Danzhou was only a remote little town, nowhere near as prosperous as the Capital, but its scenery and local customs had a simple charm all their own.
As night deepened, Zhou Cheng changed into the night gear he had bought during the day and slipped into the darkness.
The Fan Residence.
After paying his respects to Old Madam Fan, Fan Xian returned to his room. He had barely shut the door when a dark figure emerged from behind the screen.
He was not startled, merely resigned.
"Uncle Wu Zhu, you don't have to guard me every moment of the day. I'm a seventh-rank expert now, after all, a master of both poison and martial arts. How could ordinary people hurt me?"
Wrapped in a black robe, his eyes covered with black cloth, Wu Zhu calmly shook his head.
"No."
Knowing how stubborn he was, Fan Xian stopped trying to persuade him and sighed instead.
"Uncle, who exactly is so determined to kill me? There have been three or four assassination attempts in the past six months. Poison, ambushes, they've tried everything... just who did I offend?"
"I don't know."
Wu Zhu stood with his arms folded, still hoarding his words like gold.
Fan Xian shot him an exasperated glare, sat down on a stool, and stared blankly at the flickering candle flame.
"First the assassins were sixth rank, then seventh rank. Next time, they'll probably be eighth rank. With you here, Uncle, I'm not afraid for myself. I'm just afraid Old Madam and the others in the residence will get dragged into this..."
Worry gathered between his brows.
He and Wu Zhu had interrogated every assassin they had captured, but all of them were sworn to die for their mission. So far, they had uncovered not a single clue.
After more than half a year spent on tenterhooks, he still did not even know who his enemy was. It had left him utterly drained.
Wu Zhu remained silent.
He did not care whether the other people in the residence lived or died. Only Fan Xian's safety mattered to him.
Tapping his fingers on the table, Fan Xian quietly worked through his thoughts.
"I've always kept a low profile. No one in Danzhou would come after me, and they couldn't hire a seventh-rank expert anyway. These assassins aren't from Danzhou. They must have come from the Capital, but the Capital..."
In his mind, the Capital lay shrouded in layer upon layer of mist, a place of mysteries.
The father he had acquired without ever meeting was there, his younger sister was there, and his enemies might be there too.
He wanted to go to the Capital, but after all these years, the Red-Armored Knights who were supposedly meant to fetch him had yet to appear.
As Fan Xian muttered to himself, Wu Zhu suddenly tilted his head slightly, his ear twitching.
"Hide," he said coldly.
Fan Xian froze, then understood. Someone was here!
"Speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao arrives... don't tell me it really is an eighth-rank expert this time?"
There was no fear in Fan Xian's eyes.
He had already reached the peak of the seventh rank, only a hair's breadth away from the eighth.
If Overlord True Energy had not been so utterly hard and yang in nature, so wildly violent that he needed medical treatments and medicine to slowly bring his body into balance, he could have attempted a breakthrough long ago.
"I have no true qi, so I don't know their rank. But... this time is different!" Wu Zhu added, unusually talkative.
"Different?" While Fan Xian was still puzzling over that, the door was gently pushed open from outside.
A figure slowly stepped in, clad entirely in night gear, his face hidden behind a ghost mask and even his hands covered by black gloves.
Wu Zhu said nothing. At some point, an iron spike had appeared in his hand.
The Ghost-Faced Man entered the room, glanced at Fan Xian, then turned his gaze to Wu Zhu.
The visitor was, of course, Zhou Cheng.
After questioning a few servants at the Fan Residence, he had found out where Fan Xian lived and come straight over. He had not expected Wu Zhu to be in the room.
According to the original plot, Wu Zhu should have been guarding him in secret from the general store across the street.
His presence here suggested that the plot had shifted slightly since Zhou Cheng sold information about Fan Xian to Li Yunrui.
Far from looking frightened, Fan Xian wore an expression of weary disgust.
"Are you here to kill me too? Could you tell me who I offended to make all of you come knocking, one after another?"
[Negative emotions from Fan Xian +666!]
Zhou Cheng clicked his tongue inwardly.
Villains generally died from talking too much, but for the sake of the emotion points, he still answered in a hoarse voice.
"You haven't offended anyone. You're simply an eyesore to certain people."
Rather than being an eyesore, it would have been more accurate to say that hatred for the house extended even to the crow perched upon it.
