The torrential rain poured on unabated. In front of the brightly illuminated clubhouse, deathly silence reigned.
The subordinate sent to scout the situation stumbled back, pale-faced. He looked toward an anxious Ling Shuo, parting his trembling lips, but not a sound came out.
"Speak! Have you gone mute?!"
Ling Shuo flared in fury.
"All—all—every single one of them..."
The subordinate panted, trying desperately to pull his mind back from that mountain of corpses and sea of blood. "All dead. Every... every single one—no, I mean, not all of them. The unrelated folks are basically untouched, but everyone who came for the meeting..."
Without waiting for him to finish, Ling Shuo shoved him aside and led his men storming into the blood-soaked clubhouse.
Soon, faint retching sounds rose behind him.
In the gentle breeze, the stench of death intertwined with sweet, cloying fragrance, becoming increasingly nauseating.
And the mangled carnage before their eyes rendered everyone utterly speechless.
Even the Mirror path Celestial Chosen who had sealed off the entire clubhouse from the start underwent a shift in expression, glancing back instinctively toward the unlucky bastard who had tried to cut in when Xiao An spoke earlier.
"..." The man who had previously harbored objections twitched, his face instantly draining of color. Stumbling back a step, he bolted outside and began violently vomiting.
Whether from shock or terror, no one could tell.
Only, no one mocked him now. It wasn't just him; every single person witnessing the scene felt nothing but primal fear.
Even the hardened tough guys who had grown accustomed to the dead and whose faces wouldn't twitch even when disposing of rotting corpses now found their expressions contorting again and again.
What truly inspired terror was not the dead.
It was the lingering, razor-sharp aura clinging to the fissures, the blood, and the cracks—like a blade pressed against one's throat, sending chills down the spine, making it hard to breathe.
In silence, they moved upward all the way to the unrecognizable conference room and those ghastly corpses—
Ling Shuo's eyelid twitched. Behind him, a murmur of admiration sounded.
"So clean."
From the shadows where the light couldn't reach, a stooped figure glancing left and right ambled in. He bent down, reached out, and dipped a finger into the pool of blood spreading across the floor before putting it in his mouth. Sucking the razor-sharp nuance lingering within the coppery sweetness, that blade-like bite left him thoroughly immersed, unable to pull himself away.
Ling Shuo was silent for a moment before suddenly asking, "...Old Chu, could you pull this off?"
"Huh? Me? Depends on the situation. With sufficient prep and enough time for the toxins to take effect, in an enclosed space like this with the Mirror's seal, it wouldn't be hard.
In fact, it'd be easier and simpler than what he did."
Old Chu chuckled eerily. "Only, if you asked me to go head-to-head against that young master, heheh, forget it. I still want to live a few more years.
Even among fellow beasts, how could a gutter rat like me compare to tigers, wolves, hawks, and falcons?"
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the foul air, his face beaming with a grin. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of the massacre, the aftershocks of battle, clicking his tongue in marvel.
He could practically visualize that brutal, straightforward scene.
"So fast, and precise too, without a trace of hesitation." He reached out to stroke the gouges on the wall. "At first, each stance and strike seemed a bit unpracticed, yet there was no hesitation whatsoever—crisp, decisive, as if driven purely by instinct.
So..."
He clicked his tongue in admiration, racking his brains for the right words, until finally arriving at a conclusion that even left him silent: "...pure?"
Yes, pure.
Such results, he could achieve them too; perhaps another expert could as well. But it would never be this clean!
Aside from that incisive aura, not a single trace of anything else could be felt.
Killing intent? Malice? Resentment? Wrath?
None.
This was the most crucial part.
The entire process had been so clean-cut that while everyone was caught up in wondering whether it was Saber-Tooth or Hunting Finger, they subconsciously overlooked this bizarre aftermath.
"What do you mean?" Ling Shuo asked, somewhat baffled. "Is that important?"
"Boss Ling, you lead a syndicate and rarely trade blows yourself, so naturally you wouldn't understand these things. To you, it's insignificant, but to someone like me who tussles with life and death every day, this is the truly terrifying part."
Old Chu gave an eerie laugh and suddenly held out his hand. His five fingers instantly turned crimson, red turning to purple, purple shot with green—just looking at them sent shivers down the spine.
