Chapter 166

At night, 9: 0 p. ., Toudao Ridge Station.

Lu Dongjun still maintained his slumped posture as he entered the platform.

Since arriving at Haichiling, Wan Jinxian had bought him over seventy businesses, and now he had sold all seventy of them to others.

Each business had a different owner, but every one had news of Lu Dongjun personally transferring ownership, each article accompanied by a photograph.

Lu Dongjun didn't know how these photos had been obtained, but he knew one thing: he had nothing left in Haichiling.

The hundreds of thousands of silver dollars in the bank couldn't be withdrawn—at least not in Haichiling.

He had taken some loose cash from his mansion, and over the past few days he had gathered over a thousand silver dollars from various places—these were his only remaining assets.

Lost money can be recovered, but reputation is far harder to regain.

In Haichiling, everyone shouted for Lu Dongjun to be driven out; he had plunged Haichiling into famine again, unexpectedly, and even the mansion he once lived in had been burned down by furious civilians.

Lu Dongjun wasn't a meticulous man, but he sensed danger drawing near; he had planned to publish a few more articles in the newspapers to buy himself more time in Haichiling.

But now he realized a problem: he couldn't hold on any longer.

The newspapers were harming him, the major gangs were targeting him, the powerful families were hunting him, and even common folk would no longer tolerate him.

He hadn't brought enough money, but there was one thing he never left his side.

It was an anonymous, unlimited travel pass—this document allowed Lu Dongjun to travel to any location in Pulu Province under any identity.

It was a privilege granted to wealthy families by the Waizhou Society; when Lu Dongjun produced this pass, the ticket clerk asked no questions and immediately purchased his train ticket.

After passing through the turnstile, Lu Dongjun walked toward the platform.

He had never ridden a train alone before, nor was he accustomed to reading platform signs; the platform seemed farther away than before.

A few scattered passengers were boarding and alighting.

Lu Dongjun hadn't bought a private carriage—that would draw too much attention.

He found a window seat in the hard-seat carriage, pulled his hat over his face, and tried to calm himself in the steam train's whistle.

The last time he rode a hard-seat train was with Lu Dongliang.

Back then, Lu Dongjun was just thirteen, had argued with his father, feared being beaten, and sneaked out of the house.

Lu Dongliang found him and said, if you're going to run, run far.

Back then, Lu Dongliang loved to travel, always carrying a travel pass; he bought two hard-seat tickets and took Lu Dongjun all the way to Kudai Kan.

Kudai Kan was truly a fine place…

In truth, Lu Dongliang had always treated him well.

Everyone wants to be head of the family, but living as the second son under Lu Dongliang wasn't so bad.

Why had he turned on Lu Dongliang?

In the past, he'd only dared to think it—how could he have had the courage?

Because Zhuo Yuling?

She was beautiful, and skilled in bed.

But he wasn't unfamiliar with women.

Because Wan Jinxian?

Ever since this bastard gained favor beside him, his life had never been peaceful.

He was certainly involved, but the blame wasn't entirely his.

Was Lu Dongliang still alive?

If I sincerely apologized to him, could this be buried?

Why the hell am I thinking about this?

Ooooh~

Huh-huh-huh~

The train had already departed.

Lu Dongjun felt stuffy and pulled his hat off his face.

Outside the window, scenery slowly receded: homes, farmland, forests.

Lu Dongjun wanted to open the window for air, but couldn't find the latch.

His temper flared—he wanted to punch the window out!

No, he couldn't act recklessly; this wasn't the Lu family's private train.

On a regular train, he couldn't cause trouble, especially not offend the attendants.

In his frustration, he suddenly noticed something strange in the carriage.

He was the only passenger.

Impossible—when he boarded, at least a third of the seats were occupied.

Where had everyone gone?

Clang!

The carriage door opened; a man in a gray suit, holding a cigarette, sat down across the aisle in the next row.

"Second brother, it's been a while."

He Haisheng?

Lu Dongjun pulled his hat onto his head, bracing for combat: "You've mistaken me for someone else."

He Haisheng laughed: "Why play dumb? I recognize you—keeping up this act is pointless."

He then offered Lu Dongjun a cigarette: "Have a puff."

Lu Dongjun didn't take it; he kept staring at the half-smoked cigarette in He Haisheng's hand.

He Haisheng was a Smoke Cultivator; according to Lu Dongjun's knowledge, He Haisheng was at the seventh layer.

Lu Dongjun was at the eighth layer—clearly superior.

But Lu Dongjun never underestimated his opponent.

In strategy, Lu Dongjun's mind wasn't sharp.

In business, he was half a failure.

In combat, facing death, Lu Dongjun feared no one.

When Lu Dongliang fought He Yuxiu, Lu Dongjun found an opening to land a single devastating blow on Lu Dongliang; though he took advantage of surprise, it was still thanks to his innate talent for seizing battle opportunities.

Even Monkey Qiu, on guard, was rendered helpless by Lu Dongjun's strike—because Lu Dongjun's response was perfectly timed, though Duan Shaoxia's methods were unusually peculiar.

