Before Lin Feng even finished his sentence, he began to move. As he uttered those final words, Wang Ziheng and Lao Yi—closest to him—already sensed something was wrong and tried to retreat. But it was far too late.
With a simple wave of each hand, a flash of blood-red light streaked through the air. Lao Yi fell backwards—his head cleanly severed from his neck. The fountain of blood that erupted painted the entire back wall in crimson.
Though Wang Ziheng had questionable character, his combat ability was on par with any of the Bureau's directors (except Wu Rendi). The instant Lin Feng struck, Wang had already sprung to his feet and leapt backward. Even so, a sharp tearing sound echoed through the cave as a long gash opened across his chest, slicing clean through his protective innerwear. Blood soaked through immediately, and Wang staggered, barely upright, until Po Jun rushed forward to catch him.
Meanwhile, I had already strung the crossbow Sun Fatty gave me and loaded a bolt. Without hesitation, I aimed at Lin Feng's forehead and pulled the trigger. The bolt shot out like lightning, straight for his brow.
But just before it landed, Lin Feng raised his right hand and waved it casually. The bolt vanished midair. He sneered, "Good weapon—but wasted in your hands."
With that, he opened his palm and revealed the very bolt I had fired. "You and Sun Desheng already tried this on me once. It didn't work then, and it sure won't now." He flicked his wrist and sent the bolt flying straight back at my head.
His throw packed just as much power as the crossbow. Fortunately, I'd already tossed the crossbow aside after the first shot and drawn both my short sword and pistol. As he released the bolt, I fired a shot. A sharp crack rang out as my bullet intercepted the returning bolt in midair. I didn't stop there—emptied the rest of the clip straight at Lin Feng.
But none of it mattered. The bullets sank into him as if falling into water, not even causing a ripple. Once I was out of ammo, he smiled calmly and said, "Clever—using gunfire to alert the people down the mountain. But let me save you the suspense. I placed a Silencing Barrier at the cave entrance when I arrived. Even if you blow this whole place up, no one will hear a thing."
As he spoke, Lin Feng stood up, brushing the dust off his pants. "Originally, I just wanted your help retrieving something from Level Five of the underground vault. But since you know more than you should… I'll have to find another candidate. You're rare, but not irreplaceable. If you want to blame someone, blame Wu Mian. He shouldn't have buried fragments of Xiao Sanda's soul into your body. Some truths… are fatal."
Before he could make another move, Po Jun—still holding Wang Ziheng—shouted to me, "Lazi! Is Lin Feng the Shadow?" Although Po Jun hadn't witnessed the Shadow's two previous appearances firsthand, Sun Fatty hadn't kept him in the dark. Po Jun knew enough to connect the dots.
Without taking my eyes off Lin Feng, I nodded. Po Jun let out a deep breath, shoved his pistol into Wang Ziheng's waistband, and drew a short sword from behind his back.
The sword looked strange—like it had once been a longsword, broken and reforged as a short blade. But the hilt and guard seemed familiar. Lin Feng noticed it too. His face darkened slightly as he sighed, "So the Half of the Heaven-Swallowing Sword ended up with you. I thought it was buried with your uncle. That sword broke not long after he passed. Director Xiao believed he'd connected with the Sword Spirit and wanted to bury both halves with him. Looks like your family held onto it after all. Never seen you use it before—High Director Gao must've given it to you recently, huh?"
Only then did I recognize it—Po Jun's sword was indeed a scaled-down version of the Heaven-Swallowing Sword once wielded by Big Puh. Po Jun didn't respond. He simply leveled the blade at Lin Feng.
At that moment, Wang Ziheng slumped weakly onto Po Jun's shoulder. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Lin Feng didn't rush. Instead, he backed toward the cave entrance, retrieving from his pocket a handful of powder that looked like ash from incense. He sprinkled it just outside the cave.
As the rain soaked the powder, it erupted into thick yellow smoke. Despite the downpour, the smoke didn't dissipate. It grew thicker, quickly sealing off the entire cave entrance. Fortunately, the Yellow Mist swirled only outside the cave and didn't flow inward.
As the yellow mist sealed the entrance, Lin Feng stepped forward a few paces, giving up his position at the doorway. Then he slowly began walking toward us. Holding short swords in our hands, Po Jun and I lacked the strength to confront him head-on. All we could do was retreat in step with his approach. Every time Lin Feng took a step forward, Po Jun and I had to drag Wang Ziheng a step backward. After several steps, we found ourselves backed into the inner chamber.
