Protection

Boss Lu returned to the bookhouse to fight Xiao Qianshou. To decide victory and defeat, and to settle life and death. Boss Lu had made up his mind, but Xiao Qianshou had no desire to fight. He knew what the Eight Dou Scholar was made of. With his current strength, Xiao Qianshou didn't stand the slightest chance of winning a head-on confrontation with Boss Lu. His mission had merely been to lure Boss Lu back to the bookhouse. Now that the mission was accomplished, Xiao Qianshou darted toward the door. With a flick of Boss Lu's hand, the bookhouse's main doors slammed shut. Over a hundred characters for "lock" had been inscribed upon them, each one turning into an actual lock, sealing the doors and windows tight without a single seam. Books on the shelves leaped into the air, and tens of thousands of written words surged like ocean waves, swiftly encircling Xiao Qianshou. This was a tactic Boss Lu had prepared specifically for Xiao Qianshou. The best way to deal with Xiao Qianshou was to leave him absolutely no room to maneuver. Though in a disadvantageous position, Xiao Qianshou did not panic. Daring to break into the Lu Family Bookhouse meant he had naturally come prepared. With a flick of his right hand, his sleeve cuff expanded to over two feet wide. A whirlwind whipped up, sweeping a massive swarm of characters into his sleeve. This was the Thief Cultivator skill Rivers and Mountains in the Sleeve. Originally intended for stashing stolen goods, it was now proving tremendously useful in combat. This was precisely why figures at the founding ancestor and grandmaster levels were the hardest to deal with: they had thoroughly mastered the techniques of their pathways and could constantly produce unexpected counters. Realizing words alone wouldn't subdue Xiao Qianshou, Boss Lu shifted his approach. He fished a short sword out of his sleeve, gripped it in his right hand, and thrust straight at Xiao Qianshou's face. Xiao Qianshou was taken aback. "Zhou Badou, you're resorting to martial arts now?" Boss Lu had decent moves. The thrust was swift and precise; even a Martial Cultivator above the clouds might not have parried it. The sword itself was exceptional too. Its blade radiated chilling sharpness, piercing the air with a shrill, screeching howl like weeping ghosts and howling wolves, lingering and piercing enough to make even the well-traveled Xiao Qianshou shiver. Yet relying on such a straightforward attack against the old ancestor of Thief Cultivators seemed almost laughably naive. Xiao Qianshou twitched two fingers in a pinching motion, and the blade in Boss Lu's hand transferred into Xiao Qianshou's grip in the blink of an eye. "Zhou Badou, you're a scholar, what are you doing brandishing a sword at me? This blade looks decent enough—it's a real waste in your hands. I'll take it off your hands for—" Before he could finish, the short sword dissolved into ink. It blackened Xiao Qianshou's palm first, then climbed onto his wrist and spread rapidly toward his elbow. Xiao Qianshou recoiled in shock. "Old Zhou, this is unfair! I stole from you in good faith, and you cheat me with a fake!" The sword was indeed fake. It looked as though it had been pulled from his sleeve, but in truth, Boss Lu had simply used his thumb to write the character for "sword" in his palm, conjuring it into being. The chilling sharpness of the blade came from the *Embroidered Frost Collection* Boss Lu carried on him—the three characters on its cover had been spouting frost and snow at Xiao Qianshou the entire time. The piercing screech of breaking air was caused by two volumes of Boss Lu's own work, *Outcries*, sitting on the bookshelf. The two books had been shouting at Xiao Qianshou non-stop, tricking him into believing it was the sound of wind breaking. The ghost-crying and wolf-howling came from a set of *Scrolls of a Hundred Ghosts* on the adjacent shelf. Over a hundred ghosts and monsters inside, along with several wolf demons, wept and howled in unison to provide Boss Lu with background audio. Through this elaborate setup, a single ink sword had fooled Xiao Qianshou into stealing it as if it were a genuine weapon. Xiao Qianshou's wrist and palm were blackened with ink. Usually, there was no need to panic in such a situation—chopping the hand off would solve the problem. But Xiao Qianshou was no longer who he once was. Though he had gathered a few hands lately, their numbers were extremely limited. Could he bring himself to cut one off? If he couldn't bear to cut off his hand, he would have to wait for death. Xiao