Chapter Forty-Seven: Killing as Easily as Slaughtering Chickens

“Heh! Wang Jisheng, you didn’t expect this, did you? Twenty years later, not only am I not dead, but I’ve returned to Binhai, full of life, to take your miserable life!”

Everyone turned at the sound and saw a powerfully built man with a fierce aura, a broad face, and piercing eyes, standing beside the staircase. A long, narrow scar ran from the corner of his right eye down to his neck—a terrifying sight.

Wang Jisheng was always more cunning than brave, a master of words rather than violence. Spreading his arms and wearing a sincere smile, he spoke gently, “Cheng Longjian, twenty years have passed. You can’t live in the shadows of old grudges forever. How about this: I’ll give you half my assets. Together, we can carve out a new world here in Binhai.”

Cheng Longjian only sneered, his voice icy. “Oh? So I kill your wife and son, and then sit down calmly to discuss cooperation with you—is that what you propose?”

“Cheng Longjian, that half of my property is worth over three billion! This is my utmost sincerity—don’t push me!”

“Push you? Do you know how I survived these past twenty years? Every night, I dream of my wife and son dying in agony, and now you say I’m pushing you? What a joke, Wang Jisheng!”

Cheng Longjian touched the scar on his face. Bloodshot veins crept across his eyes—a hatred for the murder of his family, a vengeance that could not be shared under the same sky. No words could be more apt.

Wang Jisheng’s expression darkened. He had never truly believed he could buy Cheng Longjian off; the offer was merely to convince himself there was no other way. Between them, it was either him or Cheng Longjian—one must die.

“Very well!” Wang Jisheng’s demeanor changed at once, arrogance flashing in his eyes as he clapped loudly and shouted, “Cheng Longjian, I offered you a way out but you refuse. Don’t blame me for being ruthless! Brother Luo, he’s all yours—alive or dead, I don’t care!”

“Good! Brother Wang, you have guts. It’s been years since I faced a real opponent. Let’s see if this Cheng Longjian can live up to my expectations!” Luo Qiankun slapped his chest, exuding heroic vigor, and let out a long, thunderous shout.

Muscles rippled across his body, swelling so fiercely that his shirt burst apart, revealing a physique sculpted like rolling mountains, veins like dragons snaking over bulging muscles. Even his sheer physical presence was intimidating beyond compare.

He stepped forward, crushing the oak floor beneath his foot, his aura overwhelming.

Cheng Longjian glanced dismissively at Luo Qiankun, lifted his right hand, and wagged his finger with contempt. “Tsk, tsk, early inner strength? Not bad. To reach this at your age—your martial talent isn’t poor. But you’re still lacking.”

He shrugged off his shirt, exposing a body chiseled with perfectly defined muscles, as continuous as a range of mountains. What shocked everyone most, however, were the scars—countless, dense, a testament to a life of relentless battle.

They say scars are a man’s medals. With so many, his combat experience was beyond question.

Luo Qiankun’s eyes turned cold as he struck first, toes digging into the floor, launching his attack.

“Pi Gua Palm!”

His right hand transformed from fist to palm, raised high, his form blurring as he closed the distance between them in mere heartbeats. In a flash, his palm descended with the force of a thousand pounds, splitting the air with a thunderous crack.

Cheng Longjian’s expression remained calm. With a quick push of his toe, he retreated half a meter, raising his left arm horizontally to block.

The collision of their flesh sounded like a clash of metal. Luo Qiankun, sensing the advantage, unleashed a surge of inner strength through his palm.

Twin waves of energy burst forth, sending the two-hundred-pound Cheng Longjian flying backward.

“Luo Family Seal!”

Seizing the moment, Luo Qiankun pressed his advantage, eyes flashing as he pursued Cheng Longjian, his hands weaving intricate seals, firing a dozen palm strikes in rapid succession.

Cheng Longjian blocked each strike with his arms, defending without attacking. Within moments, the second floor of Baiyun Pavilion was nearly destroyed by their ferocious battle. Waves of inner energy splintered everything they touched into dust.

“Master, well done! Use the Luo Family Seal and kill him!”
“Bravo, Master!”
“…”

The disciples cheered wildly as Luo Qiankun pressed his assault, even Wang Jisheng was fired up, shouting curses at Cheng Longjian in excitement.

Only Lin Feng glanced at their exchange—childish as two infants squabbling—and said coldly, “Luo Qiankun is about to lose.”

“What? Mr. Lin, you think Luo Qiankun will lose? Impossible! He’s clearly in control…” Wang Haiyang, standing nearby, frowned, about to argue when, in the very next moment, everything changed.

“Luo Family Seal? A low-level technique at best! Watch carefully—this is my sect’s art: Collapsing Fist!”

Cheng Longjian’s body tensed as he broke free from Luo Qiankun’s close-quarters grapple. With a roar, he gathered all his energy into his arms.

“No! He’s about to…”

Luo Qiankun had just unleashed his ultimate technique and was now drained, unable to defend. All he could do was watch in horror as Cheng Longjian’s right fist, charged with overwhelming energy, crashed toward him.

“Is this… where I, Luo Qiankun, will die?”

A thunderous crash erupted as Luo Qiankun crossed his arms to shield himself, taking the punch head-on. It felt as if countless waves of inner force battered his body. His arms shattered at the point of impact, and his organs shook as if struck by an earthquake, blood spurting from his mouth and nose.

His massive frame was sent flying, skidding over ten meters before slamming into a sofa and finally coming to a halt. When he stopped, Luo Qiankun no longer had the strength to rise.

“Heh, so this is Binhai’s number one martial artist? All show, no substance.”

Coughing blood, Luo Qiankun struggled to speak, “Impossible… you were at the peak of Innate Realm—how…”

“Innate Realm? Heh! I reached its peak ten years ago. Now, I’ve mastered inner strength!”

At those words, Luo Qiankun spat another mouthful of blood. He had underestimated his enemy, and now paid the price—his defeat was total, his life hanging by a thread.

Seeing their master fall, Luo Qiankun’s disciples, blood boiling with rage, charged together—over a dozen against one.

“Master, let us avenge you! I refuse to believe we brothers can’t take him down!”

“Let’s go, together!”

But these motley disciples were nothing but lambs to the slaughter. How could a man like Cheng Longjian, bathed in blood, spare them? With a single punch, he tore out one man’s heart. Every blow that followed was lethal and ruthless.

In less than ten minutes, the core disciples Luo Qiankun had brought lay sprawled on the floor, only four or five left, gasping for breath.

Luo Qiankun clenched his teeth, blood foaming at his lips as he roared, “Cheng Longjian! I, Luo Qiankun, swear—if I survive today, I will tear you limb from limb to avenge this hatred!”

Cheng Longjian looked down on the broken Luo Qiankun, a chilling smile on his lips. “Ah, you remind me—one must pull up weeds by the root! One thousand and thirty-one.”

“One thousand and thirty-one? What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? I mean… you’ll be the one thousand and thirty-first to die by my hand!”