nearly two meters tall, was carried up the staircase. The giant showed no visible external wounds, yet his entire body was convulsing uncontrollably, suggesting some severe internal injury.

“You truly have skill!” Isaac praised, walking up to the convulsing giant. “I know your strength is considerable, but you will still die by my hand. Tomorrow’s Centurion Butcher will naturally see me advance automatically due to your absence!”

“You…” the giant rasped out a single word, his heart likely feeling more insulted than injured.

Hearing the sound the giant made, Chen Feng, who had been eating, suddenly stood up. A flicker of unreadable light shone in his eyes as he turned toward the injured one-armed giant lying on the floor.

Chen Feng’s body trembled slightly with agitation as he approached, staring intently at the tower of a man on the ground. “Are you Longchibart from Dragon Mountain Town?”

The giant’s eyes suddenly lit up with a strange expression. “You… how do you know…”

“Hahahaha…” Chen Feng suddenly burst into unrestrained laughter, his voice chillingly cold. “I never expected to run into you here!”

Longchibart was Feliabart’s biological elder brother. When Chen Feng had first traversed here, he had been treated with disdain by Longchibart, leading to a two-year pact between them. Although they had met only once, Longchibart’s impression of Chen Feng was too deep; thus, the moment he heard the voice, he recognized the man.

“Who are you?”

Chen Feng’s appearance had changed drastically, and his hair was fully red again, so Longchibart failed to recognize him immediately.

Before Chen Feng could speak, several of the men who carried Longchi up began shouting abuse, “Who the hell are you popping up from? Get out of the way! My young master is busy; can’t you see?”

Chen Feng fixed his gaze coldly on the arrogant youth who had spoken and spat out a single word: “Scram!”

The youth flushed with anger at the command. “Oh? You think you’re tough, do you? Just because you dye your hair red and wear a black coat, you think you’re Iori Yagami? Let me tell you, I’m a Fifth-Tier Fighter. In my eyes, you’re nothing but…”

Before his words finished, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes bulged out like a dead fish’s, and with a thud, he collapsed onto the floorboards.

“Ah…”

Clang…

The waiter who had been bringing up the dishes witnessed the scene, letting out a strangled cry of horror that made his whole body shake violently.

“He… he actually dared to kill someone…” The waiter’s legs felt weak, no longer obeying his commands.

“He…” The refined youth who had been mocking Chen Feng earlier was left gaping, unable to utter a single word. This man had killed a Fifth-Tier Fighter in a single strike without even blinking—what level of strength was that? And yet, he had just spent his time frantically ridiculing him…

…………………………The following is free…………………………

PS: Today is the Mid-Autumn Festival. First, I wish everyone a happy holiday!

Old Ya is currently staying in Qinghai, about 5,000 miles away from his hometown (I’m from Shandong; I didn't dare tell my family I quit my job, so I can’t go back). It’s lonely not being able to celebrate the festival with family, haha. But today’s chapter is still released on time! Today’s update is 12,000 characters!

This might be the toughest Mid-Autumn Festival Old Ya has ever experienced. I unexpectedly spent the entire day writing in a room less than ten square meters (the house has been rented, but I can only move in tomorrow)…

Brothers, please share some of the holiday cheer with Old Ya! Cast all your monthly tickets to Old Ya so I can be happy celebrating with you all here!!! (To be continued. For future developments, please visit www**com, where more chapters are available. Support the author and genuine reading!)

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