Interception

The assistant argued vehemently, "Those security personnel belong to Supervisor Zhao! They were assigned to him by the company—why can't he take them with him? If something happens to Supervisor Zhao, can you shoulder that responsibility?" Peregrine remained unmoved, his tone cold and unyielding. "That may be true inside Center City. But while carrying out a transport mission, every individual belongs to the convoy's defensive force—including Supervisor Zhao himself. However, considering his physical condition, I personally give my consent for him to turn back. "If Supervisor Zhao feels this arrangement is inappropriate, he is welcome to send a telegram to headquarters to appeal. As long as headquarters approves, I have no objections." Zhao Qian raised a hand to stop his assistant from arguing further. Sending telegrams back and forth would take too much time, and with his condition worsening by the minute, he could no longer afford any delay. He had to return as quickly as possible. Besides, with Chi Duan escorting him, they should be able to handle the vast majority of situations. The assistant immediately grasped his meaning. Swallowing his resentment toward Peregrine, he promptly had the private vehicle pull out of the convoy and stop behind it, allowing Chi Duan to get inside so he could better protect them. The entire transport convoy rolled forward amidst churning clouds of dust, while their vehicle turned around and headed back toward Center City. Yet some twenty minutes later, while they were still some distance from Center City, a figure suddenly appeared right in the middle of National Boulevard ahead. Chi Duan straightened up involuntarily and stared at that person. The scene felt eerily familiar—the same National Boulevard, the same imposing figure, and himself sitting inside a luxury car. For a moment, time seemed to blur. Zhao Qian was lying on the seat beside him. Sensing that something was wrong, he asked weakly, "What's happening?" Chi Duan sighed. "Someone is blocking the road. Mr. Zhao, do you remember when you sent me to Yangzhi last time? It was this very man who stopped me." The moment Zhao Qian heard those words, his expression changed drastically. He knew who Chi Duan was talking about. Against that man, even if he were currently uninjured, the two of them joining forces might not be a match for him. Chi Duan considered it for a moment, then said, "I can try to hold him off for a while. But Mr. Zhao, you'll have to travel the rest of the way on your own." Zhao Qian replied decisively, "That's the best choice." Over short distances, a fighter could move faster than a vehicle, and disabling a car's balance or mechanics was child's play for them. If no one stepped out to face him right now, that man could easily overturn the car. Trying to hide inside and avoid a fight was definitely not a good idea. Someone had to get down and hold him off. Chi Duan turned to the assistant. "Take good care of Mr. Zhao." With that, he pushed the door open and stepped out. Zhao Qian waited until the sound of his footsteps moved forward, then ordered in a low voice, "Drive!" The driver answered, hurriedly spinning the steering wheel aside and accelerating. Zhao Qian could not see the details outside, but he heard the sharp impacts of fists and kicks. As they passed a certain point, the car shuddered violently, almost as if it had hopped into the air, before slamming heavily back onto the pavement and steadying. The breathing of both the driver and the assistant grew ragged in an instant. Soon, however, the car drew away from the sounds of battle. At that moment, Zhao Qian felt the anomaly inside his body seem to fade. Regaining a bit of strength, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, handed it to the assistant, and instructed, "Send this telegram." This was a contingency he had prepared, though he didn't know if it would arrive in time. Once the assistant went to transmit the message, Zhao Qian drank some water and let himself drift into sleep. He needed rest to accelerate his recovery. Yet it felt as though he had only just closed his eyes when the vehicle's speed seemed to drop once again. Zhao Qian was exceedingly sensitive to such changes and snapped his eyes open. He noticed the assistant was stiff all over, trembling faintly. Realizing something was amiss, he said in a deep voice, "Help me up." The assistant hurriedly helped him into a sitting position. Zhao Qian looked ahead and saw a car parked on the roadside. A figure stood there holding a long saber, a reddish-brown scarf covering the lower half of his face, fluttering continuously in the wind. Drenched in cold sweat, the assistant said in a panic, "Supervisor, that's a State Administration Bureau uniform! What... what do we do?" Zhao Qian narrowed his eyes at the figure and said calmly, "Send another telegram. Transmit our current location and coordinates." The assistant hurriedly turned aside and put on the headset. Zhao Qian stared ahead. Although he had never seen Chen Chuan in person, he had seen his photographs. The instant he laid eyes on that figure, he instinctively knew that the person standing before him was Chen Chuan. After a brief hesitation, he ordered the driver, "Run him down!" "Yes, sir!" The driver stepped on the accelerator immediately, surging forward to ram straight into the person ahead. In truth, he had been thinking earlier that they should have just run down that fighter rather than bothering to get out of the car. Chen Chuan stood quietly, holding the Xuejun Saber. Although they were outside the city and he could not observe the urban legend tearing into its target the way he had with Youxing back then, he could sense from the feedback that the devastation had been considerable. And the return of this private car only proved that Zhao Qian had suffered grievous harm, leaving him no choice but to head back toward Center City. Everything was unfolding as he had anticipated. Now, it was time to bring this to an end. Watching the vehicle accelerate toward him, Chen Chuan did not dodge. Instead, he stepped forward, picking up speed. An instant before they were about to collide, he took a fierce stride to the left while executing a spin, sweeping