Chapter 31: If You Want to Fight, Then Fight

The next morning, after seeing Hua Wu off, Chu Tianfeng hurried to the finance department and, as he had hoped, received ten thousand silver dollars. Although he had been forced to pay several thousand yesterday—a cut that had caused him some heartache at the time—he was now relieved that fresh cash had come in, and the balance in his bank account once again climbed into five digits.

These past few days, he had continued his nightly cultivation as usual. However, to avoid trouble from the Salt Society, he had found himself a new spot. The new place was, in fact, very close to the Century Hotel, still by the lakeside, which would make escape to the center of the lake easier should he encounter any enemies.

He knew his current level of cultivation was still very low, essentially at the base of the pyramid. He was well aware of his circumstances: if he could win a fight, he would fight; if not, he would flee. He did not intend to gamble with his life.

In the afternoon, with the sun high in the sky, he planned to return to the lakeside to make the most of his time for cultivation. Yet, as soon as he stepped a short distance away from the film crew’s camp, two men blocked his path.

One was a middle-aged man of average height, with a horse-like face. The most striking thing about him was the gold chain gleaming around his neck, catching the sunlight and drawing every eye.

The other was a young man—bald as an egg, broad-shouldered, round-bellied, and his face thick with fat. He looked every part the thug; it was as if the word “enforcer” were written across his features.

The two men approached Chu Tianfeng at a deliberate pace, seemingly to give him time to prepare himself.

“You must be Chu Tianfeng?” the middle-aged man asked.

“And who are you?” Chu Tianfeng placed his pill furnace on the ground, remaining quietly on guard.

The two stopped five or six meters away, just outside the range of his spiritual sense, making it impossible for him to gauge their cultivation.

“I am Lu Cunyi, leader of the Hangzhou branch of the Grave Raiders Sect.” The man gave a weighty snort.

“Grave Raiders Sect?” Chu Tianfeng frowned in confusion. Shouldn’t these be Salt Society men? He had killed disciples of the Grave Raiders Sect before, but he didn’t believe that the sect was aware of it.

“Hmph. Surely you’ve met my disciples, Tan Jiyuan and Lu Sheng?” Lu Cunyi snorted again.

“I have. Why?” Chu Tianfeng answered, knowing full well the other party must have learned that Tan and Lu had trailed him; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.

“They followed you to Thousand Birds Lake and died there soon after. Are you telling me you didn’t kill them?” Lu Cunyi’s face darkened further.

“With so many Salt Society members following me, whom exactly did I kill?” Chu Tianfeng slowly rose to his feet.

Of course, he had no intention of admitting anything—it would be foolish to do otherwise.

“Hmph. Unless you suffer a little, you’ll never learn to behave.”

With that, Lu Cunyi flexed his arms, his joints cracking audibly.

“Master, there’s no need to trouble yourself with such a small fry. Let me teach him a lesson,” the bald young man stepped forward.

“Very well,” Lu Cunyi agreed; he prided himself on his status and didn’t wish to be accused of bullying the weak.

No matter how the conversation went, a fight was inevitable in the end. Chu Tianfeng felt resigned.

“Is there any way we can avoid this?” he asked earnestly. He truly didn’t want to fight, especially when he didn’t know his opponent’s true strength.

“There is,” Lu Cunyi sneered. “Hand over the treasure, and we’ll be on our way.”

“What treasure?” Suddenly the truth dawned on Chu Tianfeng—the treasure was their real aim, and Tan and Lu’s deaths were merely a pretext.

“Bring your bag here. And that pill furnace at your feet too,” Lu Cunyi pointed.

Chu Tianfeng was frustrated. Whether the Salt Society, the Grave Raiders Sect, the Hengshan Sect, or the Huangshan Sect, they all believed the treasure was in his hands. Only he knew the truth.

In his bag were ten Foundation Pills and a demon core—items of unimaginable value to him right now. He would never relinquish them. As for the pill furnace, he couldn’t care less; they cost two thousand apiece, and he could buy as many as he liked.

Seeing Chu Tianfeng’s silence, the bald youth lost patience. With a shout, his right fist whistled through the air, smashing toward Chu Tianfeng.

Fists again!

Chu Tianfeng had already faced off against Earth’s cultivators several times, and each time, it was fist against fist. Gradually, he’d come to enjoy the feeling of blows landing solidly on flesh.

In a word: exhilarating!

Moreover, judging by the youth’s aura, he was about sixth level in Qi Refinement—by Earth’s standards, late-stage or peak dark force.

Though Chu Tianfeng himself was only at third level Qi Refinement, his combat strength was roughly comparable to someone at the seventh level—slightly higher than his opponent.

He was therefore filled with confidence. In a flash, he struck out with his own right fist.

Bang!

Fist met fist. Chu Tianfeng staggered back half a step, while the bald youth was almost sent flying, tumbling back seven or eight meters before landing hard on his backside.

A numb ache shot through Chu Tianfeng’s arm. He realized he had underestimated his opponent; martial artists’ bodies might not match true body cultivators, but they were certainly tougher than ordinary cultivators of the same rank.

The bald youth, meanwhile, was writhing in pain, grimacing as he shook out his battered right fist.

