The transport plane hadn't even settled before the cargo ramp dropped with impatient haste. A young man, clad in a black cloak and clutching a crystal staff, was the first to leap from the fuselage. (This book is reprinted by Wenxue1. .6.) The cloak was an abyss of black, lined with blood-red silk, contrasting sharply with the young man's raven hair and pallid, almost blue-white complexion. A gust of frigid wind, whipping large raindrops sideways, tore through the air. His long hair danced wildly in the blast, the cloak billowing like a bat’s wings, and a profoundly evil aura surged heavenward.

Gu Xiechen’s sharp eyes noted the crystal staff was engraved all over with strange talismans and patterns, its head topped by a fist-sized demonic visage with a pointed apex.

A dozen men, all dressed in severe black tailcoats, filed out of the cabin sequentially, trailing closely behind the young man as they strode toward the ancient castle.

The bald elder, Peter, had inexplicably materialized by the great gate of the castle. He gestured furiously and roared an accusation at the young man, but the youth merely shot him a piercing glare. Peter immediately grunted, staggered backward more than ten steps. A series of chilling, 'Hehehe' evil chuckles escaped the young man’s lips as he walked effortlessly into the castle.

“It seems we have an unwelcome visitor who has nothing to do with us!” Gu Xiechen gave Lawrence a strange look.

From the young man and the dozen retainers behind him, Gu Xiechen sensed a peculiar familiarity. They shared some kind of common ground with him.

A cacophony of noise erupted from the castle's first floor, followed by the muffled thud of physical impacts. In less than a minute, the study door was violently flung open, and the young man, along with his entourage, strode in. Gu Xiechen’s eyelids narrowed; it appeared his contingent of thirty elite mercenaries had already been subdued.

“Incredible, old man Lawrence, how did you acquire so many unsightly thugs?” The young man lightly flicked his crystal staff, smiling suggestively. “But what use are these low-tier thugs to us? Haven't you grasped our true strength yet?”

Jack had already retreated deep into the corner of the study, the pistol Gu Xiechen had given him tossed far aside.

Lawrence let out a soft sigh, about to speak, when Gu Xiechen stepped in front of him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gu Xiechen coldly sneered, pointing at the youth. “You took down all my men?”

The young man glanced dismissively at Gu Xiechen. “All knocked out, but not a single one dead... Hmm?”

A streak of crimson light, thick as congealed blood, flashed and vanished in the youth’s eyes, but Gu Xiechen saw it clearly. The young man’s lips twitched, and he chuckled softly. “Interesting. A martial artist of the Xiantian realm? May I know your name? A strong individual deserves respect!”

Gu Xiechen nodded, extending his hand toward the young man with a smile. “Xielong! Assistant Commander of the Third Regiment of the Hell Angel Mercenary Group!”

The young man stepped forward and clasped Gu Xiechen’s hand, chuckling lightly. “Xielong? The Hell Angel Mercenary Group has nineteen true Xiantian fighters and ninety-eight pseudo-Xiantian fighters; I’ve never heard of you. Well, if my assumption is correct, you joined the Hell Angel Mercenary Group within the last half-month? Otherwise, our intelligence network should surely have your designation!”

Slippery, icy cold, with a chilling sensation faintly seeping out from between his bones, the young man’s hand reminded Gu Xiechen of a corpse buried for centuries in an ancient tomb.

No, there was something fundamentally wrong with this young man’s hand. As Gu Xiechen pondered the discrepancy, the youth’s grin turned sinister. “My name is Rónguá. Remember it!”

A horrific evil power erupted like a breaching dam. Rónguá’s fingers suddenly tightened around Gu Xiechen’s grip. A dead, chilling evil energy surged through the body, racing along Gu Xiechen’s meridians toward his vital internal organs. The energy was intensely frigid; almost at the instant it erupted, a thin sheet of black ice formed over Gu Xiechen’s palm.

Gu Xiechen finally knew what was wrong: he couldn't feel Rónguá’s pulse! He held Rónguá’s hand, but there was no discernible beat at the wrist.

This handsome, tall, overwhelmingly sinister young man—Gu Xiechen could clearly hear the normal rhythm of his heart beating within his chest—yet, aside from that heartbeat, there was no pulse, nor any sound associated with flowing blood! This fellow wasn't alive; he was a genuine walking Corpse!

A moving, talking, laughing corpse that came to stir up trouble on his doorstep!

A corpse that should only exist in myth!

Rónguá’s hand clamped down like a tiger’s jaw on Gu Xiechen’s right hand. Under the sudden surge of immense power, Gu Xiechen’s palm made a sickening crack. Visible black evil energy billowed from Rónguá’s five fingers, continuously wrapping around Gu Xiechen’s arm.

A smile, ten times more malevolent than Rónguá’s own wicked grin, slowly spread across Gu Xiechen’s face.

Rónguá vaguely sensed that things were turning unfavorable. He exerted more force with his right hand, preparing to crush Gu Xiechen instantly, when a terrifying counterattack suddenly materialized.

Gu Xiechen’s heart rate skyrocketed, sending a formidable torrent of energy rushing down toward his right palm. The vortexes of Qi, slowly spinning in his major acupoints, accelerated tenfold. Countless strands of pure Xiantian Gang Qi merged into this dominant energy. Gu Xiechen’s right arm suddenly swelled by an inch, and tiny slivers of bone-chilling cold air faintly radiated from his fingertips.

