The Tingfeng Pavilion's main hall fell utterly silent.
Everyone's eyes focused on the Silver Armored Guard who was slowly lowering his foot.
He stood there, motionless and silent, radiating a pressure that made everyone's heart tremble.
The smile froze on Fang Cheng's face. He stared at the servant slumped in the corner, foaming at the mouth, with a dent in his chest, and felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to his skull.
Every one of his servants was a skilled fighter. They usually strutted around the capital as if they owned the place. When had they ever suffered a loss like this?
There was only one opponent, and with a single kick, he had crippled Fang Cheng's strongest man?
"You... You dare lay hands on my men?"
Fang Cheng shouted, trying to sound fierce, but his voice carried a tremor even he hadn't noticed.
Zhu Zhanjun looked at him as if he were an idiot.
"What else was I supposed to do? Let them tear my building apart?"
He brushed at the nonexistent dust on his hands and drawled, "Young Master Fang, I gave you a chance just now."
"You were the one who didn't cherish it."
"Get them! All of you, get them! Kill them!"
Thoroughly enraged by the contempt in Zhu Zhanjun's gaze, Fang Cheng pointed at the two guards behind him and roared, "If anyone dies, I'll take responsibility! Get them!"
The dozen or so servants left exchanged glances. They were frightened, but they didn't dare disobey their young master's orders.
They let out a roar to bolster their courage, then charged at the two guards from all directions, swinging their clubs.
"Fools courting death."
Zhu Zhanjun shook his head lightly, not even bothering to look again.
The two Great Snow Dragon Rider Guards behind him moved.
Their movements weren't fast; if anything, they were steady.
Facing the clubs crashing toward them from every direction, they neither dodged nor retreated. They simply raised their arms.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The wooden sticks, heavy enough to smash a skull, struck their silver-white armor with a series of dull thumps, then snapped in two!
Neither guard even swayed.
"What?!"
The servants' eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
What kind of armor was this? The clubs couldn't even break it?
Before they could recover from their shock, the two guards struck back.
No flashy moves. No complicated techniques.
Just the simplest, most direct punches and kicks.
One guard threw a punch, landing squarely on a servant's face.
Crack!
With a bone-splitting snap that made the teeth ache, the servant's nose caved in. He flew backward, his face covered in blood.
The other guard swept out with a kick, striking three servants precisely in the knees.
"Aah!!"
Three piercing screams rang out at once. Their lower legs bent outward at an unnatural ninety-degree angle, and they clutched their legs, rolling across the ground and wailing.
The whole thing happened with terrifying speed—and was just as brutal.
The two Great Snow Dragon Rider Guards struck with precision, every movement without a hint of waste.
Each blow brought down a servant.
Some had their hands broken, others their feet.
Not a single move was wasted, and not one opponent could withstand a single hit.
In less than ten breaths,
the dozen or so servants who had been charging so fiercely moments before were all sprawled on the ground.
The hall filled with their pained groans and wails, while a thick smell of blood spread through the air.
The two guards still stood quietly behind Zhu Zhanjun.
Under the lamplight, their silver-white armor reflected a cold, murderous gleam.
The guests in the hall were all dumbstruck.
They had never seen such a ferocious, clean-cut fight in their lives.
What kind of guards were these? They were grim reapers!
Fang Cheng was completely stunned.
His legs weakened, his face turned deathly pale, and his lips trembled as he struggled to get a word out.
The servants he'd been so proud of, the reason he could throw his weight around the capital—they were no match for his opponent.
Fear—an unprecedented fear—seized his heart in an instant.
Only then did he realize that he'd apparently picked a fight with someone far beyond his reach.
"Now, can we have a proper talk about compensation, Young Master Fang?"
Zhu Zhanjun's voice drifted lazily into his ear.
"I... I'll pay! I'll pay!"
Fang Cheng nodded frantically.
"Whatever you want, I'll pay!"
"Wouldn't things have gone more smoothly if you'd cooperated from the start?"
Zhu Zhanjun smiled.
He walked up to Fang Cheng and held out a hand.
"Nothing much. Five million taels."
"F-five million taels?!"
Fang Cheng's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and his voice went up an octave.
Five million taels of silver!
Even if he sold his father's Minister of War residence, they still couldn't scrape together that much money!
This wasn't extortion anymore. It was a death sentence!
"Y-you might as well just rob me!"
Fang Cheng blurted out without thinking.
"That's exactly what I'm doing."
Zhu Zhanjun replied as if it were only natural.
"I'm just doing it in a more civilized way."
The smile slowly faded from his face, replaced by a glacial expression.
"Young Master Fang, my patience is limited."
"My men were beaten by you."
"You nearly tore my building apart."
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