Chapter 95: Those with Abilities Are the Real Family

Fang Can raised an eyebrow, surprised that the connection actually went through.

Didn’t this Nine Clans clash kill anyone at all?

Thinking of this, Fang Can politely said, “Hello, may I ask if you are a relative of Da Li Wang?”

“No no, sir, you’ve got the wrong person—I really don’t know anyone named Da Li Wang…”

The man on the other end of the line was nearly crying as he hastily denied it.

Having watched the livestream, he knew full well the two were locked in a Nine Clans duel—if he truly knew Da Li Wang, he’d be done for.

“Then…”

“The Da Li Wang you’re looking for—his father—is right ahead, just hit by a car, covered in blood, probably dead,” the man hurriedly explained.

“Oh.” Fang Can hung up the call and turned to Da Li Wang. “I’m sorry. Your father is dead.”

Fang Can added, “Your mother and the rest probably won’t survive either.”

“Oh, by the way, you’re going to be killed by me too.”

Silence—dead silence. Throughout, Da Li Wang stared at him with nothing but hatred.

The thought of this man being furious yet powerless, about to be crushed by him in the next second, filled Fang Can with pure delight.

“Since everything’s been laid out, let’s end it.”

Fang Can stepped forward with a smile, raised his right foot high, and stomped down hard, crushing Da Li Wang to death.

He didn’t leave immediately—he chose to desecrate the corpse.

These cultivators’ abilities were bizarre and varied; unless he shattered both heart and brain, Fang Can wouldn’t feel safe.

After a series of brutal stomps, reducing the body to a pulp of flesh and bone, Fang Can finally exhaled.

He checked the time—only two hours had passed since the start of the Carnival Day, yet so much had already happened.

“There’s still plenty left to do,” Fang Can grumbled, turning toward the city.

The area was now engulfed in war; from high above, Fang Can gazed down at the city below, his eyes flickering with weariness.

“There are so many vermin to kill today.”

Fang Can sighed and spoke to the drone: “Hey, everyone in City Z, report locations in the livestream—if you see any red-name players nearby, drop their coordinates.”

After speaking, Fang Can pulled out his phone, entered the drone’s livestream, and ran while scrolling through the flood of comments.

Too bad my luck isn’t high enough yet—if it were, I wouldn’t even need to move; I could curse thousands to death from hundreds of meters away.

He kept killing, killing, killing.

That entire day, Fang Can didn’t rest—killing from daylight into night until he’d cleared every criminal in City Z.

By the end, he’d almost forgotten why he was here; he just raised his fist and pulverized whoever stood before him.

This year’s Carnival Day was the first in history to eliminate every single violent offender.

After waiting a moment to confirm no one else emerged, Fang Can sat down, breathing heavily—exhausted from killing.

Behind him, a man stepped out of the shadows; as he appeared, the hovering drones instinctively veered away.

Fang Can tilted his head slightly, fixing his gaze on the man emerging behind him.

The man was middle-aged, forty or fifty, with messy hair and a grotesque scar running across his cheek.

Though he looked ordinary, Fang Can’s instinct told him this man was far more dangerous than Da Li Wang had been.

“I’m Ji Donglai, leader of the Dragon Team,” the man said without preamble.

‘Dragon Team…’ Fang Can immediately recalled the organization’s description.

It was the legendary group formed by cultivators—ordinary people knew its name but nothing of its inner workings.

Without ceremony, Ji Donglai tossed Fang Can a tight-fitting leather suit. “It’s awkward talking naked—put this on. We’ll talk after.”

“This is too big,” Fang Can said, staring at the suit, which was two sizes larger than his frame.

“No problem. This suit is specially designed for cultivators—it automatically adjusts size and style to any attire you’ve seen.”

“It also self-repairs. You can wear it in modern or ancient times alike.”

“You’re going to that world soon anyway—just wear this.”

Ji Donglai explained slowly; Fang Can raised his hand and slipped into the suit.

As the fabric clung to his skin, he felt a sensation of control over his fingers.

Fang Can thought for a moment, picturing the desired form—and instantly, the suit transformed into a set of connected silk threads forming shirt and pants, still one-piece but appearing as two separate garments.

Watching Fang Can inspect himself, Ji Donglai said calmly:

“You’ve been wandering outside for over a decade. Now that you’ve chosen to reveal your identity, shouldn’t you come back?”

Ji Donglai spoke with utter indifference—he’d seen this behavior too often.

Many cultivators, upon awakening, chose not to report immediately but instead hid away to play the role of the hidden master, the mysterious healer, the cultivator returning from the south.

When the Dragon Team discovered such types, they merely logged their files and let them continue their antics in the city, occasionally even supplying criminals as villains to entertain them.

Like Lan Huo Wang—he played the urban game for over ten years before returning.

As long as they didn’t come knocking, they pretended not to notice. After all, kids were just playing around—just don’t go too far.

Eventually, those cultivators grew bored and returned on their own. There was no rush.

Watching Fang Can’s silence, Ji Donglai continued slowly:

“The bond between cultivators is stronger than blood ties. I recall your file—you were kidnapped once, and your biological parents abandoned you for a mere ten million. Had you told them you were a cultivator, would that have happened?”

You should remember the sixth lesson in your middle school textbook, Ji Donglai said casually.

At his words, Fang Can instantly recalled the essay.

It told of a city-wide blackout caused by someone trying to save a sparrow trapped on a power line—he’d always thought it absurd.

“It was real. The only difference? The sparrow belonged to a cultivator.”

Ji Donglai said slowly: “So come back. Why waste your time with these commoners? You’re lowering yourself.”

“Only we are truly family—that’s the bond between cultivators,” Ji Donglai emphasized.

“Including Da Li Wang, just now killed by me?” Fang Can asked.

“Him? He killed his own two family members—that crossed the line. Criminals aren’t our family—they’re trash to be purged.”

“If Lan Huo Wang hadn’t thrown him into the Carnival Day, I’d have killed him long ago.”

Caught a cold, posted late—sorry…

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(End of Chapter)