With a sharp crackling sound, the thin black ice coating Gu Xiechen’s palm shattered. In Rónguá’s shocked gaze, his right palm turned semi-transparent. What had been soft as cotton suddenly transformed into an unbreakable weapon tempered by a thousand forges—the profoundly cold and peerlessly sharp Xuepo Divine Claw slammed down, seizing Rónguá’s staff. A grating metallic screech, enough to make one’s teeth ache, resonated where their palms met, showering down large flakes of black and white ice crystals.

The temperature in the study plummeted. Lawrence Lee and the others retreated in terror, quickly huddling in the corners with Jack. When had these pampered aristocrats ever witnessed such an unbelievable spectacle? How could two hands locked together possibly spray forth snow?

“Allow me to introduce myself!” Rónguá ground out, gripping Gu Xiechen’s hand tightly. “Rónguá, the chief disciple under the Corpse Emperor, the First Dao Master of the Nine Nethers Dao within the Asian Dao Alliance!”

“Allow me to introduce myself!” Gu Xiechen also clenched his teeth fiercely. Rónguá’s strength was unnaturally immense; Gu Xiechen was struggling to suppress him. “Assistant Commander of the Third Regiment of the Hell Angel Mercenary Group, temporarily holding the rank of Second Lieutenant—Xielong!”

The sleeves on both their right arms tore apart simultaneously, their two heavily muscled arms locking in a fierce entanglement. Gu Xiechen ruthlessly drove his elbow toward Rónguá, and Rónguá countered with his elbow exactly as Gu Xiechen moved. Their right hands remained gripped, their right elbows colliding with undiluted, full force. With a muffled thud, as if two tanks had collided, both Gu Xiechen’s and Rónguá’s bodies lurched violently downward, causing the floorboards of Lawrence Lee’s study to collapse with a roar. They crashed directly into the first-floor hall below.

Directly underneath them was an ancient oak table. A single touch from their feet shattered the inch-thick tabletop into fragments, but they landed solidly on the ground, their right hands now visibly thicker.

Gu Xiechen’s heart rate accelerated further; the energy output from his Dao Embryo grew stronger, and the Xiantian Gang Qi flooding his arm became more violent. The trace of black evil energy in Rónguá’s palm was being forced back inch by inch by Gu Xiechen. Gradually, the Xuepo Divine Claw began to shatter the evil power in Rónguá’s grip.

But Rónguá’s physical strength was terrifyingly potent. While his control over evil energy was far inferior to Gu Xiechen’s, his sheer physical power was at least five times greater. Gu Xiechen could effortlessly lift a two-ton barbell, but this living corpse’s physical strength was easily equivalent to ten tons.

One possessing supreme Gang Qi cultivation, the other possessing outrageously formidable physical strength—they were perfectly matched. Rónguá’s evil power was being fractured into pieces, yet Gu Xiechen’s right palm bore deep claw marks. For the Xuepo Divine Claw, capable of shattering jade and cleaving gold, to be wounded by mere physical force—this was an utterly novel experience for Gu Xiechen.

They remained locked in this hand-to-hand deadlock for a full ten minutes. Gradually, Gu Xiechen’s fingertips began to turn black; Rónguá’s crushing grip had cut off the blood flow, causing stagnation in his fingertips. Gu Xiechen felt agonizing pain and swelling, the discomfort nearing his absolute limit. Meanwhile, Rónguá was horrified to feel a pure, dominating energy violently assaulting the meridians in his right arm. His forearm, tougher than alloy steel wire, had developed dozens of fissures. If the Corpse Power continuously surging from his heart-core hadn't intervened to block the invasion, his right arm would have been completely annihilated long ago.

“It hurts!” Rónguá finally buckled. The Corpse Power contained in his heart-core simply couldn't compare to the energy within Gu Xiechen’s Dao Embryo.

“It hurts me too!” Gu Xiechen gritted his teeth, staring into Rónguá’s flickering, blood-red eyes as he hissed, “How about we both let go? Mutual destruction is too foolish!”

“I agree!” A cunning flash crossed Rónguá’s eyes as he said gravely, “I’ll count to three, and we release simultaneously!”

“Good!” Gu Xiechen narrowed his eyes, his heart beating rapidly.

“One… Two… Three!” Rónguá counted swiftly.

They both let go at the same moment, but Rónguá immediately followed up by violently kicking Gu Xiechen in the lower abdomen. Rónguá’s terrifying physical force unleashed an impact that ripped Gu Xiechen’s clothing with a loud bang. A distinct footprint sank three-tenths of an inch deep into Gu Xiechen’s flesh.

Gu Xiechen, in turn, simultaneously drew two specialized triangular bayonets from his belt the instant he released his grip, stabbing them forward with desperate force.

One bayonet pierced through Rónguá’s lower abdomen, and the other gouged a clean hole through Rónguá’s sternum. Fortunately, Rónguá’s timely kick had deflected Gu Xiechen’s body slightly; otherwise, the second bayonet would have pierced Rónguá’s heart-core—a fatal blow for any corpse!

Clutching his abdomen that felt on the verge of exploding from pain, Gu Xiechen glared at Rónguá and roared, “Shameless!”

Rónguá painfully wrenched the two bayonets from his body, howling with mock distress, “Despicable!”

The two men looked at each other, and suddenly, an unexpected sense of mutual respect blossomed between them.