As one of the most renowned metropolises in the Great Xia nation, Jiangcheng’s nights were particularly enchanting—its dazzling lights and vibrant nightlife were the stuff of many people’s dreams.
Su Mo strolled down the street, humming a favorite tune, in exceptionally high spirits. After all, this was the first time in his life he had earned money—and such a substantial amount at that.
Two million! The thought alone was enough to make him grin in his sleep.
As he walked toward his villa, he mulled over what gifts to buy for his parents, completely unaware of the figure lurking in the shadows of an alley up ahead, watching him intently.
Dad loves music—I’ll get him a guitar. Mom loves traveling, but I can’t accompany her for now… Su Mo felt a twinge of disappointment.
Suddenly, a flash of steel cut through the air, aimed straight at his heart.
Su Mo arched backward, narrowly dodging the attack, then swiftly sidestepped to put distance between himself and the assassin.
But the killer was a professional, giving him no time to react. With a flick of his wrist, the assassin lunged again, short blade gleaming.
Uncertain of his opponent’s strength, Su Mo decided against reckless retaliation. Instead, he feigned panic, clumsily evading each strike.
Yet his act of submission didn’t earn him any mercy—the assassin only grew fiercer, each move deadlier than the last.
“Who are you? I don’t think we’ve ever crossed paths before,” Su Mo probed.
“You’ve offended the wrong person,” the killer replied coldly, his blade glinting like the fangs of a venomous snake.
The wrong person?
Three characters flashed through Su Mo’s mind: Ye Qingwen.
This woman just doesn’t quit! She got beaten up this morning, and now she’s sending assassins at night? Does she want me dead?
His earlier good mood evaporated. Su Mo’s expression darkened as battle intent surged within him.
Fine. I’ll remember this.
In an instant, he abandoned his defensive stance, darting forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Instead of dodging the assassin’s blade, Su Mo charged straight toward it.
Perhaps intimidated by his relentless advance, the assassin’s attacks lost their edge, hesitation creeping in.
Fights between superhumans were often decided in a split second—the slightest opening could turn the tide. And this was one such moment.
Su Mo’s Zhongyu Jue technique surged, spiritual energy whipping up a fierce gust as he barreled forward.
CRACK!
The assassin barely registered the dainty fist slamming into his chest before darkness swallowed his vision. Blood gushed from his mouth.
I’m done for…
He tried to beg for mercy, but another mouthful of blood bubbled up, choking his words.
At the critical moment, a streak of sword qi shot from the side, forcing Su Mo to retreat. A hidden figure seized the opportunity to rescue the assassin and vanish into the night.
“A Qi Hai realm cultivator?!” Su Mo’s heart clenched, still shaken by the near-miss.
Had he been even a fraction slower, that sword qi would have cut him down.
Materializing spiritual energy into tangible force was an ability unlocked only after opening the Qi Hai—the first qualitative leap in a cultivator’s journey.
Judging by the timing of the mysterious figure’s intervention, they were likely an experienced Qi Hai practitioner.
Su Mo was certain of this because, given his current strength, he doubted anyone far beyond that level would bother targeting him.
That was too close. If they’d actually wanted me dead, I’d be finished.
Not daring to linger, he bolted from the scene.
When he finally reached his doorstep, he spotted a group of yellow-haired punks loitering in the shadows—clearly lying in wait.
The moment they saw him approaching, they swaggered over, metal pipes in hand, sneering. “Hey there, pretty girl. Heard you’ve got quite the attitude. Someone paid us to teach you a lesson—what do you say?”
One lackey chimed in, “Unless you spend the night with our boss.”
The others erupted in jeers.
Su Mo instantly pegged the leader as no ordinary thug—his eyes flickered with an eerie white glow, a telltale sign of a superhuman, likely an awakened one.
The rest? Probably just cannon fodder, at best low-tier F-rankers. No threat.
Calmly, Su Mo pulled a tissue from his pocket, wiped the blood from his hands, and tossed it aside. A dangerously playful smile curled his lips.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you? Fine. Let’s play.”
This time, he struck first.
In the blink of an eye, two punks were on the ground. Su Mo lunged at the others before they could react.
The boss, incensed at being ignored, roared, “You’re dead!”
His eyes blazed fully white, glowing unnaturally in the dark.
Su Mo had been watching for this. The moment the change occurred, he felt an invasive presence seep into his mind—like ink dispersing in clear water, clouding his thoughts.
“Submit to me, and I’ll spare you,” the punk leader declared dramatically, his eyes shining brighter.
At first, Su Mo’s thoughts grew sluggish, as if his mind was no longer his own. But within half a minute, the discomfort faded—the mind control had no effect.
Casually, he strolled up to the boss and unleashed a flurry of “delicate” fists.
“All bark and no bite, huh?”
Realizing the tables had turned, the boss yelled for retreat. His gang scrambled like rats.
Su Mo wasn’t about to let them off so easily. He hauled them back one by one, lining them up for a scolding like misbehaving schoolkids.
“Talk. Who sent you?” He pulled out his phone, recording as he interrogated them.
“N-no one! We just thought you were hot and—OW! Okay, okay! It was Ye Qingshu! He paid us to rough you up!” the boss squealed under Su Mo’s “persuasion.”
Ye Qingshu—Ye Qingwen’s younger brother. No surprise there.
“Anyone else?”
“Huh? N-no, just him.”
“I mean, were there others like you given the same job?”
“Shouldn’t be. I’d know—we’re all rivals in this line of work. If there were, I’d totally sell them out.”
“…”
“How… noble of you,” Su Mo deadpanned.
The boss scoffed. “Noble? What’s loyalty to them? Waste of time and energy. Bet someone’s snitching on me right now.”
Crude but true.
“What’s going on here?” A man in black approached, flashing a badge emblazoned with the Big Dipper emblem.
He eyed Su Mo sternly. “Explain yourself.”
Before Su Mo could speak, the punks burst into tears, wailing about being bullied by a superhuman.
The agent’s expression hardened. He leveled his gun at Su Mo’s forehead.
“You’re all coming with me.”
Unfazed, Su Mo produced an identical badge—except his bore the title “Captain.”
“Perfect timing. These hooligans were causing trouble, and their leader’s an awakened. They’re your problem now.”
The agent blinked in surprise but meticulously verified the credentials before handing them back.
“Captain Ye, my apologies for the misunderstanding.” He then turned to the bewildered gang. “You—come with me. Now.”