Chapter Fourteen: Shadows in the Night

“Are you saying you look down on me?” Yang Wenhao’s words caught the crime boss off guard for a moment. Then, right before the stunned eyes of both men, Yang Wenhao reached out and effortlessly crushed the shatterproof wine glass on the table with one hand. Miraculously, his hand remained unscathed, not a single scratch from the shards.

This scene left the crime boss utterly shocked. After a moment, his gaze grew heavy as he looked at Yang Wenhao. “Are you one of the martial arts people?”

Yang Wenhao was puzzled. “Martial arts?”

A man who could rise to the position of crime boss relied on his keen eyes and sharp intuition. Seeing Yang Wenhao’s reaction, he instantly understood.

“Let’s talk about the corpse,” the crime boss quickly changed the topic. “I’ve got things to do today. I’ll send someone to take you to Zhuo Youxuan’s body.”

Yang Wenhao was still confused, having just heard the words ‘martial arts.’ He knew exactly what ‘martial arts’ meant, and it piqued his curiosity—could the crime boss know something about people like him, those who wielded power beyond ordinary men?

But after that, the crime boss said nothing more about martial arts, as if he had never uttered a word.

Once he left, a young man familiar with Sun Wentao was sent over. His name was Liu Hongda, a man who did dirty work for the crime boss. Just by looking at him, no one would guess that this sunny, polite-looking Liu Hongda was one of the boss’s henchmen for the filthiest jobs. Sometimes, appearances truly are deceiving.

After leaving the Crimson Bar, Sun Wentao asked, “Brother Liu, where did you bury Zhuo Youxuan?”

“Shh…” Liu Hongda pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence.

Sun Wentao quickly closed his mouth.

Liu Hongda whispered, “Keep your voice down—too many people around.”

In this line of work, caution was constant. After all, everyone’s hands were stained with blood.

Despite that, Liu Hongda was loyal to his friends; at least he regarded Sun Wentao and Yang Wenhao as his own.

The group walked in silence, following Liu Hongda to an empty road.

Yang Wenhao, after a long pause, decided to ask, “Brother Liu, what exactly is ‘martial arts’? Do you know?”

Liu Hongda looked at him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

Clearly, Liu Hongda knew something.

Yang Wenhao replied, “I’m just curious. Martial arts sounds like something from a wuxia novel.”

Glancing at both Yang Wenhao and Sun Wentao, Liu Hongda said, “I can tell you, but you must never say I was the one who told you. If the boss finds out, I’ll be skinned alive—and you won’t fare much better.”

“Never,” Yang Wenhao assured him, true to his word.

Liu Hongda continued, “To be honest, I only know some rumors. They say the martial arts world is a group of people with extraordinary skills, like the heroes in those old tales.”

Sun Wentao quickly asked, “Brother Liu, are you one of them?”

“Me?” Liu Hongda scoffed at himself. “If I were, I wouldn’t be standing here with you—I’d be living the good life.”

His words left Sun Wentao speechless.

Even the crime boss refused to talk about it, treating it as taboo. That alone spoke volumes about the power of martial arts.

“We’re here,” Liu Hongda suddenly stopped before a pond.

Sun Wentao’s lips quivered. “Zhuo Youxuan’s body is in there?”

He had imagined the body would be buried somewhere, but instead it was dumped in the pond, left for the fish.

Liu Hongda corrected him, “Not here. It’s at the end of that drainage ditch.”

“Ah…” Sun Wentao’s mouth hung open, shocked. He thought feeding the body to fish was sinful enough, but to put it in a filthy, muddy ditch?

“What are you ‘ah’-ing about?” Liu Hongda glared at him. “No one comes here. And even if the body rots, the stench is masked by the ditch—no one would notice.”

“True,” Sun Wentao conceded; it did make sense.

Liu Hongda said, “Go down and fish it out.”

“Me?” Sun Wentao was stunned.

Liu Hongda rolled his eyes. “Of course. You think I should do it? I buried it, now you want me to dig it up too? Am I crazy?”

Sun Wentao looked at Yang Wenhao, whose face was cold and unreadable, clearly not in the mood to be persuaded.

“Ah… For the sake of my life, I’ll do it,” Sun Wentao muttered, resigning himself to his fate.

He stripped off his shirt, rolled up his pants, and reached in with both hands. “Ugh, it stinks—worse than a toilet.”

But no matter how foul, it had to be done.

Half an hour later, Sun Wentao looked miserably at Liu Hongda. “Brother Liu, are you sure it’s here? I’ve been digging for half an hour, and all I’ve found is mud.”

Liu Hongda was perplexed. “That’s impossible—it hasn’t been long. I remember exactly where I put it.”

“Maybe you remembered wrong,” Sun Wentao suggested.

“No way,” Liu Hongda shook his head. “I might forget other things, but not this—not even if you beat me.”

Both Liu Hongda and Yang Wenhao were puzzled.

There were two possibilities: either Liu Hongda remembered wrong—though by his demeanor, any mistake wouldn’t be much off—or something else was amiss, since half an hour of digging yielded nothing.

Even if Liu Hongda’s memory was spot-on, Zhuo Youxuan’s body was initially buried there, but what happened afterward was anyone’s guess.

While Yang Wenhao was lost in thought, his peripheral vision caught a shadow. “Someone’s there!”

The figure, realizing he’d been spotted, immediately turned and fled. The twilight made him vanish in an instant.

But Yang Wenhao was no ordinary man—a cultivator. He gave chase without hesitation.

His sudden sprint left Liu Hongda and Sun Wentao confused, unable to grasp what had happened.

Meanwhile, Yang Wenhao pursued the shadow relentlessly.

“Great Shift of Heaven and Earth!”

With a burst of technique, Yang Wenhao’s speed became incomparable, leaving afterimages in his wake.

Yet, with such acceleration, his energy drained rapidly. If he couldn’t catch up in five minutes, his energy would be depleted by the Great Shift.

The Great Shift of Heaven and Earth was powerful, but consumed too much energy. If ordinary speed sufficed, he wouldn’t have used it at all.