Chapter 65: Night of Bloodshed (Part 2)
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Chapter 65: Night of Bloodshed (Part 2)
It was nearly 11 p.m., and the roads were almost empty, allowing for smooth travel.
Chen Shouyi gazed out the window for a while before withdrawing his gaze. A thought crossed his mind—who would be setting off fireworks so late at night? He looked outside again and noticed the fireworks had already stopped.
A sudden sense of foreboding gripped him. "Dad, drive faster," he urged.
"The road's too dark. I'm already going 60 km/h. Any faster would be dangerous," Chen Dawei replied.
"Slower is better. A car accident would be disastrous," Chen Mu added.
Seeing his parents' insistence, Chen Shouyi didn’t press further. Driving too fast at night was indeed risky. Maybe he was just overthinking things, he told himself.
About ten minutes later, as they entered the highway, traffic grew even sparser. Minutes would pass without a single oncoming car. The city gradually faded behind them, swallowed by darkness. Chen Shouyi looked back at the shadowy silhouette of the place he had called home since childhood—a city imprinted with countless memories, including those of his first love.
He didn’t know when he’d return or when he’d see Zhang Xiaoyue again. To him, love was like a fleeting breeze on a scorching summer day—here one moment, gone the next without a trace.
As time passed, buildings gave way to farmland. Chen Dawei increased their speed to 70 km/h. "We should reach Pingqiu City in about half an hour."
"We’ll stay at a hotel tonight and look for a place tomorrow. I just hope we can find one this late," Chen Mu said.
"Worst case, we’ll sleep in the car," Chen Dawei replied.
With Pingqiu City nearing, the tense atmosphere that had lingered since their departure began to ease. Chen Shouyi glanced at Chen Xingyue and noticed her nodding off, her eyelids heavy. It was no surprise—after the day’s events, her nerves had been stretched taut. Now, with a moment of respite, exhaustion overtook her.
Just then, a beam of light pierced the rear compartment. Chen Shouyi turned and glimpsed a car speeding toward them through the blinding glare.
That must be over 100 km/h.
His heart sank. He nudged Chen Xingyue awake.
She jolted upright, startled. "Brother, what’s wrong?"
"Stay alert!" Chen Shouyi warned.
No sooner had he spoken than the rear window shattered. Gunfire rang in his ears. He immediately pushed Chen Xingyue’s head down. The car lurched violently—likely a blown tire—and swerved sharply to one side.
Screams filled the cabin, but Chen Dawei reacted swiftly, wrenching the steering wheel and slamming the brakes. The car screeched to a halt.
"Stay down! Don’t get out! Leave these people to me!" Chen Shouyi crouched low, shouting as he grabbed his war bow.
"Be careful!" Chen Mu said worriedly.
"Brother, stay safe."
Chen Shouyi didn’t respond. His breathing gradually deepened, his heart pounding violently.
The gunfire lasted for a while before stopping.
Then, he heard the sound of the enemy’s car coming to a halt.
Now was the moment!
Chen Shouyi took a deep breath, flung open the car door, and lunged out like a leopard.
Before he even steadied himself, he twisted his body, swiftly drew his war bow, and loosed an arrow with a sharp snap.
About 20 to 30 meters ahead, a black car was packed with people.
A gunman in the passenger seat had just reloaded and was reaching for the door, about to step out, when a lightning-fast arrow pierced through the windshield and impaled his skull.
The others in the car paled in horror and immediately ducked down.
Chen Shouyi’s expression was icy as he swiftly nocked another arrow and shot toward the driver’s seat.
The 500-pound war bow had terrifying power at close range. The car’s thin metal frame was as flimsy as tinfoil against such a strong bow. The arrow punched through the front hood near the window, pierced the plastic dashboard, and buried itself into the driver hiding behind it.
Chen Shouyi fired over a dozen arrows in rapid succession, turning the car into a porcupine bristling with shafts.
He tossed aside the war bow, drew his longsword, and strode toward the vehicle to check for survivors.
But after only a few steps— An unexpected turn of events.
With a deafening boom, the car door was sent flying several meters away, clattering loudly on the road.
A powerfully built man in a black suit stepped out from the back seat, holding a sword in one hand and an arrow in the other. He cracked his neck and clicked his tongue.
"Didn’t expect to run into someone of your caliber just by coming to take a look."
His steps were unhurried, his demeanor composed.
His gait was bizarre—though he walked step by step like an ordinary person, upon closer inspection, his body showed no vertical movement, remaining perfectly level like a straight line.
If one ignored his legs, it almost looked like he was gliding, yet it exuded an eerie sense of harmony.
"Figures those trash couldn’t handle it. Guess I’ll have to do it myself." He tossed the arrow aside. "Oh, right—you almost got me just now."
