“Boss, the bucket is here!” a subordinate yelled, running over with a basin.
The middle-aged man stomped his feet again in fury. “Not enough, not enough! What kind of garbage waterproofing did those bastards use? My carpet! My oil paintings! Find those sons of bitches! I’m going to tear them apart and sell them for scraps!”
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The sudden chime of the doorbell startled them. They exchanged confused glances until the middle-aged man barked, “What are you staring at? It must be Sha Qiang. Go open the door!”
“Right away, boss!” the subordinate scrambled toward the entrance.
He glanced at the security monitor, but the rain outside was too heavy. Water had completely blurred the camera lens, leaving the screen a fuzzy mess.
He didn't think much of it. It was the middle of the night, so it had to be Sha Qiang and his partner. Besides, even if it were an outsider, they were human traffickers. Who were they supposed to be afraid of?
He pulled the door open. But just as he was about to call out Sha Qiang's name, he saw a man standing there in a transparent raincoat. Before he could sound the alarm, a dark shadow flashed before him, and a massive zhanmadao severed his neck in a clean sweep!
Spurt!
Blood erupted from the headless neck like a fountain.
Thud.
The head hit the floor, rolling several times across the marble tiles.
Yin Yang stepped over the blood and entered the villa.
Behind him, the rainwater defied gravity, flowing upward to gather and follow him inside.
As he stepped onto the stairs, a barrage of furious shouting echoed from above.
“The paintings! The paintings! Put them away safely! That one cost over two million! Dammit, if my furniture gets ruined by this water, I’ll kill those bastards!”
Yin Yang smiled as he strolled up to the second floor, looking at the human traffickers who were busy catching water.
“Hello there,” he said.
The sudden greeting froze everyone in the room. But they immediately noticed the fresh blood splattered across Yin Yang's raincoat—a souvenir from the front door.
They didn't hesitate. Drawing their pistols, they opened fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Deafening gunshots rang out through the villa.
Yet, the bullets ground to a sudden halt, suspended in midair right in front of Yin Yang, as if blocked by an invisible air wall.
“Why must we resort to violence the moment we meet?” Yin Yang sighed.
The traffickers were already swapping magazines, moving to shield the middle-aged man.
“Get out of the way!”
The middle-aged man shoved his subordinate aside and stepped forward, faint ripples of spirituality shimmering across his skin.
“Which path do you walk, friend?” he asked, glaring at Yin Yang. He didn't attack immediately.
Yin Yang offered a bright smile. “Me? Oh, I'm just a simple grain merchant. I've been a bit short on cash lately, so I was hoping to borrow some from you.”
The armed subordinates looked even grimmer. They were ruthless criminals who lived by the blade, yet someone was actually trying to shake them down? It was an absolute joke.
“How much do you need, brother? Name a number.”
The middle-aged man was seething with rage, but he wanted to de-escalate the situation until he could figure out his opponent's background. He had already memorized the intruder's face. Once this was over, he would report him to his superiors, and they would deal with him!
Yin Yang looked deeply touched. “You really are a good man. It's not much, really. I'm just short about one or two hundred million, plus thirty lives.”
Whoosh!
Before Yin Yang could even finish his sentence, the middle-aged man struck.
A spiritual bullet grazed Yin Yang's shoulder. Fortunately, Yin Yang dodged just in time, or the bullet would have pierced right through his skull.
The boss was decisive. Anyone who demanded a hundred million and dozens of lives was clearly not looking to negotiate. Since talk was useless, why waste breath?
As Yin Yang dodged, the pool of rainwater behind him seemed to come alive, surging toward the middle-aged man. His loyal subordinates threw themselves in the way, two of them unleashing spiritual fluctuations of their own.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged man aimed his shotgun at Yin Yang's head and pulled the trigger again.
Bang!
The second spiritual bullet streaked forward. But just before it could hit, a zhanmadao intercepted its path, slicing the bullet clean in half!
The blade-wielding ghost lunged forward. With a single slash, the heads of the armed thugs flew into the air.
With a second swing, the middle-aged man's arm—still clutching the shotgun—was severed. This was only because Yin Yang had held the ghost back; otherwise, the boss's head would have bid farewell to his neck as well.
A stream of water swept up, forming a liquid hand that delivered the severed arm and the shotgun to Yin Yang. He grabbed them, tossing the shotgun aside into the darkness, and casually walked over to the screaming boss with the severed arm in hand.
“Bite down on this,” Yin Yang said.
Terror filled the middle-aged man's eyes, but he tried to play tough. “Do you have any idea who I am? To dare cause trouble here, even if you—aaaaagh!”
His threat was cut short by a blood-curdling shriek that echoed throughout the entire villa.
Yin Yang glanced at the Flayed Ghost standing behind the man and sighed with pity. “Why won't you listen to good advice? If you don't bite down on something, what if you bite your tongue? Even if you don't, your teeth might not survive the clenching.”
As he spoke, the flowing water behind him spread through the villa. Before long, it returned, piling a heap of valuables behind him.
Hum—
With a low vibration in the air, the valuables vanished.
Yin Yang looked down at the middle-aged man, who had passed out from the pain. “Wake him up.”
The Flayed Ghost pressed its hand against the man's forehead.
The boss began to convulse violently, losing control of his bodily functions.
Yet, he woke up, drenched in cold sweat, staring blankly at Yin Yang with hollow eyes. The agonizing pain had completely shattered his cognitive faculties.
Yin Yang offered the severed arm once more. “Bite down.”
This time, the middle-aged man did not resist. He opened his mouth numbly.
But in the next second, a zhanmadao flashed across his face, splitting his skull in two.
Yin Yang turned around. Sure enough, a new phantom had materialized behind him.
Activating his Perception and Communion skills once again, he easily extracted all the details regarding the man's hidden assets and his superiors.
“Oh, quite the fat rat, aren't you?” Yin Yang muttered. “A clever rabbit has three burrows, but these guys take hiding things to a whole new level.”
Yin Yang looked at the blade-wielding ghost. The shadows around it rippled, and the Headless Ghost stepped out from the darkness.
“Go fetch the goods.”
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The two figures vanished into the rainy night.
Humming a cheerful tune, Yin Yang used the severed arm as a brush, dipping it in the trafficker's blood to write incantations on the floor.
Since joining the True Knowledge Society, he had learned quite a few interesting tricks. Now that he had fresh materials right in front of him, he naturally wanted to experiment.
The trafficking ring he had stumbled upon this time was quite substantial. He could dismantle them layer by layer, climbing all the way to the top. Just the thought of it made him giddy.
And judging by the financial state of these criminals, he might finally achieve financial freedom after this job.
With that pleasant thought in mind, Yin Yang's humming grew even more cheerful.
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