But the world of Joy of Life had no story behind the saying about loving a house and even its crow, so Zhou Cheng changed his wording before it left his mouth.
"Huh? You can actually talk?"
Fan Xian had only been complaining casually. He had not expected an answer, which made this man entirely different from the earlier death-sworn assassins.
The corner of Zhou Cheng's mouth twitched beneath his mask, and he changed the subject.
"I haven't come to kill you. Hand over the Overlord True Energy manual, and I'll leave."
The moment he heard the words "Overlord True Energy," Fan Xian's gaze changed.
Overlord True Energy was a legacy his mother, Ye Qingmei, had left him.
Only he and Wu Zhu knew about it in all the world.
He had never told anyone, and Wu Zhu would never have revealed the secret. Then... where had this damned Ghost-Faced Man learned of it?
Could it... have something to do with his mother?
Fan Xian could no longer remain calm.
"Who exactly are you? How do you know about Overlord True Energy?"
"You don't need to know."
Zhou Cheng offered no further explanation. He disliked lying, but he could hardly say he knew from reading the novel and watching the television series.
"Uncle Wu Zhu, take him down! He must know something!"
Fan Xian was decisive. Once he realized he would get no answers, he immediately chose to act.
Wu Zhu had described this man as different, so he dared not be careless in the slightest.
That was why he planned to start by fighting dirty!
He suddenly swept a cloud of purple smoke from his sleeve and lunged forward.
Wu Zhu warned him again. "Careful! Stay back!"
"Poison?"
Zhou Cheng raised his eyelids. Without dodging, he abruptly unleashed his true qi-
The air around him shuddered violently. Before the poisonous smoke could reach him, the surging air scattered it.
Charging toward him from farther away, Fan Xian barely had time to curse inwardly before he was hurled backward through the air, crashing through a cluster of tables and chairs.
A Grandmaster's true qi domain enveloped the entire room. In an instant, the space inside seemed to congeal.
Sprawled on the floor, Fan Xian felt as though a mountain were pressing down on him. Even breathing became a choking struggle.
"Wh-what kind of technique is this?!"
He braced himself on his arms and strained to widen his eyes, horror rising inside him.
Compared to the earlier assassins, this was more than "different." It was an entirely different world!
Only Wu Zhu remained unaffected by the domain.
The instant Zhou Cheng's true qi swept outward, he moved!
The dark iron spike tore through the air with a piercing explosive crack.
Zhou Cheng dared not take him lightly. Reaching behind his back, he drew out an iron staff more than three feet long.
Fan Xian, struggling to get up, was dumbstruck again.
Could someone really pull something that long straight out from behind his back?
Clang!
The iron spike struck the iron staff, sparks spraying everywhere as the ringing clash of metal fell like an unbroken downpour.
The two fought faster and faster. Fan Xian could see only overlapping afterimages and streaming sparks, and hear only a continuous barrage of air-splitting booms. He could not make out their moves at all.
The turbulent air shook the room relentlessly. Beams and pillars creaked, and the roof tiles rattled overhead.
"Come on, let's take this elsewhere!"
Zhou Cheng gave a low shout, broke away, and swiftly retreated.
Even this brief exchange with Wu Zhu had filled him with tremendous exhilaration.
A Grandmaster fighting at full strength affected far too wide an area. These cramped quarters favored Wu Zhu, and Zhou Cheng was already at a disadvantage. A prolonged battle here would not serve him well.
Wu Zhu glanced at Fan Xian, left him with a single instruction-"Stay here"-then sprang after Zhou Cheng.
The two figures swept out of the courtyard one after the other, crossed rooftops and walls, and headed straight toward the eastern side of town.
The weight on Fan Xian suddenly lifted. He climbed to his feet, panting, and gave a bitter smile at the wreckage of his room.
After considering Wu Zhu's instruction, he gritted his teeth and decided to follow anyway.
He cared far too much about the Ghost-Faced Man's origins, and he was worried about Wu Zhu. Of course, he also did not want to miss this rare clash between supreme fighters.
East of town, in a bamboo grove.
Beneath the moon, emerald shadows were stained with ink, and leaves whispered as the wind passed.
The two figures moved as they fought. Bamboo snapped and stone split wherever they went, their battle plowing a path through the grove.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their fists and palms collided as densely as rolling thunder. The iron weapons in their hands had long since twisted out of shape in the fierce fighting, reduced to scrap.
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