Chapter 242: Murderous Intent in the Night

"Dad, please try to persuade Great-Grandpa again."

In the Public Security Association's lounge, Xu Weizhou covered the mouthpiece of his phone and spoke into it.

"This matter has already been decided."

A man's voice came from the other end.

"It's too late for you to say anything now."

"Matters of the Inner World are personal affairs. That's the rule!"

Xu Weizhou steeled himself and shouted.

"Heh."

The man said coldly, "Rules? I'll tell you what the rules are, Xu Weizhou. The rule is that he's provoked public outrage. He messed with the Eight Great Families, so he has to die!"

"Why don't you understand what I'm saying?" Xu Weizhou flared up as well.

"Do you really think you can beat Old Yan? Do you honestly believe the Eight Great Families are invincible?"

"So what if you brought in a fourth-tier expert? You have to realize that right now, Old Yan is an absolute prize for any faction! I'm not just saying this as his friend—I'm thinking about our family!"

"Even if the Xu Family ends up getting involved, let me give you one last piece of advice. Don't go yourself. Old Yan—"

"Beep... beep... beep..."

The call disconnected.

Xu Weizhou stared dejectedly at his screen.

This was the first time in his life he had ever spoken to his father with such backbone. He had thought that joining the Public Security Association would give him a bit more say.

Instead, it had only bought him the chance to say a few more sentences before being shut down.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

Fan Jue happened to push the door open and walk in, catching the tail end of the conversation.

He didn't know the exact details regarding the Eight Great Families, but knowing them, they were definitely going to stir up trouble.

Xu Weizhou's current behavior only confirmed it.

"It's nothing, Brother Fan."

Xu Weizhou sighed. "The Public Security Association probably caught wind of it too, right?"

"Your family did a good job keeping it under wraps. We haven't heard anything yet."

Fan Jue pulled out a chocolate bar, took a bite, and offered a piece to Xu Weizhou. After being politely declined, he spoke softly.

"But I'd still advise you to talk to your family and tell them not to do anything stupid. From what I know, the Public Security Association headquarters has internally designated Mr. Yan Jing as a model hero of Rainbow City. His performance during Stage B practically saved our entire organization."

Yan Jing had ultimately pocketed the vast majority of the assets, which spared many people from disaster. Furthermore, his assistance to the two West Street Artisans had ensured that the players under their command kept their lives.

Regardless of whether Yan Jing actually intended to save anyone, the fact remained that he did.

"The only reason the Eight Great Families dare to make a move is because they have backing from other cities. The Public Security Association is investigating it right now."

Fan Jue said evenly, "Even if Rainbow City isn't particularly outstanding within the Fifth Ring Domain, it's still not a place where just anyone can run wild."

"..."

Xu Weizhou fell silent for a long time before asking, "Brother Fan, could you do me a favor?"

"Spit it out." Fan Jue took a huge bite of chocolate.

"This is my home address." Xu Weizhou grabbed a pen and paper, scribbled down a few lines, and handed it to Fan Jue.

"Can you find an excuse to arrest my parents and lock them up for a few days?"

"Your father is Xu Zhong, right? Entered the second tier at forty?"

Fan Jue took the slip of paper, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket. "Leave it to me."

...

...

The dead of night.

The Ling'an Suburbs.

Three figures walked toward an abandoned, unfinished villa complex.

The figure in the middle wore a suit and tie with a newspaper tucked under his arm, looking exactly like a stereotypical detective out of a movie.

Judging by his face, he appeared to be in his thirties, sporting a thin mustache.

Flanking him were two old men, both radiating a heavy aura of decay.

The old man on the left had a sharp black horn growing from his forehead. He was incredibly thin—borderline shriveled—with his facial skin clinging tightly to his skull and his eyes sunken deep into their sockets.

The one on the right was the exact opposite. His pale skin was covered in age spots, stretched tight over bulging fat that looked ready to spill out at any moment. He wore no shirt, and his massive belly cascaded in folds that nearly hid his legs entirely, making him look like a slowly wriggling silkworm pupa.

Despite their advanced age, both men showed a great deal of respect for the detective-like figure between them.

Suddenly, the detective stopped. He closed his eyes and twitched his nose.

"I smell it."

"Right here."

He snapped his fingers. Weird Energy surged, and a sleek, long-bodied hound materialized at his feet.

He crouched down and patted the dog's head.

"Go."

Receiving the command, the hound sprinted toward the villa complex ahead, its form quickly vanishing into the murky night.

"Mr. Tao, thank you so much... for coming... this time."

The morbidly obese old man spoke, having to stop and pant for breath every few words. Sweat continuously beaded on his forehead.

"Indeed... we ask that you... continue to look after us..."

The old man on the left hailed from the Lin Family. His speech was equally broken, but for a different reason.

It wasn't due to fat, but extreme frailty. He lacked the energy to speak, sounding as if he might breathe his last at any second.

"Alright, alright. I'm just following orders. This man killed the only seed from our Longhe City. According to protocol, matters of the Inner World aren't for us to intervene in, but the higher-ups couldn't swallow their anger."