Qianshou didn't hesitate for a second: he swung a blade and severed his right hand. With Rivers and Mountains in the Sleeve no longer usable, Xiao Qianshou was once again besieged by characters. Just as his situation seemed completely beyond salvation, the door behind him swung open. Boss Lu froze. Amid such fierce combat, Xiao Qianshou hadn't forgotten to pick the locks. The hundreds, thousands of locks on the bookhouse door had been picked with effortless ease. "Old Zhou, days are long, until we meet again!" Xiao Qianshou slipped swiftly out of the swarm of characters and escaped the bookhouse. Boss Lu didn't pursue. He wasn't very familiar with the Outer States, and there were things he needed to sort through carefully. Aside from the magic box, he had also collected quite a few items from the Hundred Demons Workshop, which required tidying up. Sirens wailed without pause outside. Boss Lu returned to the bookshop and tidied the scattered books a bit. A police officer came by to inquire about the situation. Boss Lu offered a couple of perfunctory replies while unobtrusively collecting Xiao Qianshou's severed hand. "There are incidents tonight. Please try to stay indoors and don't go out." After leaving a few words of caution, the officer departed the bookshop. Boss Lu unfolded a city map and saw fires flickering across numerous locations. There truly were many incidents tonight. Boss Lu shut the bookshop doors, deciding not to wade into this muddy water for now. *** Shops closed one after another, and pedestrians grew scarce. Across the street, the barbecue shop run by a married couple had also lost all business. The owner stood on the sidewalk, took a look around, and turned to tell his wife, "Let's pack up!" His wife was reluctant. "Let's wait a bit longer. We haven't even earned enough for today's rent." "What's there to wait for? Didn't you hear them say something's going on tonight? There's not a soul on the street!" "What's going on?" "How would I know? Just pack up! Set up earlier tomorrow, and we'll make it all back!" The owner put out the fire. His wife tidied up grudgingly and pulled down the rolling shutter. After cleaning up a bit, the couple was just about to go to sleep when they suddenly heard banging on the door outside. The owner shouted, "Who is it? We're closed!" A child's voice came from outside: "Mister, I went out to eat with Daddy, and Mommy went to the bathroom. A stranger said he'd take me to buy toys. When I wouldn't go with him, he hit me and dragged me away. I barely managed to run away, but I can't find Mommy, and he's coming back, I don't know what to do..." The more anxious the child grew, the more incoherent the words became. "Good heavens, it's a child trafficker! Child, don't be scared, come in here to Uncle!" Before his wife could ask anything, the shop owner had already raised the rolling shutter. The shutter had only risen a few dozen centimeters, and the inner glass door wasn't even unlocked yet, when the couple noticed that the person standing outside wasn't a child. Just judging by the size of the leather shoes, they couldn't belong to a kid. The person crouched down and grinned at the couple. He was a man in his twenties. The owner gasped in fright and moved to lower the shutter, but the young man rolled forward, crashed through the glass door, and burst inside. The man chuckled. "Mister, you're such a good person. My stomach's empty. Could you fix me something to eat?" The owner turned, grabbed a stove poker, and pointed it at the man, shouting, "Get the hell out!" The man kept smiling. "What's the matter, Mister? You don't want to be a good person anymore?" "I told you to get out!" The owner brandished the poker, putting up a posture. Anyone who knew anything could tell his stance was just for intimidation; he wouldn't dare strike. The man across from him was not one to be intimidated. Reaching out, he snatched the stove poker and hooked it straight into the owner's shoulder. The agony was excruciating; the owner stumbled and collapsed to the floor. The man planted a foot on the owner's face and looked back at his wife. The wife held her phone, about to dial the police, when the man swung the poker, piercing right through her palm. The phone dropped to the ground. With his foot on the owner's head, the man ground his toe twice, looking down at him. "Mister, I'm still hungry. Grill me some skewers!" The owner's cheekbone was crushed underfoot. He tried to struggle up, but his head felt pinned to the floor, incapable of moving an inch. "You run a barbecue place, but