Chapter Ten: The First Birthday Gift!

1:00 AM.

The sky was awash with brilliant stars.

Most of the city had quieted down, but the “City that Never Sleeps” at the heart of Sun City was still ablaze with lights.

This was the most elite entertainment venue in Sun City, open from six in the evening until three in the morning.

It belonged to Yang Haishan, managed by Qin Feng.

In three days—no, now it was two—Yang Haishan would celebrate his 120th birthday. Qin Feng had returned to Sun City several days ago and was staying at the City that Never Sleeps.

The Yang family estate, located on the outskirts of Sun City, was the domain of the first wife. Naturally, Qin Feng would not visit prematurely and subject herself to humiliation.

Yang Ye had gathered all this information in a single day.

In the city’s wealthy circles, Qin Feng was a well-known figure, so news about her was easy to find.

Yang Ye sat quietly in a rented electric car, waiting.

It was already 1:00 AM. There were hardly any guests entering the club now; those who had gone in earlier were now leaving, arm in arm with beautiful women.

“Husband, why do all those men go in alone but come out with one or more women?” asked Long Xiaoqing, her eyes full of curiosity in the darkness of the car.

She had been observing this odd phenomenon for a while.

“Well...” Yang Ye paused, searching for words. “The men who come here are all rich. Those women want money from them, so they have to sleep with them.”

Long Xiaoqing now understood what money was. She pondered and asked, “But if it’s just sleeping together, why do the men have to pay?”

Yang Ye chuckled. “Because with those women, the men find satisfaction and pleasure. So they’re willing to spend money on them. It’s essentially a transaction.”

Long Xiaoqing nodded, half-understanding, and asked, “Husband, do you also like sleeping with women like that? Does it make you satisfied and happy?”

“Huh?”

“Of course not!” Yang Ye was momentarily taken aback, then quickly and solemnly declared, “No! Absolutely not! Not in this lifetime! Having you with me is enough. As for other women, I won’t even touch them!”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Long Xiaoqing darted out her tongue and licked his cheek, saying delightedly, “Husband, you’re wonderful!”

Yang Ye grinned, silently congratulating himself on his cleverness.

Not only had he answered her question, but he’d also made her very happy. Clearly, those romance films his master had brought back hadn’t been watched in vain!

Although Long Xiaoqing was not a human woman, and didn’t yet understand the ways of men and women, she was still capable of jealousy. It was instinctual.

Fearing more strange questions, Yang Ye glanced at his phone and said, “Xiaoqing, it’s time. You can go now.”

“Yes, husband!” Long Xiaoqing replied excitedly, then transformed into a streak of azure light and vanished into the darkness.

Less than ten minutes later, she returned and reported, “Husband, the woman you’re looking for is in Room 9 on the eighteenth floor. There are several cultivators on that floor, but they’re all much weaker than you.”

Yang Ye nodded, a cold smile forming on his lips. “Xiaoqing, let’s avenge our sister.”

“Mm!” Long Xiaoqing’s eyes flashed with a murderous gleam.

…

For a cultivator, entering a building from the outside was child’s play.

Long Xiaoqing kept watch ahead while Yang Ye, his face concealed, silently scaled to the rooftop.

He used his star force to snap the lock on the rooftop door and slipped inside.

Taking a seldom-used stairwell, Yang Ye made his way easily to the nineteenth floor.

In the stairwell leading down to the eighteenth, two black-clad bodyguards were smoking and chatting quietly.

Yang Ye raised his left hand, pinching two silver throwing knives between his fingers.

With just a glance, he flicked the blades.

With a soft thud, the knives embedded themselves precisely in the two men’s throats.

Their vocal cords destroyed, neither could utter a sound. Yang Ye darted forward, catching their falling bodies and laying them gently on the stairs.

“Xiaoqing, it’s done,” he said in his mind.

As soon as he spoke, the hallway lights went out.

Power failure!

This, of course, was Long Xiaoqing’s doing—she had severed the main power line in the basement with a swipe of her claw.

The emergency lights flickered on, but the illumination was much dimmer.

“The power’s out! You, go find out what’s happening!” came a middle-aged man’s voice from the corridor on the eighteenth floor.

Seizing the moment, Yang Ye burst out, his hands moving in rapid succession to hurl twelve throwing knives.

A series of dull thuds followed.

Ten men fell dead, only two cultivators dodged fatal wounds.

“Assassin!” someone shrieked.

Yang Ye knew he could not enter Qin Feng’s room unnoticed. His only choice was to end things quickly, preventing the cultivators downstairs from coming to reinforce.

In truth, this was not an ideal time to attempt an assassination. Many cultivators had already arrived in Sun City for Yang Haishan’s birthday, and some were being hosted by Qin Feng in this very building.

If they heard any commotion, they would rush up at once.

Cultivators were both vigilant and swift to react.

As the scream rang out, Yang Ye was already charging in with a short blade.

The two wounded cultivators stood in his way.

They were merely at the Meteor Stage—not a match for him.

With a single exchange, Yang Ye dispatched them. Yet in that brief instant, doors to either side of the corridor burst open and eight more cultivators rushed out.

All eight were at the Meteor Stage, two wielding large-caliber machine guns.

In this world dominated by cultivators, guns still had deadly power—especially those with specially made bullets that could pierce through a cultivator’s protective energy.

However, their effectiveness was limited to the Planetary Stage. Against those at the Stellar Stage, firearms were useless.

Yang Ye was still at the Planetary Stage, so the sight of the two gun-wielding cultivators gave him pause.

Still, he didn’t slow. He charged forward.

At the critical moment, a flash of azure light streaked through the corridor.

With two quick snaps, the heads of the gun-wielding cultivators tumbled from their necks before they could fire a shot.

Long Xiaoqing had arrived just in time, severing their necks with her sharp dragon claws.

The remaining six cultivators were momentarily stunned by the eerie appearance of the azure light.

Yang Ye seized the instant, slipping past them and crashing through the door of Room 9.

The six outside would be left to Long Xiaoqing.

Inside, Yang Ye saw a woman in pink pajamas staring at him in terror, her eyes wide.

In the dim light, the red mole on her chin stood out sharply.

“Qin Feng...”

Yang Ye spoke calmly.

“Who are you?” Despite the shrieks outside, Qin Feng struggled to keep her composure, gritting her teeth as she asked.

“Do you remember Yang Yu?” Yang Ye sneered.

“Yang Yu...” Qin Feng was still murmuring when Yang Ye stepped forward and struck her chest with his palm.

With a muffled sound, her body flew backward and landed heavily on the sofa.

She was not a cultivator—she could not withstand even a single blow from Yang Ye. She died instantly.

Originally, Yang Ye had planned to capture her and make her suffer.

He had at least a hundred ways to make her wish for death.

But after a moment’s thought, he decided to give her a quick end.

It was not that he lacked cruelty, but with Yang Haishan’s birthday approaching, he had no time for games.

He severed Qin Feng’s head, wrapped it in a cloth, stowed it in his storage ring, smashed open the window, and leaped out from the eighteenth floor.

Qin Feng’s head would be Yang Ye’s first birthday gift to Yang Haishan.