Chapter 59: One Word Calms the Field, Both Foe and Ally Leap

A long, roaring howl suddenly echoed near the compound.

“Old beggar, don’t get cocky—I’m here!!”

Even the loudspeaker’s voice couldn’t drown out that bellow.

People nearby immediately moved, converging toward the source.

A dark shadow surged forward, kicking up a cloud of yellow dust, and in an instant burst into the compound.

At least thirty hired mercenaries nearby witnessed this scene.

They all had intelligence on Zhu Heng’s past demonstrated abilities.

But seeing the speed and aura of that shadow, every one of them felt a chill.

How could he be stronger than estimated?

Some who had come alone slowed their steps involuntarily.

But those who arrived in groups, surrounded by trusted allies, felt more confident; after a brief hesitation, they still pressed forward, waiting for an opening.

Skk-skk-skk-skk-skk!!!

Dozens of playing cards shot through the air.

They embedded themselves in the bamboo scaffolding, the discarded sand filters.

They pinned themselves just before everyone’s feet.

“The one with the loudspeaker is from the Special Capture Unit.”

From the shadows of the floor, Fang Jun stepped out, chewing on an unlit cigarette.

He scanned the crowd, hands hanging low, dozens of playing cards fanned out between his fingers, and spoke just one line.

“Special Capture Unit on duty—bystanders, stay out!”

The crewcut growled: “So the Special Capture Unit can steal jobs now?”

Wang Jingli’s face darkened; he slapped the crewcut across the forehead.

“Steal your head? Are you out of your mind?!”

When the Special Capture Unit isn’t present, everyone does side jobs.

But snatching someone right under their noses? That’s a completely different matter.

The former? We do it all the time.

The latter? If you dare do that, you’re done in this country.

You’d ruin your official standing, sacrifice your hard-won foundation, and destroy your future domestic market.

Unless you were already on the Special Capture Unit’s blacklist, no one would be so stupid as to risk everything for a single job.

So, because of Fang Jun’s single sentence, all dozens of them stopped dead in their tracks!

Still, their expressions were grim; they weren’t ready to leave so easily, so they stayed put.

Wang Jingli forced a smile: “We’re not going in—just taking a stroll here…”

Fang Jun had already turned and walked away—he still had to guard Chu Tianshu.

He had to prevent interference from other directions, and more importantly, watch out for anyone who might actually be on the blacklist.

The old madman had already sprinted deep into the compound.

Around him, unfinished buildings loomed; the central ground was littered with rubble and sand piles.

Dozens of sand-filtering screens were scattered here, along with a broken, abandoned concrete mixer.

On the rooftop to the east, Chu Tianshu noticed the old madman’s approach path and extended his gaze backward.

He strained his eyes, searching for Zhu Heng’s possible hiding spot—Kong Wenju and his antique were likely there too.

But as soon as he pinpointed a rough direction, his gaze instinctively dropped lower.

Because Chu Tianshu realized the old madman had already started climbing.

The bamboo scaffolding outside the unfinished buildings made it possible for ordinary people to climb straight to the top.

Yet in the instant the old madman charged forward, he leapt up, stepping directly onto a thick bamboo pole and racing upward.

In the blink of an eye, he had reached the third floor.

His momentum and foot grip were beginning to falter.

The old madman switched to hooking his instep around the bamboo, curling his body tightly against it.

Like a monkey climbing a tree, his hands and feet moved in swift, alternating motion, shooting upward.

He was called a madman—he should be mentally confused.

Yet his reactions and movements were precise, showing not a trace of confusion.

“Old beggar!”

Zhu Heng had reached the rooftop of the unfinished building, took two strides forward, and advanced with fierce aura.

“Back then, I fought you for the Nine Yin Vault—driven by money, I lost my humanity. I let greed erase all loyalty, failed to see myself clearly—and that’s why I lost to you.”

“Times have changed. Today, I come not just for victory, but for my son’s expectations.”

“I will win!”

Chu Tianshu felt a cold wind press against him with each step Zhu Heng took, stirring his hair.

Not bad. I heard madmen can be kuangren too—indeed, you have presence.

As Chu Tianshu was pressured, his battle intent surged; his eyes flared with a brief, sharp gleam.

“But your reasoning for believing you’ll win is far from sufficient. If you insist, I too came for emotion…”

“Now, I have one more reason.”

Chu Tianshu stared at him, sensing a vast, cruel, fierce, brilliant halo within his chest.