instead of grilling skewers, what are you keeping all these skewers for?" The man grabbed a handful of metal skewers and hammered them one by one into the owner's body. Each skewer pierced straight through and embedded deeply into the floor. The man smiled. "Looks like it doesn't hurt enough yet. If it hurt, you'd be screaming." The owner's eyes were bloodshot, his whole body trembling violently, yet not a sound came from his lips. His throat felt choked with sand, impossible to swallow and impossible to spit out. His wife screamed. Overwhelmed with terror, she let out a shriek. The man turned his eyes to the owner and chuckled. "Mister, I haven't taken a wife yet. Could you lend me Auntie for a bit?" The owner wanted to fight with his life, but he was pinned to the floor, unable to budge. The wife tried to run, but the man flicked a skewer, pinning her to the wall. She wailed in agonizing terror. "Why run? Why make yourself suffer?" The man pinched the wife's cheek. "Put some more back into it, scream louder! Draw a few more people to watch our show! Your business will definitely be booming in the future!" The wife shrieked with all her might. The owner trembled uncontrollably. "Time for the good show to start." The man smiled and switched on the barbecue shop's sign lightbox. The lightbox illuminated, but the two characters for "Barbecue" were nowhere to be seen. Boss Lu looked across the street and shook his head. "They say Puluo Province is ruthless, but the Outer States certainly have no shortage of beasts." Inside the barbecue shop, the man was about to have his way with the wife. "How did you even make this sign? It doesn't even have the words 'Barbecue.' How do you do business?" Touching the woman's face, the man suddenly felt warmth spread down inside his trouser leg. Did he wet himself? Pissed his pants in fear? It would be normal for them to piss their pants in fear, but the man couldn't fathom why he would have pissed himself. And the texture wasn't right—urine wasn't this sticky. Urine shouldn't... be red, either... The man stumbled back several paces and collapsed to the floor. A clump of flesh dropped out of his trouser leg. It fell off! That thing... actually fell off! In sheer terror and agony, the man shrieked at the top of his lungs, his trousers soaked in vivid crimson. Concerned he might bleed to death, Boss Lu had the character "burn" linger on his wound for a moment. Scorched smoke rose, accompanied by the man's unending screams. He had no idea who had cut him or who had cauterized him. He scooped up the piece that had fallen to the floor and tried to flee, but his knees buckled and he collapsed again. Gray smoke curled from his calves—the tendons in his legs had been cooked through. The man reached out to crawl toward the door, but his arms suddenly gave out, and he slammed flat to the floor. The tendons in his arms were cooked through too. The character for "burn" hovered around him, and the severed piece fell to the floor once more. Seeing how truly pitiful he was, Boss Lu didn't send the character "burn" over; instead, he dispatched the character "roast" to roast that piece thoroughly. Boss Lu acted out of pure kindness—once fully cooked, dipped in some salt and pepper, it would be ready to eat. Yet the man had no appetite for it. He wriggled his body toward the door. The skewers pinning the owner fell loose, pulled out by someone unknown. The owner pushed himself up slowly from the floor and raised the stove poker behind the crawling man. "D-don't..." The man cast a backward glance, frantically wriggling away. The skewers pinning the wife dropped away as well. She dialed the police. *** "A lot of people are calling the police tonight. I feel like there's definitely a connection behind it," Lightbulb put forward a bold hypothesis before Mijian and Zhong'er. Mijian rolled her eyes at Lightbulb. "Did you really need to say that? Anyone with eyes can see it!" Zhong'er said, "I think these people must belong to the same organization. Tonight's events are a planned, premeditated operation." Mijian nodded. "Now that's what I call a thorough analysis!" Lightbulb frowned. "Sister Mijian, is there any difference between what I said and what Zhong'er said?" "Can't you hear the difference yourself?" Mijian parked the car outside a residential compound. "Remember the location: Building Six, Room 1301. Once we're up there, handle the job cleanly and quickly. Let's try to catch the next shift. Director Shen said the harmonizing agents this time will be paid per head!" The Dark Star Bureau