Chapter 46: Utterly Defenseless

“You must take responsibility for your words, so I’ll claim your life for them,” Zhou Hu said coldly, his gaze sharp as he fixed his eyes on Yang Fan. He saw only disdain in Yang Fan’s eyes, which infuriated him.

Yang Fan met Zhou Hu’s stare with a detached indifference, as if his mind were elsewhere. “You talk too much,” Yang Fan replied icily.

With a vicious glare, Zhou Hu struck without hesitation. His fist hurtled forward, carrying a force so strong that it made the air crackle—a blow that would surely cripple any ordinary man. But Yang Fan did not even blink. Instead, he moved.

His right hand shot out, fingers arched like an eagle’s talon, and caught Zhou Hu’s incoming fist with uncanny precision. With a sudden jerk, Yang Fan pulled Zhou Hu toward him, the strength of his grip catching Zhou Hu off guard and causing him to stumble forward.

Zhou Hu’s face changed as he stepped out to steady himself, the ground beneath his foot splintering into fine cracks. Summoning all his strength, he tried to pull back, but the corner of Yang Fan’s mouth curled into a cold sneer as he tightened his grip.

A sharp crack rang out, followed by Zhou Hu’s pained scream. Yang Fan’s fingers had sunk deep into Zhou Hu’s fist, piercing to the bone. With his power nearing the middle stage of Qi Refinement, Yang Fan’s strength was a mountain Zhou Hu could never hope to scale. Empowered by spiritual energy, his fingers were as unyielding as steel.

Zhou Hu’s face drained of color; terror filled his eyes. He could not believe he had been defeated in a single move. Clearly, Yang Fan’s strength far surpassed his own.

With a surge of momentum, Yang Fan delivered a lightning-fast kick to Zhou Hu’s chest.

A dull thud echoed as Zhou Hu’s body was sent flying, crashing against the wall and leaving a deep dent. He felt as if every bone in his body was shattered, the pain unbearable. The moment he hit the ground, he spat out a mouthful of blood.

Everyone present was stunned by the scene.

Wei Yanhé trembled uncontrollably, fear gnawing at his heart. Zhou Hu, who he once believed to be his invincible guardian, was nothing but an ant before Yang Fan. Now, he knew he was doomed.

“Leave those men to you,” Yang Fan said to Wang Gang, glancing back.

Wang Gang snapped out of his daze, sucking in a quiet breath. Seeing his master dispatch Zhou Hu with such ease left him deeply shocked. He had expected Yang Fan to struggle, but the reality was far more astonishing.

“Brother, if you let me go, I’ll give you money—no matter how much, it’s yours,” Wei Yanhé pleaded desperately, terror etched across his face. “Please, I beg you, spare me.”

All hope of escape was gone; all he could do was beg for mercy. He had no confidence to run in front of Yang Fan.

“All of you must die,” Wang Gang replied coldly, his gaze fixed on Wei Yanhé with hatred. His own brother had been killed—how could he ever forgive these men? Only their deaths could ease the hatred in his heart. After all, none of these Scythe Society men were any good; leaving them would only bring more harm to the world.

“I’m a member of the Green Gang! If you dare kill me, be ready for their revenge!” Zhou Hu snarled, his expression twisted. “I admit your strength is great, but before the Green Gang you’re nothing. Their power is not something you can afford to provoke.”

As the disciple of the Green Gang’s leader, Zhou Hu still had some confidence. After all, the Green Gang was a powerful overseas syndicate, home to many experts. Even the best fighters from Yanhuang Country would think twice before crossing them.

“A petty Green Gang is nothing to me,” Yang Fan scoffed. As the God of Death, would he fear a minor power in a lower world? If he wanted someone dead, not a soul would survive.

“You dare kill me? The Green Gang will see you torn to pieces. Your family won’t be spared either!” Zhou Hu shouted, glaring at Yang Fan.

“Enough noise,” Yang Fan snorted.

His aura flared, becoming sharp and deadly. In a flash, he seized Zhou Hu by the throat and twisted—snapping his neck. Zhou Hu died with his eyes wide open, disbelief frozen in them.

Having killed Zhou Hu, Yang Fan turned and made his way downstairs.

Wang Gang’s eyes burned with hatred as he stared at Wei Yanhé. He moved, machete in hand, closing in.

“Stop him! Somebody stop him!” Wei Yanhé screamed, calling out to the Scythe Society members. But they had no interest in saving him—all they cared about now was their own lives, and they scattered in all directions.

Seeing this, Wei Yanhé was plunged into despair. He begged Wang Gang for mercy, even falling to his knees and kowtowing. But Wang Gang showed no mercy—he ended Wei Yanhé’s life with a single stroke.

With his vengeance complete, he quickly left the Cloud Pavilion with Yang Fan.

Soon, the police arrived and sealed off the premises. When they tried to access the surveillance footage, they found it already destroyed—no way to know what had occurred.

News of the Scythe Society boss’s death quickly spread among the major forces in River City.

Meanwhile, at the overseas headquarters of the Green Gang, the senior members gathered, each with anger written on their faces.

“Our Green Gang’s Yanhuang branch was wiped out, and the leader’s personal disciple was killed. If the boss blames us, none of us will bear the consequences,” one elder said gravely. The murder of the boss’s disciple was no trivial matter.

“Who dares make a move against our Green Gang?” another high-ranking member wondered. “Besides Yanhuang’s Dragon Shade, no one else would have the nerve.”

A middle-aged woman spoke up, “It’s unlikely to be Dragon Shade. We have an agreement: as long as we don’t send top leadership, Dragon Shade won’t interfere.”

The room erupted in discussion—none believed Dragon Shade was behind it, but no one could guess who dared strike at the Green Gang.

“Whoever it is, they must pay the price,” the elder said solemnly. “Send someone to Yanhuang to investigate. The culprit must be found.”

“Let Lei Kun go. He’s the best choice,” a councilor suggested.

“Agreed. Lei Kun is Zhou Hu’s senior and quite powerful. Let him handle it,” the grand elder nodded.

Yang Fan and Wang Gang left the Cloud Pavilion and checked into a hotel. There, Yang Fan passed on a cultivation technique to Wang Gang, instructing him in its practice. Of course, it was only a basic technique—Wang Gang, as a registered disciple not yet formally accepted, could only study an entry-level method.

Still, Yang Fan believed that even a simple technique would allow Wang Gang to grow rapidly in strength. In this world, such techniques were rare and would be highly sought after if word got out.

At first, Wang Gang struggled, so Yang Fan personally guided him. Under his master’s instruction, Wang Gang quickly grasped the essentials. Realizing the power of the technique, Wang Gang was astounded.

He felt fortunate, grateful to be Yang Fan’s disciple. Even as a registered disciple, he was content.