Now facing He Haisheng, Lu Dongjun still had a clear plan.

"He Laosan, I'm down on my luck, just want to return to Lüshuicheng to find a meal. We grew up together, have no grudge—now isn't the time to make trouble for me, is it?"

As he spoke, Lu Dongjun observed He Haisheng's seating position.

He Haisheng took a deep drag, then exhaled sharply, his entire body enveloped in smoke.

"Since you mentioned grudges, there's one thing I'd like to ask you: when you invited my brother to dinner, he fell ill afterward, broke out in rashes, nearly died—do you remember?"

Lu Dongjun watched the smoke's movement, judging the carriage's airflow: "I remember. Your family tried to pin it on me then—I told your sister He Yuxiu to her face it wasn't me, and she believed me."

He Haisheng nodded: "I believed you too—until I came to Haichiling and realized something was off. Your strategist, Wan Jinxian, is a Disease Cultivator, isn't he?"

Lu Dongjun fell silent; the truth had been exposed.

He Haisheng continued: "My brother's illness was nearly incurable—until a foreigner cured him."

We thought he was a foreign doctor, but later investigations revealed he was a Disease Cultivator—he healed by absorbing the disease's root from the patient."

I've confirmed everything: the disease root the foreigner took was created by another Disease Cultivator. Disease Cultivators are nearly extinct—how could it be so coincidental that you have one too?"

Lu Dongjun shook his head: "You mean Wan Jinxian? He's not a Disease Cultivator—he's a Poison Cultivator."

He Haisheng grinned, cigarette between his teeth: "Second brother, you're still hiding things now?

If you hadn't come to Haichiling to kill mosquitoes, our He family might have remained fooled all along.

The mosquitoes in Haichiling died of disease, not poison. In Pulu Province, who else could make mosquitoes sick? At this point, what else do you have to say…?"

Lu Dongjun had nothing left to say.

He punched He Haisheng directly.

The punch didn't strike He Haisheng's body—it hit a cloud of smoke, as if missing.

But Lu Dongjun knew: the punch hadn't missed.

Smoke scattered like sparks—that was the seventh-layer technique of Smoke Cultivators, dispersing the body into smoke to absorb part of an attack.

But only part.

He Haisheng took the full force of Lu Dongjun's punch—it hurt.

Smoke drifted through the carriage, then vanished.

Lu Dongjun scanned the surroundings—suddenly, smoke coalesced above his head; He Haisheng resumed his human form, the cigarette in his mouth transforming into a fire serpent that shot toward Lu Dongjun's skull.

Lu Dongjun dodged the fire serpent, reached out, and yanked He Haisheng down from the train's ceiling.

He had fought Smoke Cultivators before; he knew their habitual escape paths and how wind direction affected them.

Relying on past combat experience, Lu Dongjun instantly predicted He Haisheng's attack position.

He Haisheng's body rapidly heated, igniting into flame, forcing Lu Dongjun to release him.

Lu Dongjun never intended to hold him—he slammed him into the carriage's corner.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A row of seats shattered; He Haisheng crashed into the corner, but Lu Dongjun didn't rush forward to finish him.

The seats were ruined, the carriage undamaged—but charred marks remained, proving He Haisheng had turned to smoke upon impact.

Charging forward now wouldn't seriously wound He Haisheng—it would only put Lu Dongjun on the defensive.

Lu Dongjun swung his hand directly in place.

What is he trying to do?

Hit someone with a slap through the air?

Isn't this too childish?

He Haiqin also found it baffling when suddenly a furious wind surged within the carriage.

He Haiqin turned pale with shock, finally realizing something was wrong.

The strength of this wind was immense—it could scatter He Haiqin in moments.

He was a Smoke Cultivator; wasn't his body already capable of dissolving into smoke?

Dissolving into smoke was indeed a Smoke Cultivator's advantage, but it depended on how thoroughly it happened.

Lu Dongjun exploited the Smoke Cultivator's weakness: while He Haiqin's body turned to smoke, he intended to blow him apart completely—until nothing remained but ash and dust.

He Haiqin strained every ounce of strength to solidify his body, but Lu Dongjun's wind was too fierce—he could not withstand it.

His cheeks split open, blue smoke seeping from the wounds; his entire body erupted with scars, and thick plumes of smoke poured outward.

He Haiqin's body teetered on the brink of collapse when the carriage door suddenly opened and He Haiqin stepped inside.

Lu Dongjun froze, confused why He Haiqin had appeared inside the carriage.

Had he been hiding on the train all along?

Then why hadn't he shown himself sooner?

Lu Dongjun swiftly swung his palm, determined to kill He Haiqin at once.

The gale rushed toward him; He Haiqin opened his mouth and sucked the wind inside—along with part of the smoke—he chewed it once, then swallowed.

Ninth-layer Food Cultivator technique: Swallowing the Mountains and Rivers.

"Damn it!" He Haiqin cursed. "I raced all the way here and got a bellyful of cold wind."

PS: This is a train.

Where did He Haiqin come from?

Dear readers, Happy New Year!

(End of Chapter)