Fu Jinmin cowered behind the sheet-metal shield, his heart still pounding. He peeked through a crack and finally saw the faces of the arrivals.
When he got a clear look at Lu Yun, standing beside Ren Facai with a tranquil expression, his corpulent body trembled violently.
’What the fuck! Why is that old monster here?!’
Lu Yun! The legendary name that had been on everyone’s lips lately in the upper circles of Yun Port City!
The terrifying figure who had become a Grandmaster of Huajin at sixty years of age!
"It’s... it’s you! Ren Facai! And... and you, you old bastard!"
As he spoke, Fu Jinmin scrambled behind the large sofa, desperately trying to hide behind the six black-clad Ninjas.
He couldn’t help but shriek, his voice a mix of bravado and terror: "You... you dare trespass in my private residence! Don’t forget, this place... this place is near the Wa Country’s concession! It’s protected by the Consulate!"
"With just one command, the nearby Patrol Office will be here in an instant! You’ll all die here! Die without a grave!"
Meanwhile, the spectral, vengeful spirit of Elder Ren, hovering over the wooden bed in the center of the hall, suddenly grew even more agitated.
Seeing this, a vicious glint flashed in Master Beifeng’s eyes. A small black vial, sealed with a blood-red talisman, had somehow appeared in his hand.
When Lin Fengjiu saw this, his expression changed drastically. He roared, "Stop! Are you insane?!"
As he shouted, he began to rapidly fumble inside the cloth bag slung over his shoulder.
Elder Ren’s spirit, having been nourished by the Dragonfly Water Pointing Acupoint, was already far more powerful than an ordinary malevolent spirit!
If that heretical Daoist used his dark arts to catalyze it with the essence-blood of young boys and girls, it would spiral completely out of control, transforming into a "Blood-Crazed Yin Soul"—a mindless entity that knows only slaughter and consumption!
Once a creature like that is unleashed, it will bring utter devastation for miles around!
Master Beifeng turned a deaf ear to Lin Fengjiu’s warning. Instead, he cackled sinisterly. "Heh heh, a Blood-Crazed Yin Soul? So what? If I can control it, it’s a good soul! Since you’re all courting death, I’ll let it send you on your way!"
He barked an order to his four ferocious-looking disciples, "Stop that meddling Daoist!"
"Yes, Master!" the four disciples shouted in unison. They had clearly practiced some rudimentary external martial arts, making them far more agile than the average person.
The next moment, the four simultaneously drew the short blades from their backs and lunged at Lin Fengjiu from different directions as he was retrieving a Magical Artifact!
Though Lin Fengjiu’s specialty was Daoist arts, as a Warlock who roamed the lands and frequently dealt with evil spirits and creatures of yin, he had certainly not neglected his martial training. He had long ago reached Early-stage Anjin.
However, at this moment, his focus was almost entirely on Beifeng Daoist, so his ability to deal with the four heretical disciples was compromised.
All four were ruthless men. Relying on their youth and strength, they had practiced some unorthodox external arts, and every one of them possessed the power of Ming Jin.
One had even reached Late-stage Mingjin!
Wielding sharp blades, they used exceptionally vicious techniques aimed at Lin Fengjiu’s vital points. With his attention divided, he was thrown into disarray for a moment.
"Die!"
The disciple at Late-stage Mingjin spotted an opening. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes as he thrust his short blade with cunning ruthlessness straight toward the vital point on Lin Fengjiu’s chest!
Lin Fengjiu was experienced, however. At the critical moment, he twisted his body, avoiding the blade by a hair’s breadth. At the same time, he put power into his legs and unleashed a swift back kick, lashing out like a whip to strike the attacker’s flank!
THUD! With a muffled thump and a scream of agony, the man was sent flying by the kick’s latent Dark Force, slamming heavily into the wall.
Seeing this, the other three faltered in their attack. Fear flickered in their eyes, and they subconsciously took a few steps back.
A flicker of calculation crossed one of their faces, replaced by a savage grin. His hand shot to his waistband.
Tucked there was a gleaming, pitch-black Mauser pistol!
He raised the muzzle without hesitation and aimed it at Lin Fengjiu, who had just repelled them and was now pulling an object from his bag: an antique bronze Eight Trigrams Mirror, its surface inscribed with a Cinnabar Talisman.
"Master, watch out! He has a Western pistol!" Wen Sheng and Qiucai cried out from the doorway.
BANG!
The deafening gunshot echoed through the hall. A flash of light from the muzzle, and a bullet screamed toward Lin Fengjiu’s chest. At such close range, it was almost impossible to dodge!
However, in that split second.
CLANG!!!
A sharp, clear sound of metal striking metal rang out.
The bullet heading for Lin Fengjiu’s chest was violently struck by an immense, invisible force when it was less than half a foot from his body, sending it veering wildly off course.
It ended up grazing the sleeve of Lin Fengjiu’s Daoist robe before burying itself deep in the wall behind him with a dull THUD.
Another metal slug, its momentum spent, clattered onto the marble floor and rolled to a stop.
It was a bullet! Another bullet had intercepted the one aimed at Lin Fengjiu with pinpoint accuracy!
The incredible sight plunged the hall into a moment of dead silence.
All eyes instinctively turned toward the source of the second gunshot.
There stood Lu Yun, his left hand still clasped behind his back. His right hand held a level pistol from which wisps of smoke were still rising—it was the very same Browning pistol Ren Facai had used earlier.
Before anyone could recover from their profound shock...
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Four more shots rang out, so fast they nearly blended into a single roar.
A dark, bleeding hole had appeared on the forehead or temple of each of the four heretical disciples.
Blood, mixed with a whitish fluid, streamed down their faces.
The light in their eyes faded as they collapsed to the ground, silent and still.
Lu Yun then smoothly aimed at Beifeng Daoist, who was about to open the black vial. His finger habitually squeezed the trigger twice, but all that came was a soft CLICK, CLICK.
The pistol’s magazine only held six rounds.
Ren Facai had used the first round. Lu Yun had used the second to intercept the fatal bullet. The third through sixth rounds were the four shots he had just fired.
Faced with an empty gun, he advanced while violently throwing the Browning pistol at Beifeng Daoist!
Beifeng Daoist’s reflexes were also far beyond ordinary. The instant he heard the weapon cutting through the air, he instinctively took a large step to his right.
He avoided a fatal blow to the head, but the pistol still slammed into his left shoulder blade with astonishing speed!
"Gah!"
After a short cry of pain, the immense force of the blow sent him staggering backward!
He was stumbling directly toward the simple wooden bed in the center of the hall—the one holding Elder Ren’s corpse!
How could the wooden bed possibly withstand the impact of a grown man crashing into it with such force?
It shattered instantly. Beifeng Daoist grunted as he and the putrid, bluish-grey corpse crashed heavily to the floor together.
After a moment of chaos, Beifeng Daoist gritted his teeth against the shattering pain in his left shoulder and scrambled away from the cold, stiff corpse.
But as he staggered to his feet, his expression turned foul.
The small black vial sealed with a blood-red talisman, which he had been clutching tightly, had flown from his grasp when he fell. It now lay on the marble floor a short distance away.
Fortunately, the vial was exceptionally sturdy and had not shattered.

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