Chapter 79: A Rematch with Chen Yue

Chen Yue was deeply frustrated—profoundly so. Tonight, he was on duty, stationed on the twenty-seventh floor of the building.

He had heard rumors of a lone assailant launching a nighttime attack on headquarters, and immediately understood that the intruder was not from the Huangshan or Hengshan sects, but rather a comrade of Chu Tianfeng. He had crossed paths with this adversary before and knew well how troublesome he could be. Alone, there was no way Chen Yue could take him down.

Without delay, he called Sima Lin for reinforcements. Fortunately, Sima Lin had just completed his training and emerged from seclusion days prior. Yet the enemy acted swiftly: Chen Yue had barely finished briefing Sima Lin when the building’s power was sabotaged. Darkness engulfed everything, and the elevators ground to a halt.

Time was of the essence. As if fighting a fire, Chen Yue called the patrol inspectors, ordering them to assemble in the lobby, while he grabbed his trusty nine-section whip and dashed for the stairwell.

Leading a squad of inspectors, Chen Yue charged into the lobby, only to be stunned by the scene before him. Wherever the flashlight’s beam fell, corpses littered the floor—the bodies of Salt Society security guards. The stairwells, the first-floor corridors, the main hall—even the surveillance room was strewn with bodies.

A surge of fury consumed Chen Yue. He bellowed, “If you’ve got guts, come out and face me one-on-one! What sort of man hides in the shadows?”

The moment Chen Yue entered the stairwell, Chu Tianfeng knew. At that time, Chu Tianfeng was still dealing with a few minor guards and had no time for Chen Yue. Besides, Chen Yue was accompanied by four inspectors at the peak of their internal strength, and Chu Tianfeng dared not be careless. He knew well from their last encounter—when he himself was only at the fourth level of Qi Refinement and Chen Yue had failed to subdue him—that now, having broken through to the fifth level, he had every confidence he could bring Chen Yue down, even with several helpers at his side. Still, he had no intention of fighting a direct, honorable duel. He understood his own strengths: Ambush—the art of surprise—was the true path.

He crept silently behind the group. Chen Yue and his four companions advanced in a ring formation, covering one another.

The sight of the corpses in the surveillance room ignited Chen Yue’s fury anew. Swearing under his breath, he ordered two inspectors inside to move the bodies and assess the situation.

Now was the moment.

Only three remained in the corridor: Chen Yue in front, two inspectors behind. Chu Tianfeng darted out—instantly, a volley of ice spikes rained down like a swarm of locusts upon the two inspectors. They were worthy of their reputations, reacting to the whistling wind by leaping aside, but Chu Tianfeng’s attack covered a wide area and moved swiftly. Though they dodged much, some spikes still struck them.

Their screams rang out as they collapsed against the corridor wall. Chu Tianfeng’s hands danced again, unleashing another storm of ice.

Hearing his men’s cries, Chen Yue’s face changed. The enemy had arrived—drawn forth by his taunts. Yet what an entrance: accompanied by screams of agony! Unbearable!

He spun around, flashlight sweeping—only to see a deadly rain of ice. Instinctively, Chen Yue leapt aside, roaring, “Get out here, now!”

“Yes!” came the inspectors’ shouted reply from inside.

In truth, Chu Tianfeng’s second volley wasn’t aimed at Chen Yue but at the two wounded inspectors. He knew Chen Yue’s capabilities; such ice storms posed little threat to him.

Two short, agonized screams sounded—the inspectors, already injured, simply couldn’t evade a second assault. Spikes riddled their bodies, ending their cries and their lives.

“It's you again!” Chen Yue recognized the deadly projectiles all too well. Nothing stokes hatred like meeting one’s nemesis. His eyes blazed red, dark as ripe plums.

“Prepare to die!” he roared, snapping his wrist—his nine-section whip lashed out like a viper at Chu Tianfeng.

Chu Tianfeng vaulted aside; the whip struck the wall with a metallic clang, throwing sparks. He’d seen this weapon before, even played with it while filming once. It could be limp as rope or stiff as a spear.

Still empty-handed, Chu Tianfeng braced himself—not out of arrogance, but because no weapon here suited him; ordinary blades held no appeal.