had divided the security team members into dozens of small squads and shared all incident information in the work group chat. Once each team finished its assigned task, they could assist other squads in completing theirs. Lightbulb sighed. "We're wasting all our time on the road. For the next gig, we have to pick the location carefully and try to arrive within half an hour." Zhong'er wasn't as optimistic. "So far, not a single squad has reported victory in the chat. These people aren't so easy to deal with. We must never underestimate our enemy." The three arrived at Building Six, where the police officer in charge briefed them on the situation. "The suspect disguised himself as an elderly man who lost his way, knocking on doors to ask for directions. Only the residents of Room 1301 opened up for him. There are six people in the family: two elderly parents, a couple, and two children. The entire household has been taken hostage by the suspect. "The suspect demands fifty million in ransom and a helicopter to allow him safe passage out of Yuezhou City." Lightbulb was utterly baffled. "Has this guy watched too many cop movies? A helicopter?" Zhong'er asked, "What is the suspect's special ability?" The officer replied, "His hand-to-hand combat skills are exceptional. Without any special weapons, he injured several of our officers." Lightbulb turned to Mijian. "Isn't that a textbook Martial Cultivator?" Mijian shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions. Many civilian dark-energy users don't fit into clear-cut professions." They arrived on the thirteenth floor. Standing in the hallway, Mijian caught voices coming from inside the apartment: "Made up your mind yet? Who's first?" As soon as the words fell, a chorus of crying rang out. "Not good! He's going to hurt the hostages!" The officer looked toward Mijian. Zhong'er asked, "Have you deployed snipers?" The officer shook his head. "We tried twice. The moment a sniper took position, he spotted them immediately. Every time he spotted one, a hostage got hurt." Zhong'er frowned. "This isn't an ordinary Brawler. He has the methods of a Peeker." Lightbulb nodded. "He might be a Peeping Cultivator, or he possesses a Peeping Cultivator magic treasure." The kidnapper's voice drifted out again: "Hurry up! I don't have time to dilly-dally with you!" A child's sobbing came from the apartment first. Then came an elderly person's shout: "Don't touch the child! I... I'll go." The officer had been right: the kidnapper was indeed about to harm the hostages. Mijian gave the order: "Move in immediately!" Before setting out, the three of them had already formed a tactic: Lightbulb would enter first to draw the suspect's attention; Zhong'er would provide backup to ensure the safety of Lightbulb and the hostages; and Mijian would employ binding techniques directly to subdue the suspect. Lightbulb crept toward the room, only for a plume of flame to suddenly burst through the doorway. *This guy knows Fire Cultivator skills too?* Startled, Lightbulb shook his head at Mijian. Fire Cultivators countered Oil Cultivators; Lightbulb was unsuited to be the first through the door. The elderly person's agonizing scream mingled with the child's crying. The kidnapper had struck—there was no time to adjust tactics. Zhong'er signaled that he would breach first. Brawlers were different from Martial Cultivators; Zhong'er needed suitable weapons to fight effectively, and in the current combat environment, the best weapon was undoubtedly a firearm. Gun in hand, Zhong'er charged into the room. The kidnapper was an elderly man around sixty, standing right behind a hostage. The hostage was covered in blood, bearing obvious cuts from sharp edges. The kidnapper held no weapon in his hands; even if he were a Martial Cultivator, what tool had he used to injure the hostage? Surely not his fingernails? Zhong'er had no time to ponder. He fired straight at the suspect. There were twelve rounds in the magazine. Zhong'er emptied it completely. All twelve bullets struck their target, three hitting the head. Blood streamed down the kidnapper's face, proving that bullets could at least damage him. Seizing the opportunity, Mijian hurled a fishing net, ensnaring the kidnapper dead center. This was specialized gear modified by the Dark Star Bureau for Mijian, effectively solving the problem of a Binder's combat range being too short. With the fishing net restraining the suspect, the mission was more than halfway successful. Lightbulb dashed into the room to help Zhong'er rescue the hostages, while Mijian