Chapter Thirty-One: A Midnight Disturbance

"Yu... Chen!" Nangong Kexin's voice was choked with tears as she looked fearfully at Uncle Zhou advancing toward her, her body instinctively retreating. She had never faced anything like this before; trembling as she backed away, her heart was consumed with worry for her younger brother's safety. After all, to her, Nangong Yuchen was not just a sibling, but her only family and support.

"Kexin, run!" Nangong Yuchen shouted anxiously. But before him, Uncle Zhang and the other two had each drawn a short knife, forming a tight encirclement around him. He was not only unable to help Nangong Kexin, but now found himself in dire peril as well.

"Kid, you'd better worry about yourself!" Uncle Zhang sneered, raising his short knife as he slashed at Nangong Yuchen. Still aching from being thrown earlier, he attacked with a vicious, resentful force.

"Zhou Haoran!" Nangong Yuchen roared in fury. Seeing the glint of the silver blade swinging for his head, he quickly ducked and rolled aside. Mustering all his strength, he sprang toward where Nangong Kexin was.

But the two other middle-aged men gave him no chance. As he charged, their knives flashed, aiming directly for his head.

"Clang! Clang!" The two blades struck the ground in quick succession, leaving furrows a centimeter deep. Though Nangong Yuchen retreated just in time to dodge, Uncle Zhang had already closed in, forming a triangular formation with the others. After exchanging a glance, the three attacked in unison.

Nangong Yuchen had no way to meet their assault head-on—he could only leap and dodge with agility. Though he was already formidable among first-tier physical cultivators, without a weapon he stood no chance; it was impossible to block blades with bare arms.

Meanwhile, Uncle Zhou had closed in on Nangong Kexin. Seeing the trembling figure of the pure, beautiful girl before him, he smiled wickedly and stepped forward.

"Ah!" Nangong Kexin screamed in terror and turned to flee. She knew that if she stayed, she would only be a burden to her brother; better to run and at least draw one of the men away.

Tap, tap! She was already fast—29.4 meters per second—but in her fear she broke through her limits, surpassing thirty meters per second. In the blink of an eye, she had reached the intersection and was about to escape.

At that moment, Zhou Haoran called out, "Uncle Zhou, don't let her get away!"

He had no intention of letting the pure, beautiful girl slip from his grasp.

Uncle Zhou needed no prompting; he had never planned to let Nangong Kexin escape. At some point, a black pistol with a silencer had appeared in his right hand. Taking aim at the fleeing figure, a sinister smile curled on his lips.

A faint hiss—the trigger was pulled. A golden bullet tore through the air, gleaming under the weak night light as it sped toward Nangong Kexin, who was dozens of meters away.

In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her right leg, just lifted, was struck clean through by the bullet before it could touch the ground.

"Ah..." Nangong Kexin collapsed with a cry. Agonizing pain shot through her thigh, draining the color from her face and making her lips tremble. Her small hand pressed to the wound, quickly stained red by her own blood.

"Heh, with that pathetic speed you still thought you could get away?" Uncle Zhou scoffed, striding toward the intersection.

Wracked with pain, Nangong Kexin’s tears streamed silently down her face. But seeing the middle-aged man approaching, she bit her lip, forcing herself to her feet and staggered forward in another desperate attempt to escape.

"Still trying to run?" Uncle Zhou raised the gun again, this time aiming for her other leg, and fired. Nangong Kexin collapsed instantly. Now both her legs had been shot through. Her delicate face was as pale as paper, her beautiful eyes clouded with tears. She struggled not to cry aloud, but the relentless footsteps behind her sounded like the ominous tread of death.

Terror consumed her; she dared not imagine what would happen next.

Tap, tap! The footsteps drew closer. Nangong Kexin’s slender body trembled violently—instinctively, she clawed at the ground, dragging herself forward.

"Ah…" But in the next instant, she was lifted bodily off the ground.