Chen Yue’s steel whip struck again, relentless as a parasite. Chu Tianfeng frowned—he hadn’t expected such speed. A moment’s carelessness, and the initiative would slip away. He leapt back, putting distance between himself and the deadly whip.

“Hmph!” Chen Yue sneered, preparing to attack again.

But Chu Tianfeng wasn’t about to let him. With a swift flick, he sent another volley of ice spikes.

Chen Yue, unflustered, spun his whip into a blur, forming a protective screen around himself. The spikes clattered off the steel with a pleasant chime, falling harmlessly to the floor.

“Again!” Chu Tianfeng’s hands moved in a wild dance, another icy storm flying toward Chen Yue.

To hell with you! Chen Yue cursed inwardly. Though he batted away the ice, the force behind them numbed his right arm. He realized he couldn’t keep blocking like this; if he caught a second volley, a third, fourth, and who knows how many more would surely follow.

He leapt back, withdrawing swiftly. He, at least, was safe—but he forgot he wasn’t alone. His remaining two subordinates, just emerging from the surveillance room, ran straight into Chu Tianfeng’s fierce barrage. Unlike Chen Yue, they lacked his skill; they dodged some, but many spikes struck home.

Their screams echoed as they fell. Chu Tianfeng’s senses had already locked onto these new targets; this second volley was meant for them. Wounded, they had no hope. Another volley of ice sped toward their prone bodies. They tried to dodge, but their battered forms betrayed them.

Short, sharp cries—and then silence returned.

Chen Yue still gripped his whip and flashlight, but his anger had vanished, replaced by a heavy dread. He understood now: the enemy had broken through to a new level. Last time, he’d fought Chu Tianfeng barehanded and held his own. Now, barely a month later, even armed, he couldn’t gain the upper hand.

No longer did he hope to hold the enemy—he only wished Sima Lin and the others would arrive soon, or he feared he’d end up cold and lifeless like his four dead men.

Salt Society had once boasted ten inspectors, grandly titled Chief Inspectors, but a month ago, Fu Kaishan had died tragically in Hangzhou, with Dai Xing and Chang Gengsheng vanishing in Huangshan not long after. Only seven remained. After tonight, the Inspectorate would be decimated, with just three surviving.

Strangely, Chen Yue felt a twinge of envy for those three, and for Yu Guansheng—because they’d been on duty the previous night, and so escaped tonight’s massacre.

The corridor was silent, save for Chen Yue’s ragged breathing.

The Salt Society headquarters had more than two hundred security guards on duty. Apart from a lucky few who fled, most now lay dead on the first floor.

Xiya Zi was beside herself with joy. She admitted that joining Chu Tianfeng had been impulsive, and at the time, she’d been both nervous and uncertain. Now, however, she felt nothing but relief—her impulsive choice had given her a rare opportunity.

Two hundred martial artists’ corpses meant two hundred restless souls. Some of them were powerful, especially the one who’d wielded the steel whip against Chu Tianfeng.

She sensed that if she could absorb his soul, she’d break through to the Foundation Establishment stage and become a true ghost cultivator.

Chu Tianfeng seemed to understand her impatience, and he struck first—this time, not with ice, but with a barrage of flaming arrows.

Damn it! Chen Yue cursed inwardly. He’d been burned by those arrows before and had no wish to endure it again. He spun his whip into a wall of steel and retreated.

Chu Tianfeng’s flaming arrows, unlike the ice, carried less force but seared with intense heat.

A burst of flame—the whip caught fire. In panic, Chen Yue threw it aside.

Seeing his opponent disarmed, Chu Tianfeng’s confidence soared. Another volley of fire arrows flew.

Terrified, Chen Yue leapt back, hurling his flashlight at Chu Tianfeng like a projectile.

Chu Tianfeng easily dodged it, a faint smile on his lips. The flashlight smashed into the wall, shattering both itself and the stone.

Chen Yue pushed his speed to the limit, barely escaping the rain of fire. The flaming arrows struck the corridor walls, burning holes the size of wine cups straight through the stone.

He barely had time for shock; only one thought filled his mind: escape!

His opponent’s power was simply beyond him now—staying meant only one outcome: death.

He didn’t want to die—no one does, least of all Chen Yue. Years of privilege and high rank had made him cherish his life more than anyone.

Without waiting for the next attack, Chen Yue turned and fled for the lobby with all his might.