"This move is called Blood Quiver. It's a very common White Stag technique. Everyone practices it, but each person does it differently—and the traces they leave behind are different too."
With a casual claw, a mangled corpse on the ground suddenly withered and crumbled, covered in layers of greenish blotches.
Now, anyone could see the difference.
The moldering corpse emitted a heavy floral fragrance that made one's vision black out in waves, instinctively wanting to step back.
"See that? Many techniques inherently rely on soul and willpower to trigger. Only by pouring in consciousness, or even lodging hatred and rancor, can they take effect. That's why sometimes, the greedier you are, the stronger it gets, and the more wicked you are, the more venomous it becomes. The greater the master, the less their traces can be hidden."
Old Chu turned his head back slowly and asked, "But Boss Ling, can you feel any of that here?"
No.
No matter how carefully one sensed and felt, not a single remnant of malice could be found.
Clean as if washed with water.
It was like a sudden accident, an unforeseen disaster.
Investing not a shred of emotion, calmly and indifferently shearing life into ribbons, once all trivial externalities were stripped away, slaughter itself became so pure.
As if...
Dispensing an Absolute Sentence from high above.
Absolute Sentence?
The moment he came to his senses, Ling Shuo suppressed a shiver and instinctively looked back at Old Chu, only to see those cloudy eyes looking back at him.
Finally, an understanding that could never be committed to words was conveyed.
"I truly just can't wrap my head around it..." Old Chu sighed, scratching his ears and cheeks. "At such an age, to possess such attainment and skill—with just a bit more effort, he'd be fully qualified to compete for the position of Hand of the Chief, wouldn't he?
Such a prime seed, so why did the An family just cast him out and leave him unattended?"
No one answered.
In the brief silence, Ling Shuo reached out and patted his shoulder.
"If you can't figure it out, then... don't think about it. Everyone just needs to focus... focus on their duties...
and..."
His expression twitched once, then again. Striving desperately to restrain himself, he squeezed the words through his gritted teeth: "...that will be enough."
No, he couldn't laugh. Not yet.
Right now he had to stay humble, stay cautious. After all, there was no telling what might happen next. He had to be prudent—at the very least, wait until all Seven Cities were firmly in his grasp before letting himself show a bit of triumph.
Yet he couldn't do it!
No matter what, he couldn't suppress the urge to laugh like a madman.
Amidst the corpses and blood, Ling Shuo burst out laughing, stepping on the fools who had dared to resist him, almost dancing with sheer ecstatic abandon.
He had won!
Once again, he had won his gamble!
A night of tempestuous wind and rain washed away the blood.
Raging waves carried off countless broken corpses—
Once all the rebels harboring resentment and dissent were lured out and thoroughly disposed of, Ling Shuo, who had barely rested for two days, mobilized all his deployments like a rabid dog, pouncing upon the remaining five cities that now stood before him completely unobstructed and defenseless.
Kneel, or die!
Everywhere he passed, opposition crumbled like dry leaves before a storm, meeting virtually no decent resistance—
Speed was the soul of war, after all.
Ling Shuo moved so fast that there was simply no time for anyone to react.
Essentially, the people who could call the shots in each syndicate and guild had either surrendered early at the first sign of trouble or had already been wiped out down to the last man under Xiao An's hands. Left headless, the rabble didn't even need Ling Shuo to intervene before turning on one another in factional fighting.
Others, seeing that the tide had turned, dropped to their knees in a slide even faster and more ferociously, without a second thought.
Just as Chen Xingzhou had said:
In the rules of the Wild Gathering, the front was written as "the weak are meat for the strong, winner takes all," while the flip side was written as "bully the weak, fear the strong; cling to life, dread death."
Some people wouldn't listen when you reasoned with them, but the moment they tasted the punishment of an iron fist or witnessed the gruesome end of those who resisted, their eyes instantly turned innocent and pure, outshining even fresh college students.
Don't ask—if you did, they'd say it was their first time on the job and their families had no idea.
After all, everyone entered the underworld to make money. But sometimes, whether you made money or not didn't matter—throwing your life away was just too raw a deal.
So what if it was bitter? So what if it was tough? Just drop to your knees and bear it, and it would pass.
Most of the street thugs, parasites, trash, and good-for-nothings who couldn't survive in honest trades simply lacked anything resembling a spine. No matter how tough a bastard acted, once a blade was at his throat, he quickly learned how to read the room.
