A soft chuckle filled the room, shattering the intimate atmosphere like a stone cast into a still lake.
"Carved from moonlight'? 'Wet'? Ahaha… This is amusing."
Without invitation, an old man strode in, his expensive robe swaying with each step. He was tall and muscular for his age, his sagely appearance marked by a long beard that reached his chest. The faint scent of herbs and alchemical pills clung to him, unmistakable to anyone familiar with cultivation. His eyes, sharp with wisdom and mischief, twinkled as he took in the flustered duo before him.
Yue Lian, face burning, took one last glance at Wei Feng before hastily turning on her heel and disappearing through the door, her steps quick but not without a hint of a smile.
Wei Feng exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He turned to the old man, his voice dripping with irritation.
"Alright, old man, now you've made me angry. Why did you have to cockblock me?"
The elder laughed heartily, unfazed. *"Young man, you sure are lively despite losing so much blood." He took a seat at the bedside, crossing his arms. "I only interrupted because I bring important news: that bat-eared bastard you defeated? He's already been released."
Wei Feng's playful annoyance vanished instantly. His expression turned cold, calculating.
"Already? That means there's police corruption involved," he muttered.
The old man nodded. "Indeed. He spent barely an hour in a cell before they let him out. This city has its fair share of secrets."
Wei Feng leaned back against the pillows, his mind working quickly. The bat-man wouldn't let things go. Worse, if he had reported what happened, the prey he was after—the true target—would be warned.
"Tch. Just got a lot harder."
The old man grinned. "Come now, don't sulk. Being in a foul mood will only give you wrinkles. Let's get some breakfast. It's early morning, and you'll think better on a full stomach."
---
The sterile scent of the hospital was soon replaced by the warm aroma of freshly cooked food. They now sat in a high-end restaurant, where steam rose from porcelain bowls, and well-dressed waiters moved swiftly between tables. Despite the luxurious surroundings, Wei Feng had shed his disguise. His true form—noble, cold, and undeniably handsome—drew more than a few glances. His pale complexion and sharp features gave him an almost vampiric allure, his crimson eyes reflecting the candlelight like polished rubies.
The old man smirked as he sipped his tea. "No need for disguises anymore. The prey has already walked deep into the nest."
Wei Feng rolled his eyes. "You say that like it's a good thing."
The elder's smirk widened. "You must not realize how much prestige a Blood Stream disciple holds. For example, this very Moonshadow Pavilion? It's merely a sub-sect of ours."
Wei Feng's fingers paused on his chopsticks. "Tch. Figures."
"That means," the old man continued, "you and I can waltz in like guest disciples, access techniques, enjoy the resources… It's all within our rights." He took another sip. "Of course, our sect always plants disciples within these sub-sects to keep an eye on them. Can't have them getting any ideas about rebellion, after all."
Wei Feng scoffed. "I'm not exactly proud of being a Blood Stream disciple, old man. If anything, I'm neutral." He stabbed a piece of meat with his chopsticks. "Especially when the sect treats outer disciples like trash."
The old man chuckled but said nothing, instead continuing his meal. After a moment, he casually added, "By the way, you don't have to worry about the police anymore."
Wei Feng glanced up. "What do you mean?"
The elder smirked. "I pulled some strings."
Wei Feng narrowed his eyes. "Bribes?"
The old man shrugged. "Bribes, blackmail, a little bit of both. The usual methods. The moment you walked into the hospital, you were technically under investigation for a violent crime. But thanks to my connections, your name's been cleared."
Wei Feng exhaled, setting his chopsticks down. A moment of silence passed before he muttered, "…Thanks, old man."
The elder grinned. "Oh? I didn't expect you to actually say it."
Wei Feng rolled his eyes. "Tch. Don't get used to it."
The old man simply chuckled, lifting his tea once more.
After a moment, Wei Feng's nose twitched. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the elder. *"Oi… You smell like women's perfume."*
The old man nearly choked on his tea. *"Hmph! I'll have you know that's merely the lingering scent of medicinal herbs! Alchemy requires certain fragrances—"*
Wei Feng smirked. *"Riiight. So every pill concoction disciple is a womanizer, huh?"*
The elder scowled, waving his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! For example, our peak master only has six women!"
Wei Feng arched a brow. "And they're all his disciples?"
The old man hesitated. "…Yes, but that's beside the point."
Wei Feng just shook his head, hiding a grin as he returned to his meal. This city was proving to be more entertaining than expected.
The atmosphere shifted. The warmth of tea and quiet laughter vanished, replaced by the suffocating grip of darkness.
A dimly lit chamber. The flickering of a dying candle. A stench of blood and rot.
The Bat Man knelt on the cold stone floor, his once-proud frame broken and battered. His ribs ached, his fangs cracked, and bruises covered his body. His breath came in ragged gasps. The memory of being beaten with a dwarf-club haunted him, every strike still ringing in his skull.
Yet he forced himself to speak. "Boss… I couldn't kill him. A new bounty hunter—he's strong. But…" He raised a trembling hand, holding a bloodied cloth. "I got his blood. With this, our sage can divine his identity."
The room was silent.
Then, a deep, guttural chuckle echoed.
From the darkness, two enormous yellow eyes gleamed with malevolence. Their owner was a towering figure—three meters tall, massive horns curving from his skull. His presence alone made the air heavy, suffocating.
"So you couldn't handle a mere wolf cub." His voice was low, filled with disdain.
The Bat Man's stomach twisted. He collapsed forward, pressing his forehead to the floor. "Boss, please, no! I—"
His plea was cut short.
A sharp crack filled the room as ice surged over his body. It was slow—agonizingly slow. He could feel it creeping up his legs, freezing his nerves, trapping him in its embrace.
Within moments, he was nothing more than a frozen statue. His final expression—one of terror—was perfectly preserved within the ice.
The horned figure scoffed. "Useless."
From the shadows, a man stepped forward. His presence was far less monstrous but no less dangerous. He was middle-aged, dressed in dark robes embroidered with silver waves—the mark of the Moonshadow Pavilion.
He bowed slightly. "Boss, don't worry. The bounty hunter is mine."
The horned figure grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Good. Show me why you deserve to be my right hand, Zhou Kai."