strokinit Chapter 114 has just begun.
Chapter 114 has just begun.
Nie Lingfeng looked at the countless ghostly figures rushing towards him, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes.
"this one?"
He didn't even use any martial arts moves; he simply raised his right hand, spread his five fingers, and gently clenched them towards the hundreds of ghostly figures rushing towards him.
It's not a clenched fist, but a loose clench, like grasping at thin air.
"Disperse."
The sound was very soft, as soft as a sigh.
But the instant that word was uttered—
"Buzz—!!!"
An invisible pressure, seemingly from the primordial era, suddenly erupted from Nie Lingfeng! It was not the fluctuation of "Qi", nor the power of a technique, but a deeper pressure from the bloodline of a top predator!
The air in the room froze instantly! Time seemed to stand still! Those shrill, howling ghostly figures, before this oppressive force, melted away like snow under the scorching sun, instantly dissipating and turning into wisps of smoke! The frozen floor thawed rapidly, ice crystals melted, and moisture evaporated! The dim lights shone brightly again, and the flickering shadows returned to their stable state!
All evil spirits and chilling cold vanished before this supremely yang, powerful, and noble aura!
"puff--!!!"
Scarface Liu coughed up a mouthful of blood, not bright red, but a dark red tinged with black, like fragments of internal organs. His machete clattered to the ground, the eerie blue light on its blade extinguished completely. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees, his hands supporting him as he coughed up large mouthfuls of blood. With each cough, his face paled further, and his breath grew weaker.
He struggled to lift his head and look at Nie Lingfeng standing in the center of the room. The young man was still in the same posture, still had the same expression, and even his breathing was normal, as if the earth-shattering blow just now was only a breeze brushing against his cheek.
But Scarface Liu saw it.
In the depths of those calm eyes, he saw something—not murderous intent, not violence, but a higher level of indifference, almost divine. It was as if he were looking at an ant, at dust, at something insignificant, something that could be erased at any moment.
"You... what are you...?" His voice was hoarse, filled with despair, and a hint of fear from the depths of his soul that he himself didn't even realize. "You're not human... you're not human..."
Nie Lingfeng didn't answer, but walked up to him, squatted down, and looked him in the eye.
"Go back and tell Wang Ai," his voice was soft, but every word was like a hammer blow, striking Scarface Liu's heart and penetrating the depths of his soul, "If you want to kill me, send someone decent. This kind of trash isn't even good enough to warm me up."
He paused, then added, "Also, tell him I've got Chen Duo under my wing. If he dares to have any more ideas, I wouldn't mind... visiting the Wang family. I imagine the scenery at the Wang family mansion must be quite nice."
After saying that, he reached out and gently tapped Scarface Liu's forehead with his index finger.
The force was very light, like a dragonfly skimming the water.
But Scarface Liu felt a gentle yet irresistible force surge into his mind, instantly overwhelming all consciousness. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious.
Nie Lingfeng stood up, patted non-existent dust off his hands, walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and looked down.
The two bread carts downstairs were still parked, but the people next to them were gone—they probably heard the commotion upstairs, felt the terrifying pressure, knew things were hopeless, and ran away.
"You run pretty fast." Nie Lingfeng pursed his lips and lowered the curtains.
He walked to the wall, stretched out his finger, and tapped on the wall.
Three taps, pause, then tap again.
Soon, the wall responded with a knock—three knocks, a pause, and then one more.
Relieved, Nie Lingfeng began to clean up the mess.
He dragged the five unconscious men in black into the corridor, lined them up in a row, then took out his phone, took a picture of the five "dead dogs," opened WeChat, found Xu Si's profile picture—an arrogant emoji of him smoking a cigarette and wearing sunglasses—and clicked send.
After sending the photo, he thought for a moment and then typed another line:
"The gifts from the Wang family, please accept them. Five of them, none of them are dead, but they'll probably be bedridden for a few months. By the way, how long will it take to get a response from the company? My patience is running out."
After sending the text message, he put away his phone, went back to his room, closed the door, and sat cross-legged on the bed again.
The Qilin tattoo on his chest was slightly warm.
When that oppressive aura erupted just now, he could clearly feel the violent, murderous, and destructive impulses within him, belonging to the "demonic" state, stirring once more. It was as if a slumbering beast had been startled and opened one eye.
But soon, that impulse was suppressed by the combined effect of the clarity of the Ice Heart Technique and the peace of the Wuqiu Yi Technique, and sank back into the depths of consciousness.
"Still not stable enough," Nie Lingfeng muttered to himself, opening his eyes to look at his palm. A faint crimson-gold pattern flashed across his palm, like a brand of flame. "I need to hurry and master the first step of 'Crossing the Demonic Heart,' 'Facing the Enemy.' Otherwise, when I encounter a stronger opponent next time, I might not be able to control myself in a life-or-death battle."
He closed his eyes and began to circulate his energy again.
This time, he deliberately guided the scorching power within his body—the fiery power brought by the Qilin blood—to flow along specific meridians, tempering his muscles, bones, and flesh, and also calming the restless demonic nature.
Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink.
---
Room 308 next door.
Chen Duo sat on the bed, hugging a panda plush toy, quietly listening to the sounds coming from the other side of the wall.