Chen Shouyi’s heart grew heavy, but he refused to back down. If this guy wanted to show off, so could he.
"Then you should be grateful you’ve lived a few seconds longer, trash! Lackey of the barbarian god! Traitor to humanity."
The black-suited man burst into laughter, as if provoked. "Hah! ‘Lackey.’ Still so young and naive. Pity you won’t live past tonight."
"Still running your mouth before death? Come on!"
Chen Shouyi sneered. With a metallic shing, he unsheathed his longsword, discarded the scabbard, and blurred into motion, lunging at the man in black.
Clang!
Sparks flew, and the sharp tang of iron filled the air.
Their blades clashed and parted in an instant.
The black-suited man deflected Chen Shouyi’s sword and stepped forward, slashing toward his throat.
His swordsmanship was refined beyond measure, far surpassing Chen Shouyi’s. Every strike was as elusive as an antelope’s horns—untraceable—yet fleeting as a passing swan, swift as lightning.
Fortunately, Chen Shouyi reacted faster, stepping to the right and tilting his body while thrusting his sword backward in a counterattack.
For a long time, he had held a misconception—believing that a Martial Artist’s Strength needed to be at least 12.7 points and that Agility had to reach the same level. In reality, improving Agility was several times harder than increasing Strength. It involved neural reaction speed, and the standard version of the Thirty-Six Body Refining Techniques could hardly enhance it effectively. Aside from continuous reaction training, one could only rely on innate talent.
The truth was, an Agility of around 12.3 was already the standard for a Martial Artist. Chen Shouyi’s Agility, however, was 13.2. Even though his opponent had long been a Martial Artist, Chen Shouyi’s reaction speed was a full three levels faster than the black-suited man’s—completely making up for his lack of Swordsmanship experience.
In the darkness, the two figures moved at high speed like phantoms, darting and weaving. Sword flashes streaked like lightning, occasionally bursting into sparks.
Apart from the initial overwhelming pressure, Chen Shouyi soon found the fight becoming easier, handling it with increasing ease.
A few seconds later, he swayed to evade the incoming sword slash, swiftly stepping past his opponent while gripping his sword in a reverse grip. The sharp blade, aided by his rapid movement, made a light, slicing motion.
The battle ended abruptly.
Both stood still, frozen in place.
"You—" The black-suited man barely uttered a single word before a faint, wet sound came from his abdomen. A mass of intestines spilled out from his belly. His body swayed, then he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
It was nearly 11 p.m., and the roads were almost empty, allowing for smooth travel.
Chen Shouyi gazed out the window for a while before withdrawing his gaze. A thought crossed his mind—who would be setting off fireworks so late at night? He looked outside again and noticed the fireworks had already stopped.
A sudden sense of foreboding gripped him. "Dad, drive faster," he urged.
"The road's too dark. I'm already going 60 km/h. Any faster would be dangerous," Chen Dawei replied.
"Slower is better. A car accident would be disastrous," Chen Mu added.
Seeing his parents' insistence, Chen Shouyi didn’t press further. Driving too fast at night was indeed risky. Maybe he was just overthinking things, he told himself.
About ten minutes later, as they entered the highway, traffic grew even sparser. Minutes would pass without a single oncoming car. The city gradually faded behind them, swallowed by darkness. Chen Shouyi looked back at the shadowy silhouette of the place he had called home since childhood—a city imprinted with countless memories, including those of his first love.
He didn’t know when he’d return or when he’d see Zhang Xiaoyue again. To him, love was like a fleeting breeze on a scorching summer day—here one moment, gone the next without a trace.
As time passed, buildings gave way to farmland. Chen Dawei increased their speed to 70 km/h. "We should reach Pingqiu City in about half an hour."
"We’ll stay at a hotel tonight and look for a place tomorrow. I just hope we can find one this late," Chen Mu said.
"Worst case, we’ll sleep in the car," Chen Dawei replied.
With Pingqiu City nearing, the tense atmosphere that had lingered since their departure began to ease. Chen Shouyi glanced at Chen Xingyue and noticed her nodding off, her eyelids heavy. It was no surprise—after the day’s events, her nerves had been stretched taut. Now, with a moment of respite, exhaustion overtook her.
Just then, a beam of light pierced the rear compartment. Chen Shouyi turned and glimpsed a car speeding toward them through the blinding glare.
That must be over 100 km/h.
His heart sank. He nudged Chen Xingyue awake.
She jolted upright, startled. "Brother, what’s wrong?"
"Stay alert!" Chen Shouyi warned.
No sooner had he spoken than the rear window shattered. Gunfire rang in his ears. He immediately pushed Chen Xingyue’s head down. The car lurched violently—likely a blown tire—and swerved sharply to one side.