The detective pulled a cigar from his pocket. Weird Energy flared at his fingertips, slicing off the cap. He placed it in his mouth, snapped his fingers again to light it, and exhaled thick plumes of white smoke.

He made no attempt to hide his disdain for the two old men beside him.

These fools couldn't advance to the fourth tier, so they resorted to crooked paths.

The fat one clearly gorged himself every day to simulate the methods of the Inner World Pathway. He hoped to achieve dual mastery, cultivating both the Inner World Pathway and the Ritual System simultaneously.

There were indeed cases of people pulling that off, but he was completely delusional to think someone of his caliber could manage it.

The other one was even stupider. That horn on his head was clearly a foundation built during childhood. It could have been used to stabilize his base and increase the upper limit of the Rituals he could absorb, but instead, he was using it to store his own life essence in a desperate bid to extend his lifespan.

A body with higher vitality consumed it at a faster rate—he was probably clinging to that reasoning.

"Please rest assured, Mr. Tao. Once this is done, your reward will absolutely not be lacking. It's not just us—some of our old friends are waiting outside, and we will certainly present you with a heavy gift when the time comes."

"Mm."

Tao Long nodded.

If it were up to him, coming in alone would have been enough. These old geezers were just in the way, yet two of them had tagged along anyway. As for the ones waiting outside, compared to these two, they were even more extreme, truly a case to surpass and not fall short.

Several of them had even been carried out in their coffins.

This so-called foundation of their families was an absolute joke.

Before long, the faint sound of barking echoed from the abandoned buildings standing tall in the night.

"Let's go."

Tao Long tossed his cigar aside and said coldly, "It seems we've found him."

"It took a whole afternoon just to pinpoint his exact location. He must have some sort of item to conceal his tracks. This guy really isn't simple."

The group walked toward the barking, soon stepping onto a small path crossing a patch of lawn. This green strip sat between two detached villas, and a plaza with an abandoned fountain could be seen at the end of the path.

"To be able to hide in a place like this... he really isn't simple..."

The fat old man was sweating profusely from exhaustion, wiping his pale, wrinkled skin.

"But... he still has to die..."

He chuckled. Because the narrow lawn was too cramped for all three to walk abreast, he had fallen behind.

Suddenly, he thought he heard a faint click.

It sounded like a camera shutter...

Immediately after, right before his shocked eyes, the two villas beside him began to stretch endlessly upward. Even the distant fountain sprouted like a vine, piercing straight toward the sky.

Something was wrong!

Startled, he immediately tried to run, only to find that his body had become as rigid as a sheet of paper, completely paralyzed.

A second later, black fog swept across the narrow lawn.

A flash of light streaked through the fog, tearing through the pitch-black curtain to pierce straight into the old man's chest!

"Ahhh!!!"

The old man broke free of his paralysis and immediately shrieked in agony.

Up ahead, Tao Long and the frail old man were caught off guard and whipped around to face the thick fog billowing behind them.

They watched as a massive, obese figure flew out of the fog and crashed heavily onto the ground nearby.

"Pfft—"

The fat old man hit the dirt, coughing up a huge mouthful of blood.

"Hum—"

Without any hesitation, blinding lights erupted behind both Tao Long and the skinny old man.

Yellow, yellow-purple, purple.

Yellow, purple, purple, purple-black.

The skinny old man pointed a finger toward the fog, and a purple light flashed.

"Disperse!"

A massive gray force field instantly unfurled, forcefully driving away the black fog. At the same time, their speed and strength both surged.

This was the power of his purple-grade Calming Rite.

Feeling the rushing power in his body, Tao Long shot the old man a surprised look, not expecting him to actually be of some use. In the next instant, he charged into the dissipating fog.

Knowing this person had managed to kill Chu Ming, he had absolutely no intention of underestimating his opponent.

His purple Calming Rite flared. His originally well-proportioned figure immediately ballooned, straining his suit to the tearing point as he lunged toward the silhouette in the fog.

Simultaneously, a yellow Day Selection Ritual flashed. The hound he had sent out earlier instantly appeared at his feet, leaping to tear at the figure alongside him.

"Bang!"

Tao Long's fist slammed into the opponent's arm, but the result left him shocked. The man wasn't sent flying as he had expected; he wasn't even knocked back. A massive rebound traveled from the back of Tao Long's hand all the way through his body. Their first exchange was an absolute dead heat.

Then, in the very next moment, he saw Yan Jing blink.

In a flash, he felt the exact same sensation the fat old man had experienced. Locked in complete paralysis, he watched as a fist lunged out of the thinning mist and smashed directly into his face!

"Bang!"

His body was sent flying backward.

Yan Jing didn't let up. With a swift kick, he knocked the hound aside and blinked forward in pursuit.

This was a prime opportunity to test if there was a gap between himself and the fourth tier.

One path he had already figured out was stacking the Potion of Heracles with his Fear Stance, which granted him strength on par with an ordinary fourth-tier expert. And when he unleashed his Fear Bird Form, that power grew even greater.

