Li Tieshou lay pinned under Su Mo’s foot, only regaining his senses after a long moment. “H-help!” he screamed, his voice thick with terror.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this underage girl would defeat him—and in such a brutal fashion.
Su Mo ignored his cries, first tending to his wounds before pulling out a red fruit from his pocket and taking a bite.
“Anyone here want to save him?” His icy gaze swept the room.
No one dared respond. Heads shook, distancing themselves from the fallen leader.
“Then why are you still standing? Get down!”
All but one obeyed—a dark-skinned young man who remained upright, smirking. “You’re at your limit. Quit the act. You really think we’d fear you alone?”
His words weren’t just for Su Mo but the crowd. And they worked. The more hot-blooded among them stirred, their faces burning with humiliation.
“Damn right! She’s already hurt! Since when do men cower like this?” A fiery youth in his twenties stepped forward, jeering directly in Su Mo’s face.
Recognition flickered in Su Mo’s eyes.
Ah. The whistler from earlier.
A single kick sent the youth flying, his body skidding to a stop at the dark-skinned man’s feet. The smirk vanished, replaced by uncertainty.
“North Star Special Ops. Interfere, and you’ll join him.”
“How impressive—the mighty North Star Group,” a smooth, mocking voice rang out from the doorway.
Su Mo’s stomach dropped.
No. Don’t tell me they’re tied to the Hundred Immortals Sect.
The newcomer was Yaxian. With theatrical politeness, he doffed his hat in greeting before turning his scorn on Li Tieshou. “So this is the famed D-rank awakener, Li Tieshou? Truly… enlightening.”
“Why are you here?” Su Mo demanded, guard up.
“If you can be here, why can’t I?” Yaxian smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his sleeve, unhurried.
“L-Lord Yaxian… save me…” Li croaked—only to be knocked out cold again by Su Mo.
“You came for him, didn’t you? To recruit him.”
“Originally. But he’s… disqualified himself.” Yaxian’s gaze lingered on Su Mo, admiration plain. “You, however—join us, and within three years, I’ll give you whatever your heart desires.”
Su Mo didn’t bite. But with escape impossible and waiting futile, he was trapped.
Yet, to his surprise, Yaxian didn’t press. “If you change your mind,” he said, turning to leave, “unblock my number.”
The moment Yaxian vanished, new commotion erupted outside.
“Move!” Ye Qingyi marched in, shoving a bruised, swollen-faced man ahead of her. Her eyes locked onto Su Mo, still standing dominant over the cowed crowd.
Tch. One got away. Annoyance prickled—not at her haul, but at how effortlessly he commanded the scene.
The version of her that Su Mo piloted was an invincible war goddess, her mere glare enough to paralyze foes.
“Call the branch. Have them collect the rest. The runner won’t escape,” Su Mo said, a wince betraying his pain.
Ye Qingyi noticed. “They’re en route.” She tossed him the white jade ring, scowling. “How could you be so careless? Look at you!”
Su Mo, guilty, stayed silent under her scolding.
“Never again, understand? Trading injuries like some brute—who does that help?”
He blinked.
She wasn’t angry about the wounds she’d taken. She was worried about his pain.
“…Yeah.” Warmth bloomed in his chest.
After handing off the prisoners, Ye Qingyi dragged Su Mo straight for disinfection and bandages.
Mostly superficial, thankfully—the blood just made it look worse.
Back at their place, Su Mo sprawled on the sofa, savoring the hot water she had poured. A rare privilege for the wounded, and he cherished every sip.
“How’d you sniff out the bun shop owner?” Ye Qingyi finally asked.
Su Mo set down his cup, adopting a storyteller’s flourish. “It was a dark and stormy night at the Jingnan Market—ah! Ow! Damn it—”
“Oh, so it does hurt?” Her smile was sweet as poison.
Ah. This was her payback.
Clearing his throat, he dropped the act. “Just a hunch at first. But my tests confirmed it.”
“He slipped up?”
“No. That’s the thing—he was too perfect. Unless he majored in acting, no one’s that flawless under sudden pressure.”
“What if he did study acting?”
“Shut it. Who taught you to argue like this?” Su Mo rolled his eyes. “And every time I probed, his composure never cracked. Definitely not some civilian.”
Ye Qingyi conceded the point. “But how’d you know he was Li Tieshou?”
“I didn’t.”
“You—what?”* Her eyes widened. “Then why give me the ring?”
Metal manipulation made weapons useless against Li—worse, a liability. Against the other two Qi Condensation cultivators, though, blades were decisive.
“Because I’m stronger, and you’re… not.” Su Mo grinned, the picture of innocence. “See, I could’ve handled the other two barehanded. But you? Well…”
He danced on the edge of death, leveraging his “injured” status to tease just shy of retaliation.
Ye Qingyi’s jaw clenched. Fine. Let him gloat today. But beneath her calm, a vow took root:
Revenge is a dish best served cold, Su Mo. Just you wait.
(σ;Д)σ Death penalty!