his long saber in a flat horizontal slash right across the speeding car! Zhao Qian's pupils constricted, and he threw his torso backward violently. The upper section of the car was sheared open by the blade. As the edge sliced through the metal armor plating, a shower of bright sparks erupted, ripping from front to back until almost the entire roof was sliced clean through! As Chen Chuan crossed paths with the vehicle, he planted his feet and glanced back. The car careened down the road, wobbling erratically. Although Chen Chuan had deliberately spared the driver, the severed pillars and shattered windows left the man unable to keep the vehicle under steady control. Chen Chuan took another step forward. Everything around him abruptly slowed. His figure shot forward, weaving through the glass shards still suspended in midair, arriving behind the car in an instant. With a hard slam of his shoulder, the entire vehicle lost balance, spinning sideways across the asphalt until it crashed into the roadside guardrail with a loud thud, finally coming to a halt. Chen Chuan pressed down on the brim of his hat with one hand and slowly walked forward, saber in hand. Inside the car, the driver sat frozen in terror, watching the figure gradually approach in the right side-mirror. He finally understood why one had to stop when encountering someone on the road. Zhao Qian lay inside. His assistant, who hadn't fastened his seatbelt, had already been knocked unconscious by the collision. Zhao Qian, despite being gravely injured, had suffered no additional harm thanks to his physical resilience as a fighter. Reaching down swiftly, he pulled an insulated cooler from beneath the car seat. Opening it, a burst of frigid mist rolled out. He drew out a syringe, jammed it straight into his neck, and emptied all of the crimson fluid inside into his bloodstream. In an instant, a surge of power flooded his entire body, making him feel as though his vitality had returned. Taking a deep breath, he yanked a latch on the ceiling, and a two-handed longsword dropped down. Catching it, he kicked the car door open and climbed out. At first he appeared somewhat frail, but once outside, he gradually straightened his posture and walked straight toward Chen Chuan. He fixed his gaze on the bright, dark eyes above Chen Chuan's scarf. After a few paces, his figure suddenly vanished from the spot, reappearing abruptly right in front of Chen Chuan as he threw a punch straight at him. Yet before the fist was halfway to its mark, a hand caught it firmly. At the same time, the scabbard of the long saber whipped fiercely across his cheek, sending him flying backward through the air. Zhao Qian tried to adjust his posture midair, but his mutated tissues and internal organs had suffered devastating damage, leaving him unable to control his body. He crashed heavily onto the ground, rolled several times, and finally pushed himself up with one hand. Staring at Chen Chuan, he thought, *Did he take a stimulant...?* He had intended to rely on the speed of the third limit to overwhelm Chen Chuan in one go, yet Chen Chuan had actually matched his movements. He must have taken medicine beforehand. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, Zhao Qian spat out several broken teeth. He reached out and raised his sword. With a gentle flick, the blade sprang free from its side-slotted scabbard. Grasping the hilt with both hands, he held it beside his head, the blade leveled straight at Chen Chuan. As Chen Chuan walked forward, he lifted the Xuejun Saber. With a light sweep of his other hand, the scabbard flew off, and he advanced toward Zhao Qian with steady, measured strides. Waiting until Chen Chuan drew close, Zhao Qian pushed off the ground and surged forward. Halfway through, he dipped low, switching to a single-handed grip, and thrust the gleaming blade straight at Chen Chuan's face. Chen Chuan raised the saber with both hands in a probing parry, but Zhao Qian swiftly drew the blade back to evade the block, immediately following up with an extraordinarily swift lunging thrust. Yet Chen Chuan's blade work was seamless; his saber was already cutting downward. If the thrust continued on its trajectory, it would inevitably be intercepted halfway through. Zhao Qian shifted techniques once more. Snapping the hilt upward with both hands while twisting his waist and core, he sought to use that force to knock Chen Chuan's blade aside, intending to follow the momentum into an upward diagonal reverse slash from the opposite flank. If this strike landed, it would be enough to cleave Chen Chuan in two. Yet the moment their weapons collided, a surge of jin traveled straight through the blade. Any technique or kinetic flow required raw physical strength to sustain it; deprived of sufficient support from his mutated tissues, Zhao Qian simply lacked the power to withstand that force. Not only was he unable to execute his intended combination, but the longsword was knocked completely out of his grip. In the next heartbeat, a flash of blade light passed, and an icy chill pierced his chest. All strength instantly drained from his body as the borrowed vigor supplied by the drug dissipated at terrifying speed. Before he could collapse, however, he felt his field of vision slowly rising. Having run Zhao Qian through with a single thrust, Chen Chuan gripped the hilt with one hand and held his arm completely steady, slowly lifting the man into the air. Looking calmly at him, he asked, "Were you the one who took Senior Shen's younger sister back then? Where is she now?" Blood spilled continuously from the corners of Zhao Qian's mouth, trickling down his chin. He forced his lips into a malicious sneer. "So that's what you want to know? I'm not telling you. You'll never find her." Right then, Chen Chuan suddenly sensed something. He glanced behind him and discovered a person crouching atop the roadside guardrail. The newcomer wore protective goggles and a motorcycle helmet, with two slender blades mounted onto his arms, seemingly anchored by implants. As Chen Chuan turned to look at him, the man grinned, pulled down his goggles, stood upright, and looked at Zhao Qian. "You must be the employer, right? Am I late, or right on time?"