“You carry a heavy aura of demonic spirits!”

Back at Kong Wenju’s home, Chu Tianshu had sensed true demonic energy—but back then, he couldn’t confirm if Kong Wenju had practiced dark arts.

Yet Kong Wenju had lived quietly for years—why, at his age, would he suddenly steal everything and head straight for Macau?

Zhu Heng, who specialized in kidnapping youths, had not taken any during the warehouse battle—he’d seized only the old man, Kong Wenju.

That too was suspicious.

Now, it seemed a thread connected all these pieces.

“What demonic spirit?”

Zhu Heng glared. “Old beggar, you always call anything you dislike demonic. Today, I’m killing you—so you won’t have a chance to bluster again!”

He was about to move, but Chu Tianshu raised his hand first.

The loudspeaker was violently thrown, slicing through the air with a sharp crack.

Zhu Heng raised his hand and slashed.

According to records, Zhu Heng had once trained in the Great Sage Slash-and-Strike style.

Once, as one of Macau’s prominent businessmen, he had met with representatives from the Japanese Kyokushin Karate Association to discuss investing in a martial arts club—and demonstrated his skill on-site.

The karate master had split a raw bull’s horn with a palm strike.

Zhu Heng had split a single strand of the karate master’s fallen hair with his palm.

A mid-air slash had severed the hair, insubstantial and weightless.

After he went mad, he unexpectedly became non-aggressive—spending his days in meditation or staring blankly, talking to imaginary wife and children.

Years spent in a psychiatric hospital would surely have weakened his skills.

Yet now, his swing was clearly fiercer than before.

He split the loudspeaker’s metal casing open with his bare palm.

Inside, aluminum alloy, carbon fiber, ceramic components—all shattered.

Even a normal sword couldn’t produce such an effect; only a lathe’s circular saw could cut like this.

Chu Tianshu seized the moment, lunged forward, and slammed his foot hard onto the ground.

The rooftop was covered in a grid of rebar—perfect for transmitting force.

Zhong Jinqiu had never had a good spear—but if he saw such rebar, he could bind it with cloth and make a decent spear.

Chu Tianshu’s footstrike now unleashed his full strength—hard and soft in perfect harmony—channeling force forward at high speed, exploding just beneath Zhu Heng’s feet.

The rebar grid clanged!

Zhu Heng’s foot involuntarily lifted three inches off the ground.

After his bow stance and stomp, Chu Tianshu used that thrust to lunge forward, arm extended, body charging like a rider.

This was the spear technique from Taiji Quan.

His extended arm was like a spear; his entire body charged like a horse galloping to impale.

His fist, like a spearhead, produced two afterimages during the lunge, striking two targets simultaneously.

The old madman reacted with astonishing speed; even as he lost balance, he still slashed with his palm—his right palm struck the afterimage, his left palm met Chu Tianshu’s fist dead-on.

Boom!!

The old madman flew backward at an angle.

As he was about to fly off the rooftop, he twisted his waist midair, turned his body sideways, and stretched his right arm out.

As if anticipating it, he grabbed hold of a thick bamboo pole nearby.

The bamboo was thick, but its top was slender—it should not have withstood his impact.

Yet the instant his palm touched it, he shook it violently, channeling force downward; the steel wires binding the bamboo to each level snapped one by one.

The entire bamboo pole detached from the building and tilted outward.

The old madman’s body swung and curled midair, embracing the bamboo, spiraling down at high speed.

Seven or eight silver needles were all hammered into the bamboo stalks.

The old madman’s hand darted out and snapped back; after the needles settled, his hand returned to its position.

So fast was the motion that it seemed each needle had merely been inserted between his fingers, along the edge of his palm.

As he slid downward, all the needles bent beneath the pressure of his palm.

Before the bamboo stalks even struck the ground, the old madman had already slid nearly to the earth.

“Can he really nullify this?!”

Chu Tianshu’s face showed surprise—he had struck at once with his most unexpected, lethal technique upon their first meeting.

He had intended to knock the opponent off the building outright, yet the other remained unharmed.

Angered, he raised his brows and kicked another bamboo stalk.

The entire stalk shuddered violently, its binding straps snapping one by one.

Chu Tianshu extended his finger joints, swung his right sleeve to cushion his palm, and gripped the bamboo stalk.

CRACK!!!

He slid straight down in a near-vertical line, chasing the solid ground.

(End of Chapter)