And if there really were stubborn hard cases who couldn't stomach it and refused to kneel—
"Hello, care to hear about Saber-Tooth?"
By now, the underworld across the Seven Cities no longer dared look down on the limping youth who trailed behind Ji Jue in public.
In fact, catching a glimpse of him on the street was enough to make them shiver.
Even though he didn't dare look people in the eye when speaking, and would still blush when pretty ladies teased him and ruffled his hair, when he came kicking in doors—hacking from the ground floor to the rooftop, slashing from one end of the street to the other—he looked the exact fucking same, alright?!
He'd even say thank you to you!
Yet in a mere three days, the people who had died by his hands piled up almost into a mountain. A dedicated crew trailed behind him just to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies, and every day when they got home and drank themselves to sleep, they were plagued by nightmares.
Regardless of man or woman, young or old, asking nothing of hardships or excuses, impervious to threats or bribes, the moment he drew his sword, he went to work—chopping from morning till night without batting an eye.
And after the killing, while waiting for the cleanup crew, he would sit in the car, pull out a pocket booklet, and memorize vocabulary!
Supposedly he had even hired a private tutor...
One could only say that although he hailed from the orthodox White Stag lineage of the An family, Xiao An was truly a good kid at heart.
Besides, the An family wasn't a training camp for homicidal maniacs; their education even repeatedly stressed the preciousness and hardship of life—if one couldn't grasp the weight of life, how could one perform one's duties properly? If one couldn't understand how dazzling life was as a fleeting ephemeral blossom, how could one touch the true essence of Bitter Day?
Then, with Wen Wen teaching by word and deed, he became all the more well-behaved and polite, never even jaywalking at a red light.
Looking back, it was actually that dog Ji Jue who had never taught the boy anything good...
In normal life, even if someone pointed a finger at Xiao An's nose and cursed him, mocking him to his face as a damned cripple, Xiao An wouldn't get angry.
He certainly wouldn't fly into a rage just because someone glared at him or bumped into him.
The sole exception was the Wild Gathering.
Joining the Wild Gathering to run rampant and do whatever one pleased meant forfeiting the protection of all rules and every right to exist that an ordinary human possessed.
To trample on others' lives meant that you didn't value your own life either.
If so, life and death naturally didn't matter—
What was more, they dared to make an enemy of Brother Ji Jue!
Brother Ji Jue was such a good person, yet they opposed him; they weren't even human anymore!
Brother Ji Jue had shown immense mercy by inviting them to be his dogs, yet they wouldn't even kowtow. Anything else they had to say, they could say it to Lihen!
Today, Xiao An was still working his shift, full of drive and motivation!
While the foul wind and bloody rain swept endlessly through the Seven Cities, the ripples had already traveled far into the distance.
Upon the Endless Sea, nestled amid countless jagged reefs, lay a gigantic vessel that had run aground for who knew how long. From the outside, it looked rusted and dilapidated, but inside, it was resplendent with gold and jade, bustling and extraordinarily prosperous.
Through years of expansion and construction, it had virtually turned into a small township, with countless smuggling fleets arriving and departing every single day. A vast underworld economy converged here, and amid the circulation of endless wealth, a miraculous spectacle of luxury had bloomed.
And at the very top of the ship, inside a tower-like structure that overlooked everything, dead silence reigned.
"The An family? Are you certain?"
Satria, Dragon Head of the Wild Gathering's Iron Hook District, suddenly frowned, his expression livid. "Did you see clearly?"
"I-it's definitely someone from the An family."
The subordinate reporting swallowed dryly. "Our people already investigated. Not only the surname and projection technique, but his appearance is also very similar to that newly appointed Hand of the Chief who appeared in the Empire recently..."
"Who the fuck asked you about that?!"
Satria was furious, wanting nothing more than to kick this idiot who couldn't grasp the point into next week. "Was he wearing gloves?!"
"No, it's confirmed, he didn't—"
The subordinate shook his head adamantly. Before he could finish, the Dragon Head's kick landed, sending him flying straight into the cabin wall. It nearly punched through the bulkhead and sent him hurtling out from the highest deck.
Kneeling on the floor, coughing up blood incessantly, he dared not make a sound.
"Why didn't you say so sooner?!"
Satria barked in fury. "What good is feeding a bunch of useless trash like you if you can't even grasp the main point?!"
