Fang Yuan stared at them for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't cruel but ut wasn't a smug either.
It was warm. Friendly and amost… pitying.
And somehow, that was worse.
"Ah… this is awkward," he said lightly, rubbing his jaw.
The patrolmen tensed.
"I had this whole low-profile thing going on," he continued, as if they weren't drawing closer. "You know—wandering cultivator, mysterious drifter, hiding my cultivation base. Classic stuff."
The younger guard snapped, voice sharp and shaken:
"Shut up and drop the gold!"
But Fang Yuan didn't even flinch. He just kept talking, fingers tugging at his fake mustache.
"Look at this thing. Scratchy as hell. It's been killing me all day."
With a soft pop, he peeled the mustache off, revealing a youthful, clean-cut face beneath, still smiling.
The lead guard blinked. "Wha—"
He never finished the word.
BOOM.
Not an explosion.
Just the sound of displaced air, of a body moving faster than their eyes could track.