However, he didn't continue with the brute-force approach. Instead, deep fissures split his skin as he triggered his Fear Bird Form, and countless threads poured from his eyes like a whirlpool, shooting out to envelop Tao Long.

The Death-Sewing Garment.

Now that he had advanced to the third tier, the durability of his threads was leaps and bounds beyond what it used to be. They instantly swathed Tao Long and yanked taut, binding him like a cocoon.

"Squelch, squelch, squelch—"

Mists of blood exploded outward.

"I've found the killer!"

Tao Long bellowed frantically from inside the cocoon.

A dark purple light burst from the fibrous prison.

Yan Jing distinctly felt his own strength sap away, while Tao Long's power surged yet again.

These were the two abilities of Tao Long's fourth rite, the Rite of Summer and Winter Sacrifices.

If someone dealt damage to him, he could lock onto their position. He could also drain their strength and Weird Energy, boosting his own by an equal measure.

A second later, he broke out of the cocoon. Wielding a massive magnifying glass in his hand, he swung it down hard at Yan Jing!

"Clang!"

Yan Jing's spear clashed against the magnifying glass, ringing out with the crisp ring of metal and stone, sending sparks flying.

"Clang— Clang— Clang, clang—"

Their weapons crossed repeatedly, sparks flashing endlessly in the dark as they fought their way toward the plaza.

Tao Long was utterly bewildered. He had assumed that after using the Rite of Summer and Winter Sacrifices, his strength would easily overpower his opponent's. He never expected that once those hideous eyes opened all over the man's skin, his opponent's strength would still eclipse his own, even after the debuff! The sheer force of the blows left the webbing between his thumbs numb and threatening to tear.

Was this guy really only in the third tier?!

Before he could even process it, a strange, creeping sensation washed over him.

It wasn't like the paralysis from earlier; his movements weren't restricted. But for some inexplicable reason, he could feel the power of his Rite of Summer and Winter Sacrifices rapidly decaying.

How was that possible?! It shouldn't have faded this fast!

Panic set in. The buff from his Rite of Summer and Winter Sacrifices was supposed to last at least three minutes, but right now it felt like he only had seconds left. What kind of bizarre ability was this?

His scalp went numb, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to flee seized his mind.

In that split second of distraction, the eerie threads poured from Yan Jing's eyes once more, sweeping toward Tao Long in tandem with the thrusting spear.

"Squelch!!!"

Tao Long never anticipated that Yan Jing could control those threads while simultaneously wielding a spear.

Overwhelmed by the dual assault, Tao Long failed to defend himself. The spear struck him heavily on the shoulder, forcing a mouthful of blood from his lips. Before he could react, the squirming threads surged right into his open mouth and down his throat.

"Damn it!"

His eyes bulged. He tried to run, but it was too late.

As the buff from the Rite of Summer and Winter Sacrifices vanished, he looked down in stunned horror to see a massive rift tear open across his stomach, countless threads writhing their way out.

In a panic, he looked toward the fat and frail old men in the distance, hoping to beg for help, only to find them hopelessly entangled in a desperate battle with the threads as well.

His eyes went wide!

This guy was actually fighting him while simultaneously keeping the other two pinned down with threads?!

Before he could even process the thought, he felt the threads pierce through the roof of his mouth and bore straight into his brain.

"No... no..."

He reached out a hand in despair. His pupils dilated, and he breathed his last.

Yan Jing turned his head. The pitch-black, feathered tentacles sprouting from his body surged, lunging at the two remaining old men.

"No, no! We acknowledge you! We acknowledge your position in Ling'an—"

Trapped in a sky full of threads, the heavily injured fat old man waved his hands, trying to beg for his life. But before he could finish, a spear plunged straight into his throat.

He had only managed to survive the earlier strike to his chest because of the fat and healing granted by the Calming Rite. This time, there wasn't enough fat around his neck to save him. He died instantly.

Beside him, the last remaining frail old man looked at Yan Jing in sheer despair.

"You... you aren't an anomaly!! You aren't human... you aren't..."

He screamed at the top of his lungs, losing every shred of the dignity expected of a dying elder. He shrieked like a greenhorn terrified in the face of death.

Yan Jing chuckled.

At that moment, he really didn't look human. His body was covered in eyes and tentacles, his own eyes burning a bloody crimson. He was wreathed in black mist, surrounded by wildly overgrown thorns.

"Perhaps."

He spoke as he casually ripped the frail old man's head off, grabbing it by the horn to carry it in his hand.

"Xiao Yanzi, there are still a lot of people outside. They're all from the Eight Great Families."

Having told the helpers she brought to hold their ground, Shen Youran ran out from the shadows and spoke to Yan Jing.

"Yeah, I know."

Yan Jing reached out a hand covered in blinking eyes, caught a slowly falling white flower from the air, and tucked it into Shen Youran's hair.

Then, swinging the old man's severed head by its horn, he strode forward into the night.