"Alright, don't take it out on the subordinates."
In the bronze mirror to the other side, a genteel middle-aged man dressed in formal attire like an artist sat on his sofa, as nonchalant as ever.
Caruso, Dragon Head of Fog Hidden Reef and patriarch of his family, spoke slowly: "As I see it, whether he's from the An family or whether he's a Saber-Tooth isn't important. The pressing matter is how to deal with the master's retaliation. After all, according to rumors, that gentleman has always liked to see things through to the bitter end. Now that he's drawn his blade, I'm afraid he has more moves waiting for us."
"Fuck's sake, that bastard Ji let a rabid dog loose—who is he trying to scare?"
A roaring voice echoed from another bronze mirror. "Worst-case scenario, we fight it out with real blades and guns! Who's afraid of him? Does he really think we were frightened into growing up? Just because of his meddling, the route from the Seven Cities to the Federation is practically severed! The losses to each family alone are already uncountable, and how many people are about to starve?
Since he refuses the face we gave him, let's fight!
Fight to the end, fight to the death! If we can't win, the Seven Cities won't have it easy either!"
"Cut the crap, William. Stop putting on an act, will you?"
Satria shot him an annoyed look. "If you're going to keep acting like this, don't bother showing up to the next meeting.
If you want to fight, let your Stone Leaf Wild Gathering lead the charge, and we'll wave the flags and cheer for you."
The burly man named William gave a cold scoff. "I wouldn't mind, but I'm afraid you two will sit on the fence. Let me give you some advice: don't harbor any delusions. That bastard Ji never intended to negotiate in good faith from the start. No matter how much face you offer him, he'll only stomp it under his feet.
If we truly intend to oppose him, we'd better prepare for a prolonged war. Who knows, the main event might only just be starting."
In the brief silence, a knock suddenly sounded at the door.
Disregarding the rules of the Wild Gathering and the Dragon Head's livid countenance, the subordinate guarding outside rushed in holding an item he had just received, hurrying forward to whisper into his ear.
A chilling, sinister look rose in Satria's eyes.
"No need to wait for what's next, gentlemen. One of my subordinates just received this thing... Look, isn't the main event already here?"
He slammed the item against the mirror's surface, projecting its image before the other two, causing their faces to darken even further.
It was an invitation card, tastefully crafted and exquisitely formatted.
By now, it had been distributed to every syndicate, guild, and organization across the Seven Cities, delivered into the hands of every eligible guest. The invitation was courteously worded and humble in tone, softly and politely inviting all recipients to attend a banquet at the Guili Building on Luo Island two days from now.
To celebrate—well—the "thirtieth grand milestone birthday" of the Seven Islands Commerce Association's first president: Mr. Ling Shuo.
Thirtieth. Milestone birthday.
Normally speaking, putting those two words together was quite a stretch.
Yet considering the chaotic state of the Thousand Islands, it was indeed something worth celebrating. After all, in most places here, surviving into one's forties or fifties was no easy feat, and in a hellhole like Mid-Continent, dying in one's thirties could practically be celebrated as a full life.
But what truly mattered at this critical juncture was Ling Shuo's action, what it signaled, and the impact it carried.
As well as the consequences it would produce—
"No wonder everyone says this Mr. Ji is a rare intellect."
In that instant, Caruso couldn't help clapping his hands and sneering. "How is this merely retaliating? He's clearly propping up a Dragon Head with his own hands to set up a rival stage against us!"
Whether a thirtieth birthday was worth celebrating or whether it was actually Ling Shuo's birthday didn't matter in the least. He could celebrate his birthday on whatever day he pleased; after all, there were no household registration records in the Thousand Islands, and he could change his date of birth on the spot if he wanted!
The crux was whether everyone who received the invitation would attend the banquet, present birthday gifts, and kowtow to the birthday boy.
This was an establishment and verification of authority.
After cleaning out the scum across the Seven Cities and integrating all the syndicates, the rabid dog unleashed by Mr. Ji was going to use this birthday banquet to genuinely cement his authority and status.
Demonstrate power, bare ambition, seize authority, and make his declaration!
This was Ling Shuo's first step toward the position of Dragon Head.
—From this day forth, in all Seven Cities, I have the final say on every piece of business that shuns the light of day!
Chapter 852