Chapter 35: The Serpent Lies Low in the Sea, Becoming a True Dragon at Last

Shards of glass burst and scattered, revealing a gaping hole in the wall. Chen Yuyi strode in slowly, hands clasped behind his back, expressionless as he stood before them.

“So, you’re Mo Chengkong?” Chen Yuyi looked at Mo Chengkong and asked indifferently.

Cold sweat poured down Mo Chengkong’s forehead. Just then, he caught sight of Cen Qi dragging Zuo Qianhui over. In a flash, he lunged forward and seized Zuo Qianhui by the throat. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill her!”

Chen Yuyi glanced calmly at Zuo Qianhui.

Zuo Qianhui met Chen Yuyi’s gaze, her face full of comfort, as if all fear had vanished. Even with her neck gripped, a faint smile played on her lips, for she knew that Brother Yu would ensure her safety.

“You’re courting death!” Chen Yuyi’s eyes turned cold. With a flick of his hand, a surge of energy pulled Zhang Kangcheng toward him.

“No, please don’t!” Zhang Kangcheng screamed in terror.

Chen Yuyi suddenly pressed his hand onto Zhang Kangcheng’s head. Everyone present felt the air grow heavy.

“No, no, please don’t kill me! I’ll give you money, all my fortune! I was wrong, I was wrong, please don’t kill me!” Zhang Kangcheng begged desperately, his entire body limp, eyes brimming with regret.

How blind he had been to provoke such a terrifying figure! If given the chance to start over, he swore he would run as far away as possible, never daring to cross Chen Yuyi.

But there was no second chance.

Bang!

Chen Yuyi gave him no more time to speak—he crushed his head.

A cloud of blood mist dispersed into the air.

Dead silence reigned.

Even Mo Chengkong, ruthless as he was, felt a chill in his heart. He had not intended to harm Zuo Qianhui, but now his grip on her tightened involuntarily.

“I have no grudge against you. I just want to leave. Let me go, and they are yours to deal with as you wish. Don’t force me to hurt Qianhui!”

Huang Jie had already collapsed trembling to the ground, convinced his life was over. To think such terrifying people existed! Remembering all he had done to Chen Yuyi, he felt as good as dead already.

Cen Qi’s voice trembled as he pleaded with Mo Chengkong, “Master Mo, please don’t abandon me!”

Without warning, Mo Chengkong kicked him toward Chen Yuyi. “He has nothing to do with me. Kill him if you please.”

Cen Qi fell at Chen Yuyi’s feet, touching the headless corpse of Zhang Kangcheng. He sprang up, screaming, “Mo Chengkong, I’ve given my all for you, and this is how you repay me? Even in death, I won’t forgive you!”

Where he found the courage, no one knew, but he lunged at Mo Chengkong.

Though Mo Chengkong held Zuo Qianhui by the throat, it didn’t hinder his movements. He struck with a palm, energy surging outward. Cen Qi hadn’t even reached him before his chest caved in with a sickening crack—his heart shattered. He collapsed with his final breath of rage.

Chen Yuyi watched coldly, his face unmoved.

The sight before her had left Zuo Qianhui breathless with terror; now, as Mo Chengkong tightened his grip, her chest heaved violently.

“Let her go. You may leave.” Chen Yuyi spoke abruptly.

“You’ll really let me go?” Mo Chengkong asked, suspicion and hope mingled.

“I’ll say it only once,” Chen Yuyi replied, turning away, hands still behind his back.

“Very well! You are a Martial Lord. I hope you’ll keep your word!” Mo Chengkong was tempted, his grip loosening. “But I won’t let her go until I’m out of this house.”

With that, he dragged Zuo Qianhui downstairs. Chen Yuyi didn’t move.

Mo Chengkong retreated outside, believing himself safe. Glancing back at the window, seeing Chen Yuyi had not followed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Qianhui, I’m sorry. Uncle Mo has no choice. When I return with my master, I’ll come back for you!”

He released her.

Then he leapt away toward the distance.

Zuo Qianhui clutched her throat, doubled over coughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly caught a flash of dazzling white light.

When she straightened, she saw Mo Chengkong, not far off, frozen as if by some immobilizing force.

Ahead stood a familiar figure—Chen Yuyi. She stared in disbelief. Wasn’t he still in the house? How had he appeared here so suddenly?

Mo Chengkong’s mouth twitched as he managed to force out, “Didn’t you say you’d let me go?”

Chen Yuyi, hands behind his back, replied, “I said only that you could leave.”

“Can you tell me what technique this is?” Mo Chengkong’s eyes were glazing over, but he was desperate to know what had killed him.

“White Emperor’s Golden Sovereign Slash,” Chen Yuyi answered coolly.

“Good name.”

Slash!