“Early stage internal force!” Lu Cunyi’s face changed dramatically. “Just who are you?”

He knew that internal force at such a young age—barely twenty—was exceedingly rare, typically reserved for geniuses of the great sects. Such people were not to be trifled with.

“If you want to fight, fight. If not, get lost.” Chu Tianfeng’s patience with the Grave Raiders was exhausted.

“Hmph! What’s so special about early internal force? You’re too arrogant!” Though Lu Cunyi was wary, Chu Tianfeng’s attitude had irked him. Besides, with treasure in sight, how could he give up now?

In a blur, Lu Cunyi lunged at Chu Tianfeng, his right fist thrown forward.

Chu Tianfeng was in no mood to yield. He, too, flickered into motion—this time activating the Wind-riding Technique.

Uncertain of his opponent’s true strength, Chu Tianfeng dared not meet him head-on.

Lu Cunyi’s eyes narrowed at the ghostly speed of his foe. There was no time to change tactics, so he hastily shifted from attack to defense, pulling back his left palm to guard his chest.

Chu Tianfeng dodged Lu Cunyi’s punch and drove his own fist toward Lu Cunyi’s waist.

Lu Cunyi quickly countered with his left palm, blocking Chu Tianfeng’s blow.

Bang!

Both retreated a step.

Chu Tianfeng had used his fist, Lu Cunyi his palm—and the latter had had to change moves in haste, using only about eighty percent of his strength.

Their first real exchange—Chu Tianfeng was slightly at a disadvantage.

Qi Refinement, eighth level!

At close range, Chu Tianfeng’s spiritual sense had revealed Lu Cunyi’s cultivation.

While he himself was only third level.

Chu Tianfeng’s expression grew grave. His opponent’s cultivation far outstripped his own; if he didn’t use magic, a head-on confrontation would end badly, at best a draw.

What’s more, now that the Grave Raiders had appeared, the Salt Society couldn’t be far behind.

Time to flee!

Having made up his mind, Chu Tianfeng wasted no time. With a lunge of his left foot, he feinted an all-out attack on Lu Cunyi—then, after just one step, veered sharply and darted into the undergrowth.

Lu Cunyi, still bracing for an attack, was caught off guard; by the time he reacted, Chu Tianfeng was already four or five meters away.

Roaring with rage, Lu Cunyi gave chase.

But Chu Tianfeng had anticipated this. Though still far from the lakeshore, he was confident—he had the Wind-riding Technique to boost his speed and other spells to hinder pursuit.

From the corner of his eye, he tracked Lu Cunyi’s position and, with a flick of his right hand, hurled a fire arrow behind him.

Caught off guard again, Lu Cunyi saw the flash of fire and tried to dodge left, but the distance was too short. The fire arrow shot through his right arm in a spray of blood.

He grunted, looking down to see a thumb-sized hole in his upper arm, blood spurting forth.

What kind of hidden weapon was this? More terrifying than a bullet!

“Chu Tianfeng—!”

But Chu Tianfeng didn’t even look back. He disappeared into the thicket in a flash.

Lu Cunyi wanted to give chase, but the memory of that ghostly hidden weapon filled him with dread. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to let it go—for now.

At least there was some consolation: in his haste, Chu Tianfeng had left behind the pill furnace. It had to be valuable—a small gain, at least.

With this thought, Lu Cunyi returned to the spot and picked up the furnace with his left hand.

“Master, how’s your injury? Do you need treatment?” the bald youth asked.

Lu Cunyi nodded. The young man produced medicine from his bag, applied it to Lu Cunyi’s wound, then wrapped it deftly with gauze.

“Master, this furnace must be worth a fortune,” the youth remarked.

Lu Cunyi examined it closely. “No idea what era it’s from. We’ll have to get an expert to appraise it when we get back.”

Suddenly, there was the sound of light footsteps.

“Well, Master Lu, what fine taste you have—admiring antiques in the wild?” Two men emerged from the thicket, one speaking in a sinister tone.

The speaker was elderly, with gray at his temples and three long wisps of beard on his chin.

The other was middle-aged, with a square face, slanted brows, and an expression so sullen he looked like he’d been short-changed by the whole world.

Lu Cunyi recognized the two and nearly shook with fear. What rotten luck—he’d just managed to pick up some discarded treasure and here were Duan Rui and Dong Qingfei from the Huangshan Sect.

“Elder Duan! Brother Dong!” Lu Cunyi forced a smile.

“Master Lu, what is that you have in your hand?” asked the older man, Duan Rui.

Lu Cunyi had no choice but to answer honestly, “It’s a pill furnace. I just took it from a petty thief I was pursuing.”

“Let me have a look,” Duan Rui’s eyes glinted coldly.

Lu Cunyi hesitated. He knew that once the furnace was in Duan Rui’s hands, it would never return. Still, both men were far his superiors—a single blow from either could end him. However unwilling, he dared not resist.

“Why? Are you reluctant?” Dong Qingfei interjected.

“Of course not. I’m more than willing,” Lu Cunyi replied, though inwardly he was cursing.

He stepped forward, presenting the pill furnace to the two men.

At that moment, two more figures darted from the edge of the thicket, a sharp voice calling out:

“Hold it!”