Uncle Zhou, pistol in his right hand, grabbed Nangong Kexin by her long hair with his left. Ignoring her screams and struggles, he wrenched her backward, dragging her along the ground.

Blood streaked the path behind her, and her once-fair, delicate legs were reduced to a bloody, mangled mess by the relentless friction.

Finally, she could endure no more. She broke down, sobbing desperately, crying out Nangong Yuchen’s name in terror and pain.

"Kexin!" In the midst of battle, Nangong Yuchen heard her cries and spun around. Seeing his sister, blood-soaked and battered, nearly drove him mad.

This was the second time! The bloody scene at home was still vivid in his memory, and he had sworn never to let Kexin be harmed again.

But how long had it been? The nightmare had returned before his very eyes.

A sickening squelch—while he was frozen in shock, the three men seized their chance. With sinister grins, they plunged their knives into Nangong Yuchen's back.

"Hmph, you dare get distracted while fighting us?" Uncle Zhang and the others withdrew their blades, blood spraying, and kicked Nangong Yuchen to the ground. If not for Zhou Haoran’s desire to torment him personally, the trio would likely have finished him off then and there.

"Hahaha! Uncle Zhou, drag this brat over here. I want him to know a fate worse than death—and I'll torment his woman right in front of him!"

With both siblings subdued, Zhou Haoran’s face twisted with glee.

Last time, Nangong Yuchen had crippled him when he tried to assault Nangong Kexin in a tavern. But this time, he wanted the brother to watch it all happen, helpless.

Driven by his twisted need for revenge, Zhou Haoran approached Nangong Kexin and reached out with trembling hands, brushing aside her disheveled hair to reveal a face filled with terror and pallor.

Uncle Zhang, Uncle Zhou, and the other two middle-aged men could already imagine what would happen next. Smiles crept across their faces.

Thud! Thud!

Nangong Yuchen, lying on the ground, was not dead. He could hear the pounding of his own heart; the violent surge in his bloodline from a month ago had returned. Dark, intricate patterns began to emerge on his skin, though in the dim night, Zhou Haoran and the others did not notice.

"Ah... get away from me!" Nangong Kexin screamed in despair, struggling against the leering faces drawing nearer. Her brother lay in a pool of blood beside her, and the tragic scene felt horrifyingly familiar.

"Uncle Zhang, pick that brat up. I want him to watch, ha ha..." Uncle Zhang grinned, strode over, and grabbed Nangong Yuchen by the hair, hauling him upright.

But what met his gaze was a face covered in black markings and eyes burning blood-red.

Before he could cry out, Uncle Zhang felt a sudden, excruciating pain in his chest. Looking down in horror, he saw a clawed hand piercing his heart. His body went numb, consciousness fading. He died with his eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

"Uncle Zhang, what are you waiting for?" Zhou Haoran called impatiently, seeing him motionless.

With a thud, Uncle Zhang’s body crashed to the ground. In the same instant, a blood-soaked figure flashed to Zhou Haoran’s side, moving too fast for anyone to see. There was a shriek, a spray of blood, and Nangong Kexin was swept up in Nangong Yuchen’s arms as he shot into the darkness.

"Ah... my right hand!"

All of this happened in less than a second. The other three hadn’t even reacted before they saw Zhou Haoran’s right hand, severed cleanly at the wrist, bone and flesh exposed in a gory mess.

"You little bastard, you’re dead!" Uncle Zhou’s eyes bulged with fury. He had watched Zhou Haoran grow up, and now, in a blink, the boy’s hand had been cut off—how could he bear it?

He raised his gun and fired madly in the direction Nangong Yuchen had fled, but the siblings had already vanished into the darkness.

"Useless fools! Go after him—kill him, now!" Zhou Haoran howled in agony, clutching his wrist, rolling on the ground in torment. All traces of his former arrogance were gone.

Uncle Zhao and the remaining man turned pale, swallowed hard, and hurriedly chased after the vanished Nangong Yuchen, disappearing together into the dark.