Seeing there was nowhere left to retreat, Po Jun suddenly tapped my hand as he supported Wang Ziheng. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye—he was still focused on Lin Feng—but Wang Ziheng, who had seemed on the brink of death, opened his eyes just slightly and gave me a determined look, as if it were his final decision.
Before I could understand what he was planning, Po Jun made his move! With a sharp "crack," a flash of cold light shot from his short sword straight into Lin Feng's chest. Lin Feng clearly hadn't expected this move, and the cold light was too fast for him to react. It struck him squarely in the chest.
Only then did I realize it was half a broken sword blade that had embedded itself in Lin Feng's chest. He grunted, clearly in pain—unlike the bullets that had done him no harm, this short sword seemed to cause him real agony. He stumbled back several steps, leaving the passage between chambers open. Looking at Po Jun's weapon now, only a bare hilt remained. So the blade had been used as a hidden projectile. But what puzzled me was why Po Jun would hand the empty hilt to Wang Ziheng.
After landing that blow, Po Jun shouted, "Run for it!" Before his voice faded, he had already hurled the barely-breathing Wang Ziheng at Lin Feng, then grabbed me and bolted toward the outer chamber.
Just as Wang Ziheng was flung forward, he came back to life like a different person. His eyes flew open, and his deathly pale face turned blood red. Using the force of Po Jun's push, he leapt up and, like a madman, swung the sword hilt at Lin Feng's head.
Just before the empty hilt could strike Lin Feng, something inside it clicked—"snap"—and a three-inch-long blade sprung out like a switchblade. Lin Feng had completely underestimated Wang Ziheng, keeping all his attention on us. As a result, he reacted too slowly to Wang's sudden frenzy.
By the time he realized the short blade was inches from his face, it was too late. Wang Ziheng, using the last of his strength, brought the blade down like an axe, slashing deep into Lin Feng's face. Then, with blood spewing from his mouth, he collapsed with Lin Feng to the ground.
Po Jun and I had already reached the outer chamber. When we saw Wang Ziheng bring Lin Feng down, I wanted to go back and pull Wang out. But Po Jun grabbed my collar and growled, "Lin Feng's not dead…" That part, I expected. But what he said next carried a trace of despair: "Old Wang's beyond saving."
As he spoke, Po Jun dragged me to where Lao Yi's body lay. Just minutes ago, the four of us had been chatting and laughing. Now one had been beheaded, and another was nearly dead. There was no time to mourn, though. Po Jun gritted his teeth and hoisted Lao Yi's headless corpse off the ground.
With his towering frame, lifting Lao Yi wasn't difficult. I was still wondering what he planned to do when he marched to the cave entrance and, with a sudden swing, hurled Lao Yi's corpse into the yellow mist.
The mysterious mist instantly engulfed the corpse. Within seconds, Lao Yi's body began to bubble with yellow blisters, which burst to release a thick yellow mucus. The more the blisters burst, the more of that slimy fluid oozed out, until his entire body dissolved into sludge, leaving only a skeleton behind.
The yellow mist that had sealed the entrance now looked thinner where the corpse had crashed into it. But even in this weakened state, the mist was still far too toxic for us to pass through. Just then, from the inner chamber, came a cracking noise—"crack, crack"—just as Po Jun had predicted: Lin Feng wasn't finished yet.
We stared at the yellow mist thickening again. Its power was greater than Po Jun had hoped. Throwing Lao Yi's body had been in vain. All Po Jun could do now was glare at the barrier, helpless.
"This isn't the fake one you saw at Hao Wenming's…" Lin Feng's voice suddenly rang out from behind us. "This Soul-Devouring Wolf Mist was originally prepared for Yang Jun. Even he couldn't escape it—what chance do you two have?"
Lin Feng staggered out from the inner chamber. A fresh wound ran from his brow to his lip, split open to expose bloody flesh. Blackish-purple blood dripped steadily down his face. In his hand, he held the short sword Po Jun had passed to Wang Ziheng. His appearance was utterly grotesque.
But what truly stunned me was what I saw on Lin Feng's back—Wang Ziheng was still there. His arms and legs were wrapped tightly around Lin Feng's neck and waist, locked together like a human rope.
With this burden, Lin Feng's every step was laborious. Dozens of bloody gashes crisscrossed Wang Ziheng's limbs, likely inflicted by Lin Feng. Yet even with those wounds, his grip hadn't loosened one bit. If not for Wang Ziheng clinging to him, this cave might have already become a slaughterhouse.
Wang Ziheng's eyes, however, were now glassy and lifeless—no longer the gaze of the living.