Conflict

"Nothing to do with you?" A savage expression surfaced on Zhuo Bao's face. "Just because you say it has nothing to do with you doesn't make it so. If we don't settle this matter today, you're not going anywhere." He pointed at Chen Chuan with the hand holding the cigarette. "If you can't find the killer, then you'll take the fall." Chen Chuan looked up at him. "So you're not going to be reasonable?" Zhuo Bao sneered, exuding a tyrannical contempt for everything. "Since when does the Blood Mark Gang need to be reasonable?" Chen Chuan hummed softly. "Honestly, this demeanor of yours matches my impression of gangsters much better." Zhuo Bao felt deeply irritated. The casual, composed expression Chen Chuan displayed made him feel that his intimidation and pressure had failed to produce any effect. The more it proved ineffective, the more he wanted to force Chen Chuan to bend to his will. "Do you think all I do is talk? Forget it..." He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a fierce drag. The remaining half instantly flared bright red, disintegrating into scattering sparks and ash. Raising his head, he glared at Chen Chuan with boundless malice. "You're the killer!" The burly chieftain showed a look of terror. "Damn it, the boss's affliction is acting up again!" Within the gang, Zhuo Bao was also known as the Mad Leopard. Normally he appeared quiet, but there was no telling when he might suddenly lose control of his temper. When he went berserk, he turned on friend and foe alike without distinction. Were it not for his extraordinary fighting prowess, no one in the gang could have tolerated him. The moment those words left his mouth, he lunged forward, hurtling aggressively toward Chen Chuan. His movement was so abrupt that the surrounding lackeys' vision blurred, his excessive speed leaving their eyes entirely unable to keep up. Immediately afterward, they heard a dull thud of impact. With that sound, they finally caught sight of Zhuo Bao's figure again. At this moment, he was suspended midair, his body still locked in a forward-surging, hovering posture, one hand bearing down ahead. Yet that hand—carrying his entire body's strength and momentum—was intercepted single-handedly by Chen Chuan. The latter stood firmly where he was, his feet not budging half an inch. Even though follow-up power continued to surge forward incessantly, it could not force him back in the slightest. Bulging veins now stood out across Zhuo Bao's cheeks—his internal mutated tissue driving out power. That hand of his pushed forward with all its might, trying to bowl the person opposite him over. Yet it was as if he had collided with an unyielding, thick wall; he could not budge it in the slightest. His elbow gradually bent, and his entire body trembled under the exertion. Chen Chuan's calm gaze met his. Zhuo Bao bared his teeth in a grin, but then the scene before his eyes abruptly shifted. The lackeys heard only an explosive bang as Zhuo Bao flew sideways through the air. The sofas and furnishings along his path were sent crashing aside like debris caught in a gale. Only then did Chen Chuan slowly lower the leg he had kicked out. Propelled by the force, Zhuo Bao slammed into the wall. Amid a heavy crash, his body remained pinned against it for a brief moment before rebounding outward, forcing him to stumble forward two steps. Yet he merely twitched his back and straightened up again. Raising his head to glare at Chen Chuan, he placed a hand on his neck and twisted it. He appeared largely unharmed, but his gaze grew increasingly dangerous, and the blood marks across his chest became glaringly vivid. After kicking Zhuo Bao away, Chen Chuan had taken a series of rapid breaths. Coordinating with the breathing technique remained the most efficient approach here. After a few breaths, the mutated tissue throughout his body awakened and became active. This time, instead of waiting for Zhuo Bao to come at him, he took the initiative and walked toward him. As one of the Blood Mark Gang's top fighters and one of its Five Claws, Zhuo Bao had clearly reached that stage as well. Yet that only meant the extent of bodily mutation had reached a certain phase; it could not serve as a measure of actual combat strength—especially since an ordinary person's mutation only strengthened a specific internal organ, far less comprehensive than his own. The Xuejun Saber in his hand was still sheathed, held in his left hand. As he approached Zhuo Bao, the latter lowered his stance, spreading his hands to either side as he stared fixedly at him. Zhuo Bao's torso rose and fell slightly with his breathing, as though buoyed by a force, giving the impression that with the slightest draw of breath, he could leap into flight. Chen Chuan kept his body still, merely flicking his wrist to sweep the Xuejun Saber diagonally upward. Even sheathed, backed by his strength, a strike would be enough to shatter sinew and bone. Zhuo Bao was already prepared. He hopped backward, only to see the saber's trajectory shift mid-motion, turning into a downward cleave. Before his feet touched the ground, he lightly drew up his legs, planting them one after the other against the wall behind him. At the same time, his body curled back, appearing almost plastered to the wall as he squinted, watching the Xuejun Saber slash down past his face. At that moment, the five fingers of his right hand snapped together into a knife-hand, and he kicked off with both legs, lunging out just as Chen Chuan's forward step and cleave missed. In that instant, with his toes pushing off the wall behind him, his body stretched out completely and his arm extended forward to its limit, resembling a leopard leaping through the air. Beneath his skin, something could be seen bulging and surging upward, starting from his heels, running through his legs and spine, and traveling all the way forward to the back of his hand. Simultaneously, the flesh there turned scalding red, and wisps of white vapor drifted from the tip of his knife-hand to either side, as though tearing through the air. Chen Chuan watched his movements dispassionately. Shifting his center of gravity backward, he withdrew his forward foot and swung his left hand upward, parrying with the Xuejun Saber toward the upper right. Using the