Fearless

Though Chen Chuan's tone was calm, it carried immense force. Every person present could clearly sense the unshakable strength and resolve radiating from it. "Heh..." Wei Jun wore a regretful expression and patted the metal railing. "Is that so?" He suddenly chuckled. "Did you know? Shen Zheng died right here—yes, in this very workshop. Maybe you already knew that before coming, but do you know how he died? "Back then, we tracked down Shen Zheng's biological sister. They had been separated for five years, yet it was thanks to our kindness that they were reunited right here. You're probably thinking I used his sister's life to blackmail him? No, not at all. That would be far too crude. We simply wanted his sister to see with her own eyes what happens to those who oppose us. And you..." His gaze fell. "You'll find out soon enough. You're about to experience everything he experienced back then." With that, he snapped his fingers. At that exact moment, a series of dull thuds sounded as the surrounding spotlights all snapped shut. Across the workshop, lights mounted in the corners and overhead flickered on in unison, bathing the entire space in bright illumination. The surrounding scene instantly became clearly visible. Dense, strange patterns were painted across the walls and floor in various colors of paint. Interwoven among these designs were countless chaotic lines, drawn in hues that resembled scarlet rotten blood churned together with sewer sludge. They all extended outward from the walls, crisscrossing toward the floor and ceiling before finally converging right where Chen Chuan stood! "Three years ago, Shen Zheng stood in the exact same spot you're in now," Wei Jun's voice echoed through the cavernous workshop. The Mutual Aid Society members lining both sides couldn't help looking down, visibly anticipating what was about to unfold. These patterns originated from an esoteric ritual of the "Two-Faced Esoteric Cult"—or more precisely, a ritual used to command an urban legend known as the Two-Faced Heart Monster and amplify its powers. Once the ritual was activated, anyone standing upon its markings would be affected. The entire floor of the workshop was now covered in these ritual patterns; the moment someone stepped inside, they were brought within the ritual's domain, allowing the urban legend to be triggered at any time. Yet standing upon the very center pattern undoubtedly yielded the greatest effect. Jiang Wei had earlier suggested using the spotlights to carve out a path and force him toward that exact position—a suggestion that had clearly succeeded. Once the Two-Faced Heart Monster locked onto a target, it would latch onto them, producing two effects. First, no external attack would inflict any actual injury, though the pain and agony would not be diminished in the slightest. Second, any damage produced by attacks unleashed by the possessed target would ultimately be suffered by the target themselves. Furthermore, under the stimulation of the monster and the external ritual, the victim's mind would continuously conjure visions of whatever they feared and worried about most, driving them to ceaselessly attack the illusory enemies before their eyes. Shen Zheng had been a formidable fighter back then, but what of it? They had brought his sister here precisely to sow tension and worry in his heart. And the more anxious he grew, the more violent the hallucinations became. What Shen Zheng saw at that time had surely been his loved ones right within arm's reach—his sister, his friends, his teachers, and everyone he knew—falling victim to all manner of violence and torment, crying out for him to save them. In that state, he could only strike out with everything he had, desperate to protect all that he held dear. Yet the harder he fought, the worse his injuries became, because every blow and every ounce of damage rebounded onto him. Meanwhile, everyone in the Mutual Aid Society had watched like spectators at a monkey show as he repeatedly inflicted harm upon himself. One by one, they stepped forward to provoke him, mock him, and goad him, watching him strike back again and yet remain completely helpless against them. In the end, he had been toyed with until he died. And now, the outcome would be no different. Yet after waiting a moment, someone looked down and noticed Chen Chuan standing motionless. Confused, they asked, "Why isn't he moving?" "Yeah, why isn't he doing anything? Did something go wrong with the ritual?" Wei Jun pondered for a second and quickly understood. He gave a chuckle. "The kid probably doesn't have anyone he cares about. People like that are less susceptible to internal influence. But that doesn't matter. Just a little external stimulation will pit him against his own hallucinations, and then the show begins. Who's first?" "Me first!" Shao Xiaobie shouted eagerly. Clutching a steel pipe, he trotted excitedly down the metal stairs. The other Mutual Aid Society members watched with great interest, though some seemed dissatisfied that he was— Wei Jun smiled and raised his voice. "No rush. There's enough for everyone. You'll all get your turn." Swinging the steel pipe, Shao Xiaobie walked up to Chen Chuan. He first raised a hand toward the spectators behind him, then gripped the pipe with both hands, mockingly lining up a few swings at Chen Chuan's head. Then he raised it high with a sudden heave. Yet just as he was about to swing it down with all his might— *Bang!