prepared to draw a fishing net onto the suspect to guarantee binding strength. Ordinary people would find Mijian's logic hard to understand: the suspect was already bound by a fishing net, so why draw another one on him? This was related to the nature of a Binder's techniques. Inscribing intersecting crisscross net lines upon a suspect would form an invisible net. This was the technique with the strongest binding power, named "conceptual constraint." In Puluo Province, Binding Cultivators had a corresponding technique called "spinning a cocoon as a prison." For Mijian, if a net she drew had full strength, the nets made by the Dark Star Bureau had at most thirty percent. For safety's sake, she needed to add another layer of restraint onto the suspect. But before the three could get close, the suspect violently tore free from the net. From his palm, he produced a burst of raging flame that transformed into a fire dragon, darting and coiling around the three. Lightbulb dispelled his technique and beat a hasty retreat. Mijian was forced outside the doorway by the flames. Zhong'er braved the fire, lunging straight in front of the suspect, and stabbed a dagger toward the suspect's throat. Blood trickled from the suspect's throat, and his cheek twitched slightly. With this strike, Zhong'er felt the texture clearly: he had cut the other man's skin, but not penetrated the muscle beneath. Beneath the skin, there seemed to be a suit of armor concealed. The suspect swung an arm and aimed a slap at Zhong'er. What kind of fighting style was this? Zhong'er leaned back to dodge the palm, but his cheek was slashed by the man's fingernails. It was a severe wound, leaving Zhong'er's cheek flapping open. It really was fingernails! Fortunately, the opponent wasn't very agile; otherwise, Zhong'er would have lost his life. Poor agility meant the man was almost certainly not a Brawler. Zhong'er reloaded a magazine, preparing to fire again, when the suspect chopped downward toward his arm. Zhong'er pulled his hands back swiftly, evading the arm, but the barrel of the gun was sliced right off. This time, Zhong'er finally identified the opponent's pathway. A Blade Cultivator! A Severer! A Severer could use surrounding objects—or even parts of their own body—to create sharp edges. No wonder he had been able to break free of Mijian's fishing net. The Dark Star Bureau had a Severer named Geng Congyi, who had once carried out a mission alongside Li Qi. Zhong'er had seen his fighting style and understood the relevant skills of a Severer. Geng Congyi could forge blades across empty air, and could even sever an Artisan Cultivator's control over mechanisms. Could this suspect do that? He could! He launched a wave of invisible blades through thin air. Relying on his Brawler instincts, Zhong'er dodged with all his might, yet took two slashes on his body. Fortunately, neither slash struck a vital area, so they didn't impede Zhong'er too much. Taking advantage of the melee, Lightbulb and Mijian dashed into the room again. Lightbulb grabbed one hostage; an invisible blade grazed past his clothes without wounding him. Mijian tried to close in again to apply her binding technique, but a blade slashed her right arm, forcing her to retreat outside once more. Lightbulb slipped back inside and carried out another hostage. The kidnapper flung a fireball toward Lightbulb. Zhong'er lunged forward and snapped open his jacket, whipping up a fierce gust of wind that diverted the fireball and shielded Lightbulb. Lightbulb got out safely with the hostage, but Zhong'er was now in dire straits. Flapping a coat to whip up wind required wide, open movements. Before a Blade Cultivator, Zhong'er became a sitting duck. Two blades plunged into his belly, and another pierced his chest. Fighting with his life on the line, Zhong'er slashed his dagger across the suspect's eyes. Seizing the opening, Lightbulb extracted another child and dragged Zhong'er out of the room alongside him. Covered in blood, Zhong'er slumped against the wall. Mijian called the Dark Star Bureau for reinforcements and urged the police to dispatch an ambulance immediately—yet the Dark Star Bureau had no manpower left. Even if they had people, they would never arrive in time. Out of six hostages, three had been rescued, leaving the couple and one child still inside. The kidnapper roared, "You're finished! You've pissed me off! I'm going to burn them alive! I'll start with this little one!" He conjured a fireball in his palm and hoisted up the child from the floor. Lightbulb didn't dare charge