Chapter 36 The Courier

He also ordered a bottle of red wine and sipped it slowly until after eight o’clock. Afterward, he wandered into the bathhouse on the first floor, dawdling there until past ten.

The spending at the Eastern Club was indeed a bit steep—just by himself, he’d already run up a bill of over three thousand. Still, recalling how Xu Chen had specifically mentioned the safe, Chu Tianfeng set his mind at ease. Three thousand—or even thirty thousand—was nothing to him. He refused to believe that a sub-branch’s safe wouldn’t even contain such a paltry sum.

While in the bathhouse, he intentionally wandered around, all the while sending his spiritual sense through the floors to investigate the situation in the basement.

He found that, unlike the Yan Society's Hangzhou sub-branch, the basement here contained nothing but the engine room, a few security guards’ dormitories, and a duty room. In one of the duty rooms, a man was locked inside.

When he left the bathhouse, Chu Tianfeng took the elevator to the fifth floor, again pretending to look for a restroom, and sent his spiritual sense through the floor to check the sixth.

A faint smile played on his lips. Seizing a moment when no one was watching, he slipped into the stairwell. Upon discovering surveillance cameras there, he simply used his true energy to blast them apart.

As soon as he reached the sixth floor, he spotted two burly men standing like sentinels at the elevator lobby.

The elevator lobby was very close to the stairwell exit; naturally, the two hulking men noticed him as well.

“Who are you?” one of them barked.

“Delivery,” Chu Tianfeng replied, raising his hand. Several icy spikes shot forward, aimed straight at them.

Startled, both men tried to leap back.

But Chu Tianfeng’s ice spikes were far too fast—how could two mere warriors at the Mingjin stage hope to dodge them?

A sizzling sound erupted as both were nearly turned into human porcupines, their bodies riddled with bloody holes, blood spraying everywhere—a gruesome sight.

One of them let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Chu Tianfeng darted into the corridor, swift as the wind.

He had already probed the sixth floor from the fifth, discovering a large office with a grand desk—and a powerful figure seated there.

It was a man in his early forties, with sword-like brows and a face as sharply chiseled as if carved from stone—alert and capable.

Chu Tianfeng guessed he must be Liu Zuo, the head of the Yan Society’s Hangzhou branch—his very target tonight.

He sped along the corridor, flashing past office doors, heading straight for the large office.

Bang!

Suddenly, a door on the right burst open, a dark head poking out.

Without even glancing, Chu Tianfeng flicked his right hand, launching a volley of ice spikes.

That man, likely roused by the commotion in the corridor, had only just poked his head out to investigate—only to see a row of glimmering objects hurtling toward him.

He tried to retreat, tried to shout, but he was too close; before he could even open his mouth, the spikes buried themselves in his body with a hiss.

Chu Tianfeng didn’t pause. He knew that the large office contained an elevator leading directly to the basement.

Thud!

The man who’d poked his head out collapsed to the floor.

Bang!

Chu Tianfeng kicked the office door clean off its hinges.

“Who are you?” The middle-aged man stood, fear flickering in his eyes.

“Your killer,” Chu Tianfeng sneered coldly.

After being hunted by the Yan Society, he finally had a chance to strike back tonight. A sense of satisfaction swelled within him.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” The man stepped out from behind his desk.

“The Yan Society’s president, Sima Lin?” Chu Tianfeng mocked.

“Hmph! Arrogant!” The man’s form blurred as he swung a fist the size of a rice bowl toward Chu Tianfeng with a whoosh.

Good! Chu Tianfeng relished this kind of martial combat—fist against flesh, exhilarating and direct.

This man was only at the mid-stage of Huajin. Chu Tianfeng had no fear whatsoever.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to match fists directly. He preferred his fist to strike the man’s chest or back, not his fist.

Employing Windrider Technique, Chu Tianfeng became a grey blur, veering aside and driving a punch toward the man’s lower waist.

Knowing his opponent’s cultivation, Chu Tianfeng realized it wouldn’t be easy to take him down without magic.

The middle-aged man hadn’t expected such speed. Once his punch was launched, he couldn’t withdraw in time, so he shifted his fist low, channeling all his strength into his lower waist.

Thud!

Chu Tianfeng’s right fist landed squarely on the man’s lower waist, sending him flying.

Smash!

The man crashed into the desk, reducing it to splinters. He collapsed amid the wreckage, blood spurting from his mouth.

Strike while the iron is hot!

Chu Tianfeng gave him no chance to recover. With a flick, another volley of ice spikes shot forth.

The man, though badly injured, reacted quickly and rolled aside, dodging the spikes before regaining his feet.

“You—” he began, only to see another wave of spikes streaking toward him.

He could have cursed Chu Tianfeng’s entire family—no chance to speak, the attacks relentless and unending, like an animal!

This second barrage was double the first in number.

The man had misjudged Chu Tianfeng; he would have allowed him to speak—after taking him down first.

Faced with a hailstorm of ice spikes, the man’s strength ebbed. He dodged most, but some still pierced his flesh.

From his lower abdomen to his right leg, his body was riddled with gaping wounds, blood gushing out.

Swish!

Chu Tianfeng flashed forward, sealing several of the man’s vital points before he collapsed.

Despair clouded the man’s eyes as he stared blankly at Chu Tianfeng.

“Peak Huajin cultivation?” he asked dully.

“Something like that.” Chu Tianfeng raised a brow. “Name and rank.”

In truth, he wasn’t at the peak of Huajin, but he didn’t care to clarify.

“Fu Kaishan, inspector of the main hall,” the man sighed. He was two minor stages below his opponent—no shame in losing.

