Chapter 107: He Always Gets Things Done Fastest

Qingzhou City, Dashun Teahouse.

Outside on the second floor, a small table held two cups of green tea.

Li Xinhan sat with a cold expression, Li Mujin standing behind him; the siblings gazed silently across the table.

The thin-faced middle-aged man with a goatee smiled: “You two needn’t be so tense—I’m merely here at Young Master Kangyun’s request, to accompany him for a cup of tea.”

“Hmph.”

Li Xinhan sneered: “In Qingzhou City, you need a Golden Core cultivator as a bodyguard just to go out? Your aristocratic brats’ courage has been declining year after year.”

“Why the rush? I just asked you to come drink tea.”

Zhao Kangyun slightly raised his brow and turned to look at the distant city wall.

His men stationed outside the city had received word, so he hurriedly summoned a clan guardian and immediately called out the Li siblings.

As scions of first-tier forces, actual violence was impossible.

But at least, he’d smash that bench back onto them, exactly as it had been done.

“Tap-tap-tap…”

As time passed, footsteps grew more frequent; the young generation present that day soon arrived on the second floor, cramming the corridor tightly.

They said nothing, merely staring coldly at the distant city wall.

“…”

The Li siblings exchanged a glance, guessing what was coming.

Who else could gather this crowd but Shen Yi?

But this was too fast?

He’d left Qingzhou City for barely two full days—just the round trip would take a day and a half.

With only half a day left, to investigate the cause, gather evidence, and capture the Golden Body Sect’s abbot—with only a hundred and twenty-odd men under him—it seemed impossible.

No doubt these people shared that thought, which emboldened Zhao.

“I said, don’t rush. Sit down and be still.”

Zhao Kangyun lowered his gaze, lazily fanning himself, mocking the siblings: “You came out without guards? Learn a lesson next time.”

These were all prominent figures; back then, they’d been careless. He’d relied on Shen Yi’s backing and left them not a shred of face. Today, they’d prepared thoroughly—waiting only for the tide to turn to reclaim their dignity.

The Zhao family guardian smiled faintly, unwilling to meddle in these youths’ petty squabbles, lifting his teacup for a sip.

Coming to Dashun Teahouse was also at his family’s urging.

The Demon Suppression Bureau always acts brutally, yet rarely makes mistakes. Now that they’ve sent a young, overconfident, inexperienced new attendant to botch things so badly, this was the perfect chance to file a complaint with their office and remind those hounds not to be so aggressive.

Clearly, Zhao Kangyun’s intelligence was accurate.

The sun had just reached its zenith.

A group of riders had halted outside the city, as usual dismounting to enter on foot.

Zhao Kangyun’s sharp eyes counted: one hundred twenty-four left, one hundred twenty-three returned—all with blank, bewildered expressions.

His lips curled involuntarily—he’d guessed right.

No casualties, yet returned so quickly, not a single Golden Body disciple captured—likely they’d found nothing.

Hong Lei walked last, leading a demonic steed, but the rider atop it—the once terrifying figure—was gone.

“He’s too ashamed to show his face.”

Zhao Kangyun dropped all pretense, snapped his fan shut, rose, and seized the bench already prepared beside him, hefting it in his hand: “I suppose, after causing such a mess, Young Master Li won’t dare go back and complain?”

The other scions of noble houses still stared outside.

They’d come for Shen Yi, but dared not get dragged into the feud between Zhao and Li.

Hearing Zhao’s words, though their faces remained unchanged, their eyes flickered with faint satisfaction.

The Demon Suppression Bureau was ruthless—not just toward outsiders, but toward their own. Such a grand display, multiple deaths, yet ending so hastily—it demanded an explanation.

Li Xinhan’s face was icy as he lifted his gaze: “Enough nonsense. I’ve got a report to file.”

“Bold.”

Zhao Kangyun grinned, then his eyes turned vicious as he swung the bench down with full force!

In mid-motion, a slender hand gripped his wrist.

The Zhao family guardian murmured: “Young Master, it’s time to go home.”

“What do you mean?!”

Zhao Kangyun whirled around, a choked rage building in his chest.

Could Zhao family members be insulted so freely, while Li family members couldn’t bear even a speck of humiliation?

At that moment, he noticed his guardian’s glance, followed his gaze—and saw Hong Lei approaching with the demonic steed, its back tied with a swaying leather sack.

He stared: the sack had limbs, and dangled a smooth, hairless head.

Who else but the Golden Body Sect’s abbot?

Zhao Kangyun froze, the bench suspended mid-air as if struck by lightning.

The other noble scions all gasped, eyes wide with shock.

In Qingzhou, a second-tier force meant having one strong cultivator comparable to a Golden Core—whether through fortune or illicit means—as long as he could overpower a Jade Fluid cultivator, that counted.

First-tier forces required not only more true Golden Core cultivators, but also stable pathways to reach Golden Core—like the Sword Pool on Qingfeng Mountain—to avoid generational decline and secure their status.

The Golden Body Sect had barely edged into second-tier status precisely because their abbot’s realm had surged.

And now, this rising powerhouse, within two days, was bound to a horse’s back, lifeless—killing a chicken on Pingkang Mountain would’ve taken longer.

One could only suspect Shen Yi had prepared the corpse in advance, staging this grand spectacle to intimidate them.

“What exactly are you doing?” Li Mujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m tired of sitting on that chair—can’t I switch to a bench and stretch my legs?” Zhao Kangyun slammed the bench to the ground, breathing heavily.

“Last time Shen my lord rode back, it was after crushing Qingfeng Mountain. What’s the Golden Body Sect? A minor demon sect he casually obliterated—does he even need to show his face? I have no idea what you fools are thinking.”

Li Xinhan wore an expression of perfect certainty, scanning the crowd with disdain.

“...” Li Mujin gave him a deadpan look.

Hearing the commotion upstairs,

Hong Lei lifted his head slightly, then lowered his gaze again, glancing back at his comrades—he found they were no better off than he was.

General Chen Qiankun had spent over a month to strike Qingfeng Mountain.

Shen Yi personally led a squad of Captains, stormed the mountain, killed the old monk, and returned—all in under an hour.

Easier than having a meal—perhaps the dishes hadn’t even arrived before it was over.

Had they not needed to notify the local government to handle the poisoned civilians, they might’ve returned even faster.

This achievement… was truly scorching hot.

(End of Chapter)