Screams filled the cabin, but Chen Dawei reacted swiftly, wrenching the steering wheel and slamming the brakes. The car screeched to a halt.
"Stay down! Don’t get out! Leave these people to me!" Chen Shouyi crouched low, shouting as he grabbed his war bow.
"Be careful!" Chen Mu said worriedly.
"Brother, stay safe."
Chen Shouyi didn’t respond. His breathing gradually deepened, his heart pounding violently.
The gunfire lasted for a while before stopping.
Then, he heard the sound of the enemy’s car coming to a halt.
Now was the moment!
Chen Shouyi took a deep breath, flung open the car door, and lunged out like a leopard.
Before he even steadied himself, he twisted his body, swiftly drew his war bow, and loosed an arrow with a sharp snap.
About 20 to 30 meters ahead, a black car was packed with people.
A gunman in the passenger seat had just reloaded and was reaching for the door, about to step out, when a lightning-fast arrow pierced through the windshield and impaled his skull.
The others in the car paled in horror and immediately ducked down.
Chen Shouyi’s expression was icy as he swiftly nocked another arrow and shot toward the driver’s seat.
The 500-pound war bow had terrifying power at close range. The car’s thin metal frame was as flimsy as tinfoil against such a strong bow. The arrow punched through the front hood near the window, pierced the plastic dashboard, and buried itself into the driver hiding behind it.
Chen Shouyi fired over a dozen arrows in rapid succession, turning the car into a porcupine bristling with shafts.
He tossed aside the war bow, drew his longsword, and strode toward the vehicle to check for survivors.
But after only a few steps— An unexpected turn of events.
With a deafening boom, the car door was sent flying several meters away, clattering loudly on the road.
A powerfully built man in a black suit stepped out from the back seat, holding a sword in one hand and an arrow in the other. He cracked his neck and clicked his tongue.
"Didn’t expect to run into someone of your caliber just by coming to take a look."
His steps were unhurried, his demeanor composed.
His gait was bizarre—though he walked step by step like an ordinary person, upon closer inspection, his body showed no vertical movement, remaining perfectly level like a straight line.
If one ignored his legs, it almost looked like he was gliding, yet it exuded an eerie sense of harmony.
"Figures those trash couldn’t handle it. Guess I’ll have to do it myself." He tossed the arrow aside. "Oh, right—you almost got me just now."
Chen Shouyi’s heart grew heavy, but he refused to back down. If this guy wanted to show off, so could he.
"Then you should be grateful you’ve lived a few seconds longer, trash! Lackey of the barbarian god! Traitor to humanity."
The black-suited man burst into laughter, as if provoked. "Hah! ‘Lackey.’ Still so young and naive. Pity you won’t live past tonight."
"Still running your mouth before death? Come on!"
Chen Shouyi sneered. With a metallic shing, he unsheathed his longsword, discarded the scabbard, and blurred into motion, lunging at the man in black.
Clang!
Sparks flew, and the sharp tang of iron filled the air.
Their blades clashed and parted in an instant.
The black-suited man deflected Chen Shouyi’s sword and stepped forward, slashing toward his throat.
His swordsmanship was refined beyond measure, far surpassing Chen Shouyi’s. Every strike was as elusive as an antelope’s horns—untraceable—yet fleeting as a passing swan, swift as lightning.
Fortunately, Chen Shouyi reacted faster, stepping to the right and tilting his body while thrusting his sword backward in a counterattack.
For a long time, he had held a misconception—believing that a Martial Artist’s Strength needed to be at least 12.7 points and that Agility had to reach the same level. In reality, improving Agility was several times harder than increasing Strength. It involved neural reaction speed, and the standard version of the Thirty-Six Body Refining Techniques could hardly enhance it effectively. Aside from continuous reaction training, one could only rely on innate talent.
The truth was, an Agility of around 12.3 was already the standard for a Martial Artist. Chen Shouyi’s Agility, however, was 13.2. Even though his opponent had long been a Martial Artist, Chen Shouyi’s reaction speed was a full three levels faster than the black-suited man’s—completely making up for his lack of Swordsmanship experience.
In the darkness, the two figures moved at high speed like phantoms, darting and weaving. Sword flashes streaked like lightning, occasionally bursting into sparks.
Apart from the initial overwhelming pressure, Chen Shouyi soon found the fight becoming easier, handling it with increasing ease.
A few seconds later, he swayed to evade the incoming sword slash, swiftly stepping past his opponent while gripping his sword in a reverse grip. The sharp blade, aided by his rapid movement, made a light, slicing motion.
The battle ended abruptly.
Both stood still, frozen in place.
"You—" The black-suited man barely uttered a single word before a faint, wet sound came from his abdomen. A mass of intestines spilled out from his belly. His body swayed, then he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
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