momentum from the earlier cleave and this parry, the blade slid out from its scabbard by a short length. Just as Zhuo Bao's fingers were about to pierce his chest, a brilliant flash of saber light reflected across the living room, and a section of muscular forearm was severed beneath the edge, flying into the air! Having his forearm severed elicited no change in Zhuo Bao's expression; he didn't even blink. He maintained his forward-surging posture, his feet on the verge of leaving the wall, and at the split second before they parted, his toes pushed off in one final burst of force. As he accelerated forward, a breath surged up from his abdomen, expanding his entire chest as his mouth parted slightly. This breath was jin produced by his mutated lungs. At close range, once this exhale struck an opponent's face, it could shred their features, concuss their brain, and end the battle right then and there. Yet before he could exhale that breath, an incoming fist smashed brutally into his face. Amid the crack of teeth and bone, not only did his entire face cave in, but the breath was choked back inside. The tremendous force sent him rolling backward through the air. His body traced a parabolic arc, flying from near the room's doorway all the way to a distant corner before crashing heavily down. This time, a powerful burst of jin was forcefully channeled straight into his brain, instantly knocking him unconscious. His eyes rolled back into his head, his upper body face down while his lower body was twisted over, with one foot draped across an overturned sofa, leaving him splayed in an unnatural, grotesque posture. Seeing that Zhuo Bao had completely lost his ability to fight, Chen Chuan glanced at him and paid him no further attention. Zhuo Bao probably had something wrong in his head—clearly seeing that Chen Chuan was holding a blade, he had still dared to fight him barehanded. Armed combat and unarmed combat were completely different matters. Even against someone a cut above him in strength, if they fought him empty-handed, he could finish them off in just a few moves. He returned the Xuejun Saber to its scabbard, turned, and walked over to the door. Resting his hand on the doorknob, he gave it a gentle twist and opened the door. Yet before he could step out, the gangsters seemed to snap back to their senses. In an instinctive reaction, they drew their guns and aimed at his back. Chen Chuan paused. His gaze swept over them. Since they had brought out guns, there was nothing more to be said. He gave a push, and with a click, the door shut once more. At that very moment outside the arena, shrill whistles sounded in rapid succession. A large convoy of constabulary armored vehicles surrounded the Blood Mark Gang members on the plaza. Datuo-pattern rifles were leveled at everyone as the officers drove them toward the center of the square one by one, ordering them to lay down their weapons. The crowd parted as Wei Laohu strode out, his pistol already drawn. He roared, "Let's see any of you make a move! Listen up, every last one of you—anyone who dares bare their teeth gets put down!" "Sir!" came a unified response from behind him. Seeing this, the chieftains among the Blood Mark Gang hurriedly told their members to drop their weapons. Normally they might have relied on superior numbers to push back against the constabulary, but several chieftains had died in the past few days, and they had just engaged in heavy clashes with the Iron Chain Gang. They had no desire to fight the constabulary at a time like this; there was simply nothing in it for them. Wei Laohu looked over the scene, handed control here to a deputy squad leader, and led a team into the arena building. Once inside, everyone fanned out quickly, securing every exit and vantage point. He then led several officers upstairs. Seeing the shut door, he had his men cover both sides while he moved forward with his gun raised. Before he could kick the door open, however, it opened from within. Chen Chuan walked out casually with the Xuejun Saber in hand, his clothes neat and orderly. Wei Laohu immediately lowered his firearm, looked him over, and asked, "Xiao Chuan, are you all right?" Chen Chuan smiled faintly. "I'm fine, Uncle Wei." With that, he stepped aside. Wei Laohu walked to the doorway and peered inside. Catching sight of the scattered cartridge casings on the floor and bullet holes in the walls, his expression darkened. "These bastards pulled guns?" Chen Chuan nodded. "Yes." "Then there's nothing more to say. Even if they're all put down, it's fine." Wei Laohu looked at the dozen or so Blood Mark Gang members sprawled on the ground, his gaze chilling. Under Great Shun law, anyone without a weapons license who dared to use firearms within the city was subject to summary execution without question. This statute applied to everyone—even ordinary citizens incurred no guilt for killing them in self-defense, let alone someone like Chen Chuan, a Wuyi Class A student with a weapons license. "Right, where's Zhuo Bao?" Wei Laohu had received word before arriving that Zhuo Bao had come here as well. Combined with the phone call he had received from Chen Chuan, he had treated the matter with utmost gravity, requesting large reinforcements from the station. Chen Chuan gestured toward the corner. "Lying in the corner." Wei Laohu turned and looked over. Examining the figure carefully, he discovered that it really was Zhuo Bao. He was astonished. This was one of the Blood Mark Gang's Five Claws, notorious for being arrogant and troublesome, yet here he was in such an unsightly state. "Xiao Chuan, you did this? Good grief, you even took down Zhuo Bao! Is he dead?" Chen Chuan thought for a moment. "He probably still has a breath in him." "Well done, Xiao Chuan!" Wei Laohu stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "That punk Zhuo Bao has always been insufferably arrogant. Whenever he got into trouble, solicitors would bail him out." He chuckled coldly. "Let's see if I don't skin him alive this time!" Chen Chuan said, "Uncle Wei, since things are taken care of here, I'll be heading back." "Go on back!" Wei Laohu waved him off, then glanced down at the men on the floor and began rolling up his sleeves. "Get back and rest early. Leave the rest to your Uncle Wei."