in. Mijian was at a loss for a plan. Zhong'er pushed himself up from against the wall, pointed toward the room, and whispered, "I'll go... scatter the fire... you get the hostages." His mouth was filled with blood, his speech slurred. He was drenched in blood, unable even to stand steady. Lightbulb held him back. "Don't go back in! Stay right here, don't move—" "Protect." Zhong'er charged into the room without a shred of hesitation. Mijian rushed in behind him. Gritting his teeth, Lightbulb charged in as well. With the kidnapper holding a fireball, Lightbulb didn't dare activate his oil technique. He dragged the child's father toward the door. Zhong'er clamped onto the kidnapper's wrists in a desperate grapple. Mijian snatched the child away and carried him outside. Lightbulb charged back in, lifting the mother to flee. The mother's legs were like jelly, completely devoid of strength. Zhong'er had suffered an unknown number of cuts, on the verge of collapsing. Lightbulb activated his technique, gliding across the floor while dragging the mother. Mijian rushed back in to support them. The kidnapper chopped Zhong'er down with a strike of his hand. Just as the fireball was about to transform into a fire dragon, it suddenly snuffed out in his palm. Behind him, Li Banfeng had grabbed the kidnapper's head. Agony overwhelmed the kidnapper, his consciousness blurring, rendering him unable to use techniques for the moment. Upon emerging from Huahu Park, Li Banfeng had received the reports—every single incident across the entire city had been forwarded to him. Coming to the nearest residential compound, he had flown through the window into the apartment. The kidnapper was still thrashing. Li Banfeng gave a twist of his wrist, and the sound of cracking bone echoed from the kidnapper's skull. "Mijian, take Zhong'er to the hospital! Escort the hostages away!" Li Banfeng ordered. Mijian hurriedly scooped up Zhong'er. Li Banfeng looked down at the kidnapper. "Who ordered you to do this?" The kidnapper stayed silent. Li Banfeng applied more pressure, and the sound of cracking bone echoed once more. Unable to endure the torment, the kidnapper forced out through strained gasps, "It's our..." Right after those three words, the kidnapper's body detonated on the spot. There were things he could not speak aloud. Li Banfeng had seen this method before. "All civilization is fabricated"—the people of Snowflake Pu had been unable to utter Du Wenming's name. Tonight's turmoil was also linked to Du Wenming. These numerous cases were very likely spearheaded by Du Wenming, or by someone even higher up in the Hundred Demons Workshop. What was his objective in doing this? Li Banfeng checked his phone again. All key personnel of the Dark Star Bureau had deployed into the field. Could his target be the Dark Star Bureau headquarters? *** In an interrogation room inside the Dark Star Bureau, Geng Shunxi, a core member of the Hundred Demons Workshop, refused to confess. He had long been unable to withstand the oppressive aura of the Judge vessel, teetering on the verge of mental collapse. Several times he had started to speak, but after scanning the members of the interrogation team, he had chosen silence instead. Shen Jingye noticed something amiss. He dismissed everyone else from the interrogation room and shut off all surveillance equipment. Approaching Geng Shunxi, he lowered his voice. "Does your side have someone inside our bureau?" Geng Shunxi remained silent. Shen Jingye spoke again: "Are you afraid to tell the truth because you fear he'll kill you to keep you quiet?" Geng Shunxi lowered his voice. "It's not just killing me. If the mole among you leaks this, they'll kill my entire family." "Who are 'they'?" "I can't say. If I say it, I die." "They placed a curse on you, so there are certain names you can't speak aloud, right?" Geng Shunxi nodded. "There must be some things you can speak of. You're a core member. If you can't mention anything at all, what use are you?" Geng Shunxi fell silent for a moment before saying, "Our Hundred Demons Workshop has members across the entire globe..." Shen Jingye shook his head. "I already know that. It's just you and me here. Tell me something I don't know. As long as what you say has value, I can guarantee your safety." Geng Shunxi lowered his voice and uttered a sentence: "We have controllable magnetic storm weapons." "What kind of thing is that?" "Weapons that can destroy massive amounts of communication equipment in a short time. We have already mastered the technology. The first target is Yuezhou."