* A fist smashed straight in from the front. Shao Xiaobie's head burst apart instantly, spraying flesh, brain matter, and shattered bone backward. The headless corpse swayed twice while still clutching the steel pipe, then crashed onto the floor with a dull thud as the pipe clattered and rolled away. The laughter, jeering, and cheering in the arena cut off abruptly. Chen Chuan slowly raised a hand, resting it on his shoulder. His fingers clamped down, seeming to grip an invisible layer of something. Then the muscles in his arm swelled as he slowly pulled outward. As he moved, everyone present could see a near-transparent monster with two faces being dragged slowly off the surface of his body! The thing writhed and squirmed in his grasp, struggling to break free, but all its efforts were entirely useless against his iron grip. Finally, with a faint tearing sound like ripping cloth, the entity was peeled entirely away from his body. Chen Chuan watched the monster thrash and flail, its two faces still contorting into threats and mocking sneers, and hurled it to the ground. He stepped firmly down onto it. With a squelch like crushing a rotten pustule, it burst apart with a sharp *pop*, dissolving into wisps of smoke that drifted away from beneath his foot. Before coming here, he had reviewed numerous case files and consulted Bureau Director Lei, allowing him to deduce the general cause of Shen Zheng's death and prepare accordingly. Even now, he did not know what this thing actually did, nor did he need to know, because as long as— The Mutual Aid Society members looked on, dumbfounded. They had come today because Wei Jun promised them a good show. They had absolute confidence in the esoteric ritual. How strong had Shen Zheng been in the past? Hadn't he still died under this very ritual? That example had proven the method reliable and effective. What they had looked forward to was tormenting this person who refused their goodwill and dared cross the line. Yet now, the outcome seemed rather different. Chen Chuan looked up, his gaze sweeping over Wei Jun and the other Mutual Aid Society members. "Did you think you were the ones who brought me here?" He gave a faint smile. "The truth is, I was the one who wanted to find you." Wei Jun finally realized how wrong things were. He had still clung to a shred of hope, but hearing Chen Chuan's words, he knew the ritual had completely failed. Terror and furious panic surged in his chest. Scrambling backward, he screamed, "Fire! Kill him!" Across the steel platforms and catwalks, guards raised their guns. But on the left side, some had barely made the motion when severed wrists and firearms fell away from their bodies. Their limbs looked as though a razor-sharp blade had sliced cleanly through them, leaving smooth, even wounds. At the sight of this, the men froze in stunned disbelief. And where none of them could see, right where they had raised their weapons, crisscrossed countless slender threads of spider silk invisible to the naked eye. When Chen Chuan entered earlier, he had set down the crate containing the Tayana combat spider, allowing it to slip into the workshop under the cover of the shadows. This spider could secrete a high-strength mutated silk. If a human body applied even the slightest force against it, it would be sliced cleanly through. In ambush scenarios, a combat spider could often dispatch targets without a sound. Yet this was not the combat spider's primary means of attack. Specially crafted blades were embedded into its back, abdomen, and eight legs, and its crawling and leaping speed far exceeded the reaction time of an ordinary fighter. Once it closed the distance, it could effortlessly carve a person to pieces. Now, the combat spider darted swiftly across the walls and ceiling of the workshop, slicing apart security personnel one after another as they attempted to fire. Everywhere it passed, limbs were severed or heads went flying, accompanied by a chorus of wretched shrieks. In its command parameters, anyone making the motion of raising a gun to fire was— Yet as fast as the combat spider was, the workshop was vast and crowded, so it could only cover one section at a time, leaving the men in other areas free to shoot indiscriminately. Chen Chuan glanced at the gun barrels aimed at him and took a deep breath. Those muzzles seemed to track slowly toward him, shifting into alignment. He stepped forward. With every stride he took, fine cracks splintered outward across the painted floor beneath his boots. The guns finally erupted in flashes of fire, but every bullet slammed into the ground behind him. Meanwhile, the Xuejun Saber in his hand slid slowly from its sheath, baring its razor edge. He lunged forward in a sweeping arc, kicked off with tremendous force, and leaped onto an elevated platform. Facing the row of guards still firing downward, he leaned forward. The gleam of the Xuejun Saber flashed past in a blur, and an instant later, he was already standing at the far end of the walkway. The dozen or so men along the catwalk froze for a split second. The next moment, their bodies fell apart into severed limbs, tumbling down onto the steel plating below.