Chapter Twenty-One: An Appetizer for the Liu Family

The Ten Dragons Fist was a formidable art, for it was no mere worldly technique, but originated from the Buddhist Dragon Realm—one of the ten most powerful realms among all three thousand worlds of the Immortal Domain. Dragons, after all, were the sovereigns of beasts! Legend had it that dragons were born at the end of the Primordial Era, during the age when the god race ruled over the countless heavens. To serve as mounts for the gods was no disgrace for the dragons; on the contrary, it was an honor. Later, when the god race vanished and the Ancient Era began—ushering in the rise of myriad races and a struggle for supremacy across all realms—the dragons swiftly distinguished themselves, dominating their territories and becoming an unrivaled force.

The Ten Dragons Fist was a secret martial art handed down within the dragon clan, designed for young dragons to train. It emphasized overwhelming force and power to crush all opposition, a relentless and savage fist technique. Even among the vast array of secret arts and magical abilities of the dragon race, it ranked in the upper echelons. Back in the Immortal Realm, Jiang An had even slain two true Dragon Kings, thereby gaining the method to cultivate this very martial art. With his body, tempered a hundredfold beyond that of a true dragon, it was well suited for practice. The Ten Dragons Fist comprised ten forms, each more profound and terrifying than the last. However, given Jiang An’s current cultivation, he was only capable of utilizing the first form.

Yet, judging from his faintly heaving chest, even this first form was an ordeal. Beneath his clothes, he was drenched in sweat. This was because, moments before, he had to rouse his vital energy and blood, sealing all essence and spirit within by closing every pore, then unleashing it all in a single, explosive punch. Though the power was astonishing, the strain on the body was immense. After the strike, his pores reopened and sweat poured forth uncontrollably.

Of course, none of this was visible to others. The single move, Dragon’s Break, had utterly shaken their spirits. At that moment, Jiang An suddenly lifted his gaze, and on the second floor, Qi Zhenghui, upon meeting those eyes, instinctively took several steps back. Usually calm and composed, he now trembled uncontrollably—he was afraid. No, it was terror. With Qi Zhenghao, the strongest of the Qi family, now his life or death uncertain, who could resist this man’s slaughter? The family’s destruction might well come this very night!

A sharp sound whistled through the air—a small object flew over and struck Qi Zhenghui lightly in the chest before falling. He reached out and caught it reflexively, looking down to see an exquisite little white porcelain vial.

“Don’t worry. I pulled my punch at the last moment. Your second brother is merely injured and unconscious. As for why I’m here, you’ll find out tomorrow. Heh, until we meet again!”

A clear, bright voice wafted past his ears. Qi Zhenghui’s heart clenched. When his gaze swept the lawn below, the man who had seemed both god and devil before the massive pit had already vanished; only the rising northern wind and the swaying grass and trees remained.

The terrifying crater and the devastated buildings all around bore silent witness to the reality of what had just transpired. Qi Zhenghui’s expression shifted rapidly between pallor and livid green. After a long while, he finally regained some of the authority of a family head. With a cold face, he issued orders: “Tiancheng, carry your second uncle away for treatment—nothing must go wrong!”

“Yes, Father!” A capable middle-aged man responded from among the crowd.

“Tiansong, spread my orders: no one is to reveal a word of what happened tonight! How you explain it to outsiders is your business, but remember—this concerns our family’s honor. Any violation will be punished twice over by the family law!”

“Yes, Father!” Another middle-aged man replied.

Qi Zhenghui nodded, furrowing his brow. He turned to the old steward who had come to stand behind him. “Awei, find a way to contact Tiancōng, and have him return to the family at once!”

“Master, are you sure? Before Third Young Master left home to travel, he said he would be visiting certain elders to stabilize his realm, and was not to be disturbed unless it was truly urgent.”

“I know. But when someone has already forced their way into our house, does that not count as urgent? With Zhenghao temporarily out of commission, not having a master in residence leaves me uneasy. Besides, there’s another reason—if Tiancōng can convince one of those familiar elders to visit, all the better...”

“I understand! I’ll make arrangements at once, and see to the rebuilding of our defenses!”

“Good. I trust your judgment. One more thing: gather all rumors and news—I want to know which master visited us tonight... No, on second thought, perhaps not. This person is unfathomable, and did not kill a single member of our family. If we probe rashly, we may provoke his retaliation. Since he said to wait until tomorrow, we will do just that.”

“Yes!”

The old steward went off to carry out his tasks. Qi Zhenghui pressed the porcelain vial in his hand, then suddenly looked up at the night sky—so deep and profound. A barely audible sigh escaped him: “With dragon and tiger now awakened, the world will fall into chaos!”

The next day.

