Feng Changkong, a Primordial Qi Realm expert who had made his name in Qingfeng City for ten years, was the legendary master of Heavenly Profound Pavilion.
Yet a young man with no reputation had punched straight through his shoulder with a single blow, pinning him to the wall like a dead dog.
This script was all wrong.
Where was the earth-shattering clash between masters they had been promised?
How had it turned into a one-sided crushing?
The young man named Shen Che withdrew his fist, not even a trace of blood staining his knuckles.
It was as though he had merely done something utterly insignificant.
Leaning against the wall, Feng Changkong coughed up mouthful after mouthful of blood, bits of organs mixed into the froth.
He could feel the bloody hole through his left shoulder, feel the meridians within his body shattered into a complete mess by that punch.
An utterly absurd feeling swept through his mind.
Sword Intent.
The minor Sword Intent he had been so proud of, which he had immersed himself in for forty years.
Before that golden fist, it had been like a sandcastle built by a three-year-old, kicked apart with one foot.
That had not been a clash of techniques at all.
It was absolute power—terrifying, unreasonable brute force exceeding one hundred thousand jin—smashing all his pride and trump cards into pulp.
Was that even strength a human could possess?
Shen Che started walking, one step at a time, toward Feng Changkong.
Every step seemed to stamp down on everyone's heart.
He stopped before Feng Changkong and reached out, lifting the Primordial Qi Realm expert from the ground like a chick.
"Can you give me an account now?"
Held up by his collar, Feng Changkong's feet dangled off the ground, his aura feeble to the extreme.
"An account... an account for what...?"
"Where are the people who disappeared from Inkstone Town?"
Shen Che's voice was calm, without the slightest fluctuation.
"I don't know... I truly don't know..." Feng Changkong still stubbornly refused to talk.
"That's fine."
Shen Che nodded.
"In the Imperial Prison of the Demon Suppression Division, there are quite a few demons who went mad after suffering cultivation deviation while practicing their techniques."
"They love fresh flesh and blood, especially martial artists like you whose vitality is still fairly robust."
"I'll break all four of your limbs and throw you into their cell."
"Believe me, before they gnaw you down to nothing but a head, you'll have plenty of time to think over what you ought to confess."
His icy words carried not a shred of human emotion.
The surrounding guests felt their scalps go numb. One by one, they silently backed away, wishing they had never come here.
Feng Changkong's body trembled.
He did not doubt for a moment that Shen Che meant every word.
Those lunatics from the Demon Suppression Division were absolutely capable of such things.
He was afraid.
But begging for mercy would be useless.
Thoughts spun rapidly through his mind as a venomous plan took shape in his heart.
"I'll talk... I'll talk!"
Feng Changkong panted harshly, forcing a smile even uglier than crying onto his face.
"The people... they're all in one place. I'll take you there."
"They're safe... I guarantee it."
He decided to lure this Baleful Intent into the underground chamber beneath the rear courtyard.
There was someone there whom even he had to treat with utmost reverence.
Borrow a knife to kill someone.
No, he would use demons' hands to eliminate this mortal threat.
Shen Che released him.
Feng Changkong slid limply to the ground. Clutching his endlessly bleeding shoulder, he struggled to his feet.
"Lord Shen, please follow me."
He took the initiative to lead the way, lowering himself as much as possible.
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Shen Che followed behind him, his face expressionless.
Of course, he had noticed the strange change in Feng Changkong's attitude. The old bastard was clearly harboring malicious intentions.
But it did not matter.
Before absolute strength, every scheme and plot was nothing more than earthen chickens and pottery dogs.
The remaining guards and attendants of Heavenly Profound Pavilion watched the two head toward the rear courtyard, one in front and one behind. They exchanged glances, but none dared step forward to stop them.
"Quick! Go report this to the City Lord's Mansion!"
A man who looked like a steward lowered his voice and instructed a sharp-witted attendant beside him.
"Say that a madman has committed violence at Heavenly Profound Pavilion and injured the pavilion master! Ask the City Lord to come at once and uphold justice!"
He knew that the lord of Qingfeng City and his pavilion master were close friends.
This was their only hope now.
After passing through several corridors, the two arrived at a study in the rear courtyard of Heavenly Profound Pavilion.
Feng Changkong walked to an enormous bookshelf, felt around it for a moment, then pressed hard.
"Creak—"
A dull sound of turning mechanisms rang out.
The entire bookshelf slid to one side, revealing a pitch-black opening behind it.
A flight of stone steps leading downward disappeared into endless darkness.
A foul stench mixed with blood and rot drifted out from the opening.
Shen Che frowned.
He knew that smell all too well.
It was the aura of demons, and it was not weak.
It seemed the missing people were in even worse circumstances than he had imagined.
"Lord Shen, please."
Feng Changkong stepped aside and made an inviting gesture. A flash of viciousness crossed his lowered face.
Shen Che did not hesitate and stepped inside.
The spiraling stone stairs extended endlessly downward.
After descending for roughly several dozen meters, the space before them suddenly opened up.
This was a vast underground hall. Dim yellow candle flames burned on the stone pillars around it, casting the entire space into shifting shadows.
"Feng Changkong, how dare you bring an outsider here?"
A hoarse, grating voice came from the depths of the hall.
Shen Che followed the voice with his gaze.
Three figures stood in the center of the hall.
At their head was an old man in black robes, hunched over with a face covered in wrinkles, yet his eyes gleamed with an inhuman light.
Behind him stood two burly men in black robes, both emanating fierce auras.
The speaker was one of them, a square-faced brute named Wang Bing.
He stared at Shen Che, making no effort to conceal his displeasure and killing intent.
"Lord Wang Bing, please listen to my explanation!"
The moment Feng Changkong saw the three of them, his entire presence diminished. He bent forward tremblingly.
"This man is from the Demon Suppression Division. His strength is unfathomable. I... I was no match for him, so I could only lure him here and ask you gentlemen to deal with him."
He quickly explained what had happened.
"The Demon Suppression Division?"
Wang Bing and the other burly man, Wang Yan, were both stunned.
Then, a cruel bloodthirsty grin appeared on Wang Bing's face.
"So what if he's from the Demon Suppression Division? Perfect. I haven't tasted a Demon Queller Envoy's flesh in a long time. I hear it's a great tonic!"
"Enough, Wang Bing."
The black-robed elder, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
"Feng Changkong did nothing wrong. He is merely borrowing our hands to solve his own trouble. There is no need for us to be angry."
The old man soothed his two subordinates before turning his murky gaze toward Shen Che.
"A petty cleverness that knows how to borrow strength and strike back. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong target."
Listening to their conversation, Shen Che had already reached a conclusion.
These three were not human.
Though they had tried their utmost to conceal the demon aura on their bodies, before a professional "butcher" like him, they were no different from fireflies in the night.
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