Mo Chengkong’s body split in two!

Zuo Qianhui continued to stare, stunned.

Chen Yuyi approached her slowly. “It’s over. Don’t be afraid.”

Finally, Zuo Qianhui could no longer hold on. The night’s horrors had been too much—she, a pampered young lady, could not endure such carnage. Only her faith in Chen Yuyi had kept her standing. Now, as her mind relaxed, her legs gave way, her vision went black, and she fainted.

At the very instant she collapsed, Chen Yuyi caught her in his arms, lifted her gently, and strode away into the moonlight.

In a corner of the upstairs room, Huang Jie suddenly jolted awake—astonished he was still alive.

But as he gazed at the two corpses on the floor, an odd smile crept onto his face, uglier than weeping. “Chen Yuyi, do you wish me a fate worse than death? Fine, I’ll grant your wish. I’ll live on, no matter what!”

Before long, a raging fire swept through the manor...

...

By the time the morning light pierced the sky, Chen Yuyi had already returned Zuo Qianhui to her family. He had also been given the keys to a villa atop Green Mountain—an estate in the most expensive district of River City, where even the least desirable plot cost millions. The particular villa he now owned, Green Mountain Villa No. 1, couldn’t be bought with money alone; it had been reserved by Zuo Hongshan for a distinguished guest, but now it had been gifted to Chen Yuyi. He accepted without protest, sending Qin Guo ahead to arrange things, while he himself returned to Fujian Garden.

Shen Zhujun had just gotten out of bed.

“Where were you last night?” she asked, fresh from the shower, long wet hair draped over her shoulders, filling the air with a delicate fragrance. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her voice calm.

Chen Yuyi found it odd—she rarely took any interest in his affairs. He chuckled softly. “What else? Worked all night.”

Shen Zhujun studied him for a long moment. “Don’t you have something to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” A faint smile played at Chen Yuyi’s lips. His cold wife was acting out of character today.

“My company—why did the Bai family suddenly agree to stock our products? And what really happened that night?” Shen Zhujun had held these questions in for a long time; now, she could not restrain herself.

Chen Yuyi rubbed his nose. “How should I know? Besides, I’ve forgotten everything that happened that night. Or do you expect me to remember how wild you were?”

Shen Zhujun’s face froze, her lips twitching.

“I’m going to sleep,” Chen Yuyi said. He had no energy to banter with his cold wife.

He really was exhausted. The White Emperor’s Golden Sovereign Slash had nearly drained him dry. He could tell—at best, he could unleash the move twice in succession. The first time packed immense power; the second, he could barely manage. One foe was easy, but taking on many would be difficult. Still, that was no concern—for the technique was still new to him, and time was on his side.

He ignored Shen Zhujun and went to his room.

Shen Zhujun, for reasons she couldn’t explain, found herself furious at Chen Yuyi’s attitude. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it to the floor, stomping on it with such force that the once-soft cushion burst apart.

She stared, stunned. When had she become so strong?

And why was she so angry? Wasn’t he just something she’d bought, nothing more? Why waste her breath being upset at him? If he didn’t want to explain, so be it—she’d learn the truth someday.

Flipping her hair arrogantly, she went off to dry it, get dressed, and head to work.

In River City, there was an ancient-style street called Guhua Street.

Along this avenue of traditional buildings, old and renowned shops displayed rare treasures and antiques, while ancient craft workshops nestled between them. Street vendors lined the sides, and here and there, stalls offered fortune-telling and divinations.

“Madam, if my calculations are correct, you have a remarkable granddaughter, and your family’s fortunes will rise or fall with her—more precisely, with her marriage.”

At a stall bearing the sign “Three Readings a Day,” a fortune-teller explained the hexagram to an elderly woman.

Unlike the older practitioners on the street, this fortune-teller was young, dressed in a scholar’s robe, his manner refined and elegant, though his face was a touch pale—yet he radiated an extraordinary aura.

“Marriage? Are you saying that only with a worthy grandson-in-law can our family turn from decline to prosperity?” Though the old woman was well into her eighties, she was vigorous, her eyes sharp and lively, her silver hair showing traces of returning black.

“You’re not wrong. My granddaughter is indeed much better than her disappointing father, and she’s attracted the admiration of many accomplished young men. I was just planning to arrange a marriage for her with the son of a distinguished family. I suppose that’s the only way for our family to prosper again!”

“According to the hexagram, that is indeed the case,” the young diviner said thoughtfully.

“Is there something more, Master, that you cannot speak openly?” The old lady, dressed in a traditional Tang-style gown, carried herself with noble grace—clearly a matriarch of a great house.

“A hidden dragon bides its time beneath the sea, awaiting the day it will soar into the heavens,” the young fortune-teller murmured, his fingers tracing the lines of fate.