“What?” Chu Tianfeng was stunned. “You’re not Liu Zuo, the Hangzhou branch head?”

“You—” Fu Kaishan was even more surprised. “You’re here to kill Liu?”

“Not a pleasant experience being the scapegoat, is it?” Chu Tianfeng shrugged. “Where is Liu Zuo?”

“You’re out of luck,” Fu Kaishan replied wryly. “Liu left for Thousand Birds Lake with his men early this morning. Was it you who killed Xu Chen?”

“Yes.” Chu Tianfeng understood—Liu had gone to investigate Xu Chen’s death, and they’d just missed one another.

“Are you Chu Tianfeng, or…?” Fu Kaishan ventured.

Chu Tianfeng didn’t answer. A great fireball answered for him.

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded outside—the reinforcements had arrived.

Chu Tianfeng’s blood boiled. He was here to make a statement; there was no need for courtesy.

He flashed to the doorway, both hands flicking out volley after volley of ice spikes.

There were about a dozen men in the corridor, most brandishing machetes, some even wielding guns.

Having once been shot, Chu Tianfeng had learned caution. He didn’t know if his current cultivation could withstand bullets and wasn’t about to give them the chance.

Screams rang out, gunshots echoed, bodies thudded to the floor.

Unmoved, Chu Tianfeng continued his relentless assault.

The screams and crashes continued until the corridor was littered with corpses, blood soaking the floor.

Chu Tianfeng smiled faintly and returned to the large office.

Fu Kaishan’s corpse had already been reduced to ashes, the fire still burning, igniting the carpet.

Chu Tianfeng quickly recalled the fireball and sent forth a water sphere, dousing the last flames.

The desk was destroyed, papers and documents scattered everywhere.

Stepping over the mess, Chu Tianfeng approached a row of bookshelves. He gently opened a cabinet door, found several books, and, moving them aside, revealed the safe.

With a knowing smile, he conjured true fire, carefully burning a large hole in the safe door before using his true energy to pry it open.

The safe was a generous size, but inside was nothing but a large chunk of metal, a jade slip, and some jewelry—not a single coin!

Embarrassment was written all over Chu Tianfeng’s face.

Who had said that outlaws liked to stash piles of cash in their safes?

Who had said they liked to sleep on their money?

Frustrated but helpless, Chu Tianfeng could only scoop up the jewelry and stuff it all into his pouch.

He then picked up the chunk of metal, as big as a hoe, and swept it with his spiritual sense.

Hmm?

Mithril?

He could hardly believe it; he checked again, more carefully.

It was true! This unremarkable lump was genuine mithril!

Mithril! The perfect material for forging high-grade flying swords!

On Blue Moon Star, mithril wasn’t exactly rare, but here on Earth, where cultivation resources were scarce, finding such a large piece was like striking gold. Chu Tianfeng was elated.

Of course, mithril alone wasn’t enough; flying swords required other materials as well. Still, if he could find mithril, he was confident he could find the others.

Having found mithril, Chu Tianfeng’s mood brightened, and his hatred for the Yan Society diminished by ten percent.

As for the jade slip, he sensed a trace of true energy within, with the number “109” carved on the outside—likely a token or certificate. Chu Tianfeng pocketed it as well.

He then left the office, walked down the corridor, and took the elevator to the basement.

By now, either the upper management of the Yan Society was dead or had fled, while the guests remained oblivious, merrily continuing their entertainments.

Chu Tianfeng entered the surveillance room and destroyed all the monitoring equipment.

As he was about to leave, he suddenly remembered the man locked in the duty room. As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend—since the Yan Society had locked him up, he was likely their enemy. There was no harm in lending a hand.

Chu Tianfeng entered the duty room and approached the man.

The man’s face was bruised and swollen, but it was clear he was a young man, and not lacking in cultivation—he was at the peak of Anjin.

His clothes were in tatters, hands cuffed behind the chair, but his expression remained calm.

Seeing Chu Tianfeng enter, the young man’s face betrayed no reaction; he didn’t even look at him directly.

“Who are you? Why are you imprisoned here?” Chu Tianfeng asked.

A faint smile touched the young man’s lips, but he ignored Chu Tianfeng.

“Almost everyone from the Yan Society is dead. The police will likely arrive soon. If you don’t want to stay here any longer, you’d better tell me honestly.”

Chu Tianfeng folded his arms and watched him with interest.

“What?” The youth’s eyes widened. “Impossible! Don’t try to trick me.”

“Suit yourself. I don’t have time to waste,” Chu Tianfeng said, turning to leave.

He was willing to help, but if the man didn’t want it, he wasn’t about to beg.

“Wait,” the young man said hurriedly. “Is what you said true?”

“Believe it or not.” Chu Tianfeng paused.

“All right, I believe you.” The young man finally relented. “I’m Long Fei, of the Long family.”

“Long family?” Chu Tianfeng was puzzled. “Time is short—get to the point.”

“I came last night, played on the fourth floor for about an hour, and lost over a million. Dissatisfied, I watched the dealer and discovered they were cheating. When I asked for my money back at the counter, not only did they refuse, they beat me up and locked me in here,” Long Fei said bitterly.

Seeing no deception, Chu Tianfeng circled behind him and used true fire to burn through the handcuffs.

Freed, Long Fei leapt up. “Senior, may I ask your name?”

Chu Tianfeng smiled. “Don’t call me senior. I’ve altered my face; we’re about the same age.”

“Then, benefactor, may I know your name?” Long Fei cupped his fists.

“Uh.” Chu Tianfeng thought for a moment, then fabricated a name. “Lin Feng.”