The fight lasted less than three minutes from start to finish.
She didn't even hear Nie Lingfeng use any martial arts moves; she only heard the loud bang of the door being kicked open, several muffled impacts, a shrill screech, and then... silence.
It was eerily quiet.
But she could feel the oppressive aura emanating from next door just moments before, an aura that sent shivers down her spine. It wasn't murderous intent, nor hostility, but a higher-level, almost law-like presence, like an ancient deity awakening and looking down upon the world.
She is not afraid.
Because she knew that the owner of that oppressive aura was protecting her.
She looked down at her left hand. On her palm, there was a faint black line—a trace of the lingering poison. Although Nie Lingfeng had suppressed and purified most of it with Qilin blood and medicinal bath, the root cause had not been eliminated and it still existed—shimmering slightly in the darkness, like a living thing breathing.
But this time, the frequency of the flashing patterns was very smooth and stable, with no signs of getting out of control.
Because the person next door, his very existence is a form of suppression.
Chen Duo hugged the doll even tighter, burying her face in the soft fur and taking a deep breath. The doll smelled of laundry detergent; it was new that day, and Nie Lingfeng had specifically chosen the lavender scent, saying it had a sleep-inducing effect.
"He's very strong," she whispered, as if telling herself or confirming something. "Stronger than Village Chief Ma, stronger than Uncle Liao, stronger than...everyone."
She paused, then added, "But he won't hurt me."
These words were spoken softly, but with great conviction.
She lay down, hugged the doll to her chest, and closed her eyes.
That night, she slept exceptionally well. She had no nightmares, didn't wake up in a fright, and didn't sit up in a cold sweat to check if she was still alive.
Because she knew someone was protecting her.
And that person was just a wall away.
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, on the top floor of a luxury apartment building.
Wang Ai stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to the room. Outside, the city lights shone brightly, and cars streamed by—a scene of bustling prosperity. But he wasn't looking at the view; his eyes were closed, and he was clutching a cell phone in his hand.
The phone screen was lit up, displaying a photo—a photo of five men in black lying like dead dogs in a hotel corridor.
Below the photo, there was a line of text: "A gift from the Wang family, please sign for it."
Sender: Nie Lingfeng.
"Click."
The phone screen shattered in his hand. Shards of glass pierced his palm, and blood dripped from between his fingers, blooming into crimson flowers on the floor. But Wang Ai was oblivious. He simply opened his eyes slowly, looked out the window, his face ashen, and his eyes swirling with murderous intent like the calm before a storm.
"Useless!" he spat out the word through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse, like a wild beast's growl. "A bunch of useless trash! Five people, with the Six-Eyed Ghost Scorpion, and they didn't even manage to scratch a hair on his head!"
He whirled around and smashed the shattered phone against the wall! With a loud bang, fragments of the phone flew everywhere!
The middle-aged man standing in the shadows behind him—the same one from the ancestral hall during the day—lowered his head, his voice calm and even: "Grandpa, please calm down. The last information Scarface Liu sent back indicates that the flames used by Nie Lingfeng are extremely strange, possibly... Qilin Fire."
"Qilin Fire?" Wang Ai's pupils contracted.
"Yes. According to ancient records, only those who possess the bloodline of the Qilin can awaken this extremely yang and powerful flame. And Nie Lingfeng's identity file does indeed have a note saying 'suspected of possessing a special bloodline,' but no one has confirmed what bloodline it is before."
Wang Ai fell silent. He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one gulp. The strong liquor burned his throat, but it couldn't suppress the anger in his heart and... a faint unease.
Qilin bloodline.
If it really is one of those legendary things, then things are getting complicated.
But he couldn't back down. The Wang family's reputation, his own reputation, and the revenge for Wang Bing—Wang Bing wasn't dead, but his cultivation was crippled, his life tablet cracked, and his foundation damaged; he might never recover. This revenge had to be taken!
"Go," Wang Ai put down her wine glass, her voice regaining its calmness, but beneath that calmness lay a deeper killing intent, "invite 'that person' out of seclusion. Tell him that I have found the 'materials' he wanted. More than one—Nie Lingfeng's Qilin blood and Chen Duo's Gu body and Holy Child physique are both excellent 'materials'."
The middle-aged man in the shadows trembled slightly: "Old sir, what's the price for asking 'that person' to intervene..."
"I know," Wang Ai interrupted him, her eyes as cold as knives, "but I can afford it. As long as Nie Lingfeng dies and Chen Duo falls into my hands, any price is worth it."
The middle-aged man was silent for a moment, then bowed: "Yes. I'll take care of it right away."
He retreated silently, disappearing into the shadows.
Wang Ai walked back to the French windows and looked at the night view outside. His face was reflected in the glass—old, sinister, with a mad flame burning in his eyes.
"Nie Lingfeng... Chen Duo..." he murmured the two names, each word dripping with murderous intent, "You can't escape. Not a single one of you will escape."
Outside the window, dark clouds gathered in the night sky, obscuring the starlight.
An even bigger storm is brewing.
At the eye of the storm was that unassuming budget hotel, the girl who fell asleep clutching a panda plush toy, and the boy who sat cross-legged, practicing his martial arts.
The night is still long.
The game has only just begun.