Chapter 439: He Who Kills Shall Be Killed

"My lord, shall we continue?"

Jiang Fu.

The heads had already been placed in coffins, everything in the room replaced with new furnishings, yet the stench of blood still clung to the air, stubborn and inescapable.

Jiang Tu's face was ashen, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably, his expression twisted into something monstrous.

"Continue! Of course we continue!"

He gnashed his teeth.

"As long as I haven't called off, no one stops."

"But…"

"But what? All this time, you've exploited my authority to enjoy wealth and luxury. Now that you're needed to act, and just a few people have died, you're already backing down? Let me tell you this: once you've boarded my ship, you don't get off. From the day you started wielding my power to bully others, you should've been ready to die."

The dagger is revealed when the map is fully unrolled!

As Jiang Tu saw all his subordinates as expendable, they couldn't help but wonder: how many more days would their heads remain attached?

Jiang Tu had no real foundation—he could rely on nothing but the old emperor.

Yet the old emperor clearly wanted to watch a show, wanted to see dogs devour each other.

In wealth, Jiang Tu might still have a chance to compete. But now it's a fight for survival—everyone in Jiang Fu could only be crushed beneath the Hou Fu's feet.

The Hou Fu's depth of power was nothing Jiang Tu, who had only been wealthy for a dozen years, could match.

This was a battle whose outcome was decided from the very start.

No suspense. No twists.

Yet Jiang Tu acted like a gambler, eyes bloodshot, betting not just all his cards but even borrowing to wager more.

The subordinates were uneasy, each lost in their own thoughts.

To betray Jiang Tu would likely get them killed faster.

They could only grit their teeth and press on.

Chen Guanlou wiped his bloody blade with a handkerchief, bodies lying beside him, his mood beyond words.

Jiang Tu, this mad dog, had not only struck at the Hou Fu's assets but turned his blade against the Chen clan.

Chen Guanlou's reputation had made him the first target.

On his way home, he had already slain three waves of attackers—each one charging recklessly, dying beneath his blade.

Only after returning home did the clan notify him of an emergency meeting: everyone was ordered to stay indoors until the matter ended.

Anything needed must be reported to the clan; the clan would procure it collectively.

Even if Jiang Tu's men were bold, they dared not storm into Hou Fu territory to kill—they only struck when people ventured outside.

"The Young Master said this dispute will end soon—don't panic. Anyone who suffers loss of life due to this conflict will be compensated by the Hou Fu: the clan will handle funeral arrangements and pay severance. The Hou Fu will also organize patrols to ensure everyone's safety. The clan must also contribute personnel: each household must send one person per head, forming shifts to patrol day and night, leaving no blind spots."

The meeting covered much, but its core was simple: how to protect everyone's safety—through self-defense and collective unity to guard their home.

Chen Guanlou, being young and strong, had no choice but to join the clan's patrol unit as a squad leader. His squad had five others, making six total.

Their first shift was assigned to the middle of the night, patrolling the outer perimeter.

The squad members suspected the clan was deliberately targeting them.

"We have no martial veins—we only know a few fake moves. Assigning us night patrol is bad enough, but now we're stuck with the outer perimeter? Everyone knows the outer perimeter is the most dangerous. Those mad dogs will strike first at whoever patrols it."

"We must tell the clan this arrangement is unacceptable. This is playing with our lives."

"Enough. It's rotation—no one escapes. You're not the only squad on outer patrol tonight." Chen Guanlou silenced their complaints.

The clan's rotation schedule was overall fair. But their squad was unlucky—drawn to the first night, with no experience to draw from.

Chen Guanlou looked at his squad members. "Dismissed. Go eat. When night falls, gather at my house. I'll lead the patrol. With me, you'll be safe."

"Chen Guanlou, don't make empty boasts."

"Brother Lou, I know you train daily. But you're just an ordinary martial cultivator without a martial vein. No matter how strong you get, you can't match those with veins. How can you protect us?"

Chen Guanlou's gaze darkened. "I say I can protect you—do you believe me?"

No one spoke.

They were all stunned by his gaze. Yet, inexplicably, a strange confidence stirred within them—baseless, yet undeniable.

Seeing their silence, Chen Guanlou said: "If you believe me, stop talking. Go eat. Bring dry rations. Follow my orders tonight, and you'll all return unharmed."

"Fine. I'll trust you this once."

"Brother Lou, you said it—our lives are in your hands."

The group dispersed, each returning home to eat.

Chen Guanlou went home too, eating with the Chunxiang sister's family—no cooking for himself, to save time.

He was sharpening his blade.

To deal with Jiang Tu's men, he didn't need a great sword. A great sword drank too much blood—its stench would betray him the moment it left its sheath.

Tonight, he planned to use the official dagger issued by Tianlaomiao—sharpen it well, so it would cut cleanly and require less effort to kill.

His face was grim, his aura gloomy; the children in Chunxiang's household dared not approach. The youngest burst into loud sobs.

Only then did he realize the problem—he quickly suppressed his terrifying aura. He tried to soothe the child, but the moment he moved closer, the child screamed louder.

Fine.

He kept his distance.

He should avoid children for now.

After dinner, the squad arrived at his house on time—not one late, not one absent.

"Everyone's here. Patrol begins!"

Leading the way, Chen Guanlou and his six men began circling the outer perimeter of Hou Fu territory.

The hour was still early; people still moved on the streets.

Once curfew struck, not a soul remained on the streets—even the Wucheng Military Command and the Embroidered Uniform Guard vanished.

It seemed they had deliberately withdrawn, leaving ample space for the two sides to fight.

Chen Guanlou sneered.

He'd known Jiang Tu's sudden madness had to be the old emperor's doing—otherwise, the Wucheng Military Command and the Embroidered Uniform Guard would never have cooperated so perfectly, clearing the streets so completely.

Swish!

A blade descended from above, aimed straight at the group.

Before the squad could react, Chen Guanlou's blade was already drawn.

Metal clashed.

Thud!

A heavy body hit the ground, blood spraying.

The squad froze in terror—this was their first encounter with such sudden, bloody violence; none reacted in time.

"Whose blood?"

"Am I dead?"

"You're not dead!"

Chen Guanlou gently wiped his blade with a dark blue handkerchief. "Continue patrol!"

"Brother Lou killed the enemy!"

"Brother Lou killed a martial cultivator?"

"Brother Lou can kill martial cultivators?"

"Brother Lou wasn't lying!"