When Yang Shen and Nie Guanshan headed down, they did not forget to call out to Chen Chuan.
"Captain Chen, let's go."
After learning his post, whatever their private thoughts might have been, on the surface both maintained a certain courtesy toward him.
During a mission, external conversations were recorded through the boundary credential. The more polite they acted now, the better it proved that no friction existed between them; if anything went wrong with someone later, it could only be written off as a wartime accident rather than their responsibility.
As the three walked down from the building, a scattering of light rain began to fall from the sky. It was reddish rain that looked like diluted blood, carrying a faint hint of corrosiveness.
Caught in the downpour, the insects fluttered about erratically before dropping in vast sheets. Once on the ground, they were swiftly drenched by the continuing rain, left only to squirm and thrash before rotting away in the puddles. Soon, a faint stench of decomposition drifted through the air.
The raindrops that struck Yang Shen and Nie Guanshan were mostly blocked by their protective suits and wide-brimmed hats. Any that occasionally landed on bare skin were instantly shaken and flicked away, leaving not a trace behind.
It was the same for Chen Chuan. This wasn't really some esoteric technique; it was simply qi coursing to the extremities and jin discharging from the skin. Anyone whose mastery over their physical jin reached a certain depth could do it.
And as he was now, even if submerged in water, he could emerge without a single drop clinging to him, just like He Xiaoxing back then.
As the three walked over, the routed mercenaries were fleeing outward. Gunfire crackled incessantly from behind, however, and many were shot dead mid-stride by incoming bullets.
One of them took a round to the back of the head not far from them. With a dull thud, he crumpled before them, his skull nearly blasted apart, blood spilling into the rainwater until the two became indistinguishable.
Such obvious targets as the three of them did not escape the notice of the riflemen above. A flurry of bullets was already flying in their direction.
When rounds struck Chen Chuan and Nie Guanshan, they bounced off their protective gear without penetrating. As they advanced, the clink of spent rounds hitting the ground sounded intermittently beneath their feet.
Evidently realizing that targeting their torsos was useless, and with the mercenaries mostly gone, the gunfire opposite them paused for a moment, though the gun barrels remained trained steadily upon them.
As they drew closer, a heavy gunshot suddenly rang out, its echo reverberating between the plaza and the buildings.
With lightning speed, Yang Shen raised a hand and pinched his thumb and index finger together, catching a bullet mere inches from his brow.
Fast as the motion was, it came across as utterly casual. He rolled his fingers together, letting the mangled, flattened slug drop to the ground.
The three never broke their stride, continuing their slow, measured advance.
Standing in the rear, Fang Zhixin looked toward Chen Bitong with concern.
He knew his teacher could not have emerged from the duel with Old Hu unscathed; rapidly regenerating an arm, in particular, surely consumed a substantial amount of vital essence.
And for three people to be dispatched at a moment like this, they were obviously no easy adversaries.
When he noticed that one of the three was Chen Chuan, it brought him no relief. Having interacted with Chen Chuan extensively during the training course, he was well aware of the youth's strength and potential. Even if the other two were merely on par with him, they would still be formidable foes.
Farther back, Yu Lie also spotted Chen Chuan, his fists clenching involuntarily. For Chen Chuan to be included in a fight of this caliber was undeniable proof that the Defense Department recognized his combat prowess.
Yet here he was, relegated to watching from the sidelines.
As Chen Chuan and his companions drew near, static hissed in their ears from their boundary credentials; communication with the outside was clearly severed.
Chen Bitong's convoy had deployed numerous field interference organisms upon arrival. Only the people of the Temporary Special Committee possessed their own unique frequencies and specialized implants, making it difficult for these specially tuned interference organisms to affect them. Chen Chuan's group enjoyed no such protection and felt the impact the moment they stepped into range.
Without pausing, the three pushed forward until they halted about thirty meters away from Chen Bitong.
They had observed him closely earlier: though Chen Bitong shuttled back and forth through the fissure, he mostly stayed within a thirty-to-forty-meter radius, likely not exceeding fifty meters at most.
It wasn't necessarily that he couldn't venture farther, but doing so might forfeit the element of surprise or make the warning signs too obvious—a vulnerability he would deliberately avoid creating.
Standing at this distance gave them an advantageous launching point for an assault while allowing them to pull back and regroup should anything go awry. Above all, they had to ensure their own safety first.
For Yang Shen and Nie Guanshan, what they needed was a victory, not a suicide mission.
After coming to a halt, Chen Chuan first looked at Chen Bitong, then let his gaze drift past him toward the fissure behind and the mangled remains of the former imperial house's cavalry strewn across the ground.
Chen Bitong appeared to be preventing them from crossing over, yet he was deliberately keeping the fissure open. What was he trying to achieve?
