Chapter 46: The Arrival of a Formidable Foe

Confronted by the threats of Wang Jisheng and Luo Qiankun, Lin Feng remained indifferent, unfazed by their intimidation. This left Wang Haiyang in a difficult position, caught between two sides he could not appease, beads of sweat forming on his brow in his anxiety.

"Wang Jisheng, your subordinate truly has no manners! My master traveled thousands of miles to attend this meeting, risking his life for the benefit of the entire Jisheng Society. Yet your man sits there, pompous and aloof, neither greeting nor offering a seat. It seems he expects us to beg him!"

A young disciple standing behind Luo Qiankun, seeing Lin Feng unmoved, furrowed his brows and shouted loudly, even calling Wang Jisheng by name. His demeanor was exceedingly arrogant.

Wang Jisheng felt a hint of dissatisfaction at this, but since he needed to rely on Luo Qiankun later, he pretended not to hear. Instead, he turned his resentment entirely toward Lin Feng.

"Kid, it's not that I look down on you, but if you had half of Brother Luo's strength, I wouldn't ask you to vacate your seat. You're a youngster barely in your twenties—watching from the sidelines is fine, but if you truly get involved, you'd better worry about your own life."

"So, heed my advice: move out of the way now, or you'll end up humiliating yourself!" Wang Jisheng's expression was dark, his tone calm.

But Wang Haiyang, knowing his father was genuinely angry, hurried to persuade Lin Feng, almost dropping to his knees in supplication.

"Mr. Lin, I beg you, please be compassionate this time. Wang Haiyang is pleading with you!"

Lin Feng glanced at Wang Haiyang, sighed, and stood up to relinquish his seat. He addressed Wang Jisheng coldly, "Wang Jisheng, remember this: if you wish to ask for my help again later, it won't be so simple!"

"Bah! An unknown nobody, leaving as you should—why so verbose? As for asking you to help, I’ll break your hand right now for acting superior!"

The young disciple curled his lip, stepped forward, and unleashed a devastating move with his fist, employing a technique that crashed down with the force of a thousand pounds. His palm seemed to carry tremendous weight, slicing through the air; a blow like this could easily cripple a person, leaving them maimed for life.

Luo Qiankun, rather than intervening, crossed his arms and watched the spectacle with amusement.

Wang Haiyang and Wang Jisheng, ordinary men, could do nothing to stop it. As the disciple’s palm was about to strike Lin Feng’s right arm, everyone watched—some in shock, others in delight, some gloating. No one stepped forward to intervene; all eyes were fixed on Lin Feng as he faced the assault.

His opponent attacked with full force, yet Lin Feng remained calm as a tranquil lake, speaking softly: "These days, it seems even the most mediocre are calling themselves martial artists."

Suddenly, Lin Feng scraped his foot on the ground; his body seemed lifted by a gentle breeze. Like a phantom, he spun in midair, narrowly evading the disciple’s blow.

"Impossible! Is that... a movement technique?"

The disciple, closest to Lin Feng, saw him twist strangely to avoid the punch and was both shocked and enraged.

"I don’t believe you can dodge another punch!" He pressed forward, intent on attacking again.

Outsiders watched for entertainment, but the experienced saw the subtleties. Luo Qiankun, observing Lin Feng’s uncanny movement, narrowed his eyes, abandoning his amusement for a stern shout, halting his disciple's pursuit.

"Wang Kun, stand down!"

Hearing his master’s reprimand, the disciple reluctantly withdrew, glaring at Lin Feng with disdain. "Hmph! You got lucky, kid! Otherwise, I’d have crippled you with one punch!"

Thus, with Luo Qiankun’s angry command, the storm passed.

Wang Haiyang, face drawn, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply. "Whew! Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Wang Jisheng, unable to discern Lin Feng’s technique, continued to underestimate him, turning instead to Luo Qiankun to discuss the matter of dealing with Cheng Longjian.

"Brother Luo, let’s not worry about anything else—today’s showdown is the most important!"

"I’ve investigated: Cheng Longjian is a member of the 'Skull Society,' an underground organization among Chinese Americans. He shares the same lineage as Long Aoyun of the Heavenly Dragon Hall!"

"I suspect Cheng Longjian was brought in by Long Aoyun to stall Jisheng Society, preventing me from participating in the Five Provinces Martial Arts Tournament!"

At the mention of the "Five Provinces Martial Arts Tournament," Luo Qiankun was secretly alarmed, replying solemnly, "Brother Wang, the Five Provinces Martial Arts Tournament is a major event in the underground world, held every four years to mediate disputes and territory among the powers in the five provinces. Martial prowess is paramount, and each city only has one slot. It seems Long Aoyun is planning something underhanded!"

"Exactly. Cheng Longjian and I have a personal grudge—his martial strength is estimated at the peak of the innate stage. To target him, I’ve specially assembled Jisheng Society’s elites into a handgun squad. But martial artists can’t be measured by ordinary standards, so I must ask for your help, Brother Luo. Rest assured, I would never shortchange a friend. Here’s a check for one hundred million, and another upon completion!"

At this point, Wang Jisheng no longer held back, producing a check for one hundred million and handing it over with a broad smile.

"Brother Wang, you’re too generous! For a friend, I’d risk anything. A mere peak-stage internal energy martial artist—I, Luo Qiankun, will surely take his head for you!"

Though Luo Qiankun spoke of brotherly loyalty, his actions were candid—he deftly pocketed the check.

One hundred million before, one hundred million after—a total of two hundred million!

A truly astronomical sum.

And what of Lin Feng’s reward?

Originally promised fifty million, it was changed to ten million, only verbally, with no actual commitment.

The difference in attitude was striking.

Lin Feng sneered silently, thinking, "Wang Jisheng truly is a master of manipulation."

Just as Luo Qiankun boasted he would personally deal with Cheng Longjian, gunshots suddenly erupted from below the White Cloud Pavilion.

"Bang bang bang—"

"It’s Cheng Longjian! He’s come so quickly! Well, let him taste the might of our Jisheng Society handgun squad!"

Upon hearing the gunfire, Wang Jisheng knew the opponent had arrived. He was clearly confident in his handgun squad, laughing heartily, hoping they could weaken his adversary.

However, the barrage of gunfire lasted less than a minute before screams echoed through the air. In under three minutes, the gunshots dwindled to a trickle. Within five minutes, silence reigned, and everyone present swallowed nervously.

Twenty elite marksmen, wiped out in less than five minutes!

Wang Jisheng’s face turned a livid shade, for although he never expected his handgun squad to execute Cheng Longjian, he hadn’t imagined they’d be decimated so quickly. Even if the opponent was a martial artist, facing a group armed with live weapons and trained ex-special forces, he should at least have been held at bay for a while!

Instead, it was as if he moved through a land without opposition—a one-sided slaughter.

A sharp, oppressive wind swept up from downstairs, quickly reaching the second-floor staircase.

Everyone held their breath—

Cheng Longjian had arrived!