The weather was bitterly cold. Passersby on the street wrapped themselves tightly in warm clothing, starting their daily routines as usual. Amid the crowd, an inconspicuous middle-aged man casually turned up his collar, partially shielding his sallow face. Before long, he arrived at his destination, raising his eyes to see the bold characters “Fenghe Group” displayed atop a multi-story building.

Blending in with the flow of people, the man entered the building, which bustled with suited office workers. Paying them no mind, he took the elevator to the thirteenth floor—the highest—and, after orienting himself, quickly approached a doorway. Beyond this door lay access to the rooftop. At that moment, a patrolling security guard spotted him and called out, “Sir, you can’t go in there!”

The man did not stop. He tried the handle—locked. The guard came over warily, pulling out a stun baton. “Sir, the upper floors are private. You can’t go there without a keycard. Please show your credentials!”

The man turned, reaching into his coat. The guard instinctively stepped back, but before he could shout a warning, the man produced a keycard—an authentic one.

The guard took it, relieved but puzzled by the name on it: Wang Ying? Wasn’t that someone who worked for the Young Master? But this wasn’t the same person… As he tried to match the man’s face to the keycard, the man struck, swift and ruthless as a viper, his finger stabbing the guard’s throat. The guard’s neck shrank, face swelling as he began to collapse. The man grabbed him, gave a sharp twist—crack!—and broke his neck.

Having killed with no change of expression, the man searched the guard’s body for a keyring, unlocked the door, and went inside. At that very moment, the sound of hurried footsteps and shouts erupted behind him. Security on this floor was tight and cameras were everywhere; the man’s actions had been seen in the control room. Led by their captain, more than a dozen guards came running, glancing down at their fallen comrade, faces seething with rage. They broke down the door and burst onto the rooftop, seeing the murderer striding step by step toward the edge.

“Stop!” The captain shouted. The man, a dozen meters away, shuddered as if shocked by a jolt—his body trembling uncontrollably. In those numb eyes, a flicker of clarity returned.

“Where am I? How did I get here? Wasn’t I supposed to kidnap someone named Jiang An?” The man’s face twisted as memories returned: he was the assassin who had infiltrated Jiang An’s house the previous night—Ghostface!

“Damn! Murderer, get back here!” the captain cursed, then turned to his men. “Brothers, this bastard might be insane—he could try to jump! If he does, we’re all finished. Master Liu will have our hides! We go together—don’t let him get away!”

“Charge!” The group surged forward. Having worked for the Liu family, they knew all too well its ruthless methods. Yet none were aware that the man was now locked in a fierce battle of consciousness, as if two souls were struggling for control of his body.

In truth, with the man’s brutal nature and the murderous aura of a dozen lives on his hands, ordinary hypnosis would never have subdued him. Unfortunately, he had been struck by a spell. In a single exchange, his primary consciousness collapsed. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, the irises dilated and black as pitch—horrifying to behold.

He himself was terrified beyond measure. In his spiritual world, darkness as thick as ink surrounded him, chilling winds slicing at his face like knives. Most dreadful of all was the blood-curdling wail that seemed to come from behind, followed by thunderous footsteps that made the very ground tremble—the footsteps of man-eating demons. Drenched in sweat, he searched in vain for escape or direction.

Then, a miracle: ahead of him, a lamp suddenly appeared. Its light was dim, yet in that endless night, it was a beacon of warmth and hope. If only he could reach it, he would find life and joy. Elated, he rushed toward the lamp, exerting every ounce of strength. The closer he got, the safer he felt. The lamp must be the path to paradise, he thought, for his body grew lighter and lighter, until at last he soared…

No!

To the horror of the security guards behind him, the man suddenly pulled a rolled sheet of white paper from his coat, then, with a sudden burst of speed, sprinted headlong for the rooftop edge, leaping with desperate, eager abandon—and disappeared from sight.

He had jumped.

Bang!

A dark shadow plummeted straight down, landing squarely on a luxury car in the parking lot below—one of Liu Chengfeng’s usual vehicles. It was as if he had aimed for it deliberately. With a tremendous crash, the car’s roof caved in and the alarm blared.

“Someone jumped!” a woman screamed. People rushed over, only to recoil in shock, covering their eyes at the gruesome sight: a man lay twisted and broken atop the car, blood pouring from every orifice, staining everything red. His life was gone, yet eerily, there seemed to be a faint smile on his face.

Ghostface had truly become a ghost.

At that moment, a shadow fluttered down—a sheet of white paper drifted gently to settle atop the man’s face, immediately soaking up the vivid red blood, its starkness drawing all eyes. Yet the bold black characters on it were even more striking: “The Liu family is without conscience.”

At that very moment, in the distant Mingde Garden, Jiang An, who had been meditating, sensed the extinguishing of the Night Lantern Spell. He slowly opened his eyes, murmuring, “A savage murderer leaps to his death on your turf—Liu family, what will you do? But this is just the appetizer…”

(To be continued)