As a fighter, Chen Chuan's first thought was that the man might be using this to push beyond to a higher threshold.
Yet upon further reflection, it seemed less straightforward than that.
With so little information available, it was impossible to divine the man's true aim.
Nie Guanshan drew a document from the pocket of his uniform, unfolded it, and held it out toward the front, saying gravely:
"Chen Bitong, we are here on the orders of the Government Affairs Department and the Defense Department. Cease all your actions immediately and return with us for investigation. If you refuse, we will resort to force."
He knew very well that under the current circumstances, there was no chance Chen Bitong would surrender or be persuaded by a few words. Even so, proper procedure had to be observed.
Chen Bitong looked at them, his eyes lingering briefly on Chen Chuan, and said in a deep voice, "You gentlemen need only see to your own duties."
Yang Shen spoke up then. "Chen Bitong, I hear you were once part of the pioneer team. That makes you my senior, though you're far more formidable than I am." He glanced at the spot where Old Hu had blown up. "At least I've never killed my own teammates."
Chen Bitong paid no heed to the sarcasm, only looking at him a little longer.
The rules in the past might have differed somewhat from those today, but anyone who made it into the pioneer team was no simple character—they were the elite of the elite.
Then he looked back at Chen Chuan. Before he could speak, Nie Guanshan cut in: "If you are unwilling to submit, then we have nothing more to say. We have our mission. Forgive us for what must follow."
Chen Bitong looked at him and said, "Then prepare yourselves as well. I will not be holding back."
Yang Shen chuckled and said with wry amusement, "Senior, if I were you, I'd worry about myself first. Oh, I hear you have a son? Your only son, right? You used to be a hero; he must admire you greatly. But once he finds out what you've done today, what will he think?"
Chen Bitong remained silent, offering no reply.
Seeing no reaction, Yang Shen gave a brief sneer, turned, and took the initiative to walk over to the left, taking up his position.
Nie Guanshan stood motionless, seemingly waiting for Chen Chuan's choice. Seeing this, Chen Chuan moved to the right, positioning himself on Chen Bitong's left flank.
Arranged like this, Nie Guanshan was the one facing Chen Bitong head-on, appearing as though he would bear the initial brunt of an attack. In an actual fight, however, which of them was struck first depended entirely on Chen Bitong's choice.
In Nie Guanshan and Yang Shen's eyes, Chen Bitong would inevitably target Chen Chuan first, regardless of where he stood.
They had not spoken earlier without purpose. By asserting their identities and backgrounds, they projected an aura of difficulty, while denying Chen Chuan any chance to speak. This subtly guided Chen Bitong to perceive Chen Chuan as having the lowest status and being the easiest breakthrough point.
Furthermore, they would deliberately leave Chen Bitong an opening later, allowing them to carry out their original plan.
Once all three were in position, Chen Chuan reached for the clasps of the protective overcoat he had worn on the way, unfastened it, and revealed the enforcement captain's military greatcoat beneath, tossing the outer coat aside.
Yang Shen spread his arms to his sides with fingers splayed. Slender white cords poured from his fingertips, lengthening continuously under the stimulation of his jin.
At the same time, his eyes narrowed, his lips moving as if chanting something—a low, rhythmic murmur.
Nie Guanshan stripped off his gloves to reveal a layer of gold metal gauntlets underneath, their striking surfaces studded with tiny spike-like protrusions.
A look of devout reverence appeared on his face as he slowly assumed a strange stance.
His upper body leaned slightly forward with knees bent, while his hands clasped together with interlocked fingers as if in worshipful salute, held level with his brow. His heels were raised, resting solely on the tips of his toes, giving the impression that he could leap forward at any moment.
Chen Bitong's gaze first fell on Yang Shen. "Coiling Dragon Jin... and..." He looked toward Nie Guanshan, his tone solemn. "The Immortal-Worshiping Stance."
What both men were using were secret jin techniques of the Old State Religion.
Coiling Dragon Jin excelled at entangling and binding opponents. Once snared by its jin cords, even Chen Bitong in his current state would find it impossible to break free.
The Immortal-Worshiping Stance, on the other hand, was a jin technique that balanced cultivation, offense, and defense, comprising just two deceptively simple motions.
When the fists clasped tightly with fingers interlocked, the body entered an extraordinarily formidable defensive posture, rendering the vast majority of jin strikes completely ineffective.
And once an incoming assault was repelled, both fists could immediately thrust outward in unison to strike the foe, said to possess the power to shatter any defense.
Moreover, because both techniques originated from the Old State Religion, performing the steps correctly naturally aligned with the faith's sacred rituals, unlocking seemingly unfathomable power. Thus, upon recognizing them, Chen Bitong's expression turned thoroughly grave.
Chapter 550