The door to Sun Wu’s office wasn’t fully closed, hanging ajar. Ye Qiu approached quietly and peeked inside.
There were twenty to thirty people in the room.
Ye Qiu spotted Sun Wu immediately.
Sun Wu, Old Huang, the youth called Xiao Yu, and a few Green Wolf Gang disciples were surrounded by a group from the Witch God Cult.
Several corpses lay on the floor—all Green Wolf Gang members.
The leader of the Witch God Cult was a short, black-robed old man exuding a dark, sinister aura.
“Who the hell are you people?”
“I, Sun Wu, have never offended you. Why are you attacking my Green Wolf Gang headquarters?” Sun Wu demanded sharply.
Clearly, he didn’t yet know these were Witch God Cult members.
The short old man grinned eerily. “Your Green Wolf Gang has no past grudges or recent enmity with us. We’re slaughtering your headquarters today simply because I find you displeasing.”
What kind of reason was that?
Sun Wu didn’t buy it. “Are you from Dragon Gate?”
He asked because, in his mind, only Dragon Gate would dare storm the Green Wolf Gang’s base.
“Dragon Gate?” The old man snorted. “What’s Dragon Gate? Just a rabble of nobodies.”
That made Sun Wu realize these weren’t Dragon Gate people.
Even more puzzled, he pressed, “If you’re not from Dragon Gate, then who are you?”
“Who we are doesn’t matter. What matters is that after today, Suhang will no longer have a Sun Wu or a Green Wolf Gang.”
The old man smirked. “I’m here to kill you and wipe out your gang.”
“Even if you’re going to kill me, can’t you at least tell me who you are so I can die knowing?” Sun Wu said, hoping that identifying them might open a chance to negotiate.
But he underestimated the old man’s resolve.
“At this point, why bother with words? Sun Wu, just die!”
As the old man spoke, two Witch God Cult disciples behind him charged at Sun Wu with machetes.
Xiao Yu flashed forward, blocking their path.
His skills were impressive—within a dozen moves, he’d severely injured both cultists.
Sun Wu’s confidence surged. Staring at the old man, he said, “Killing me won’t be that easy.”
“You’re so naive. Killing you is easier for me than squashing an ant,” the old man replied.
He raised a hand and made a gesture.
A youth stepped forward from behind him.
The youth, not yet thirty, was rail-thin like a bamboo pole, sporting a mohawk with the top dyed white. He wore a filthy leather jacket that looked unwashed for years, reeking so badly that even Ye Qiu, standing outside, caught the stench.
“Damn, this guy’s hygiene is atrocious!” Ye Qiu cursed inwardly.
Boom!
The youth moved suddenly, lunging like a tiger down a mountain, throwing a swift punch at Xiao Yu.
“Here we go!”
Xiao Yu roared, meeting the punch head-on.
Bang!
Their fists collided in midair with a loud crack, each staggering back five steps.
Xiao Yu’s face grew solemn. That single exchange told him this youth’s strength was terrifying.
“Not bad. The Green Wolf Gang finally has someone decent,” the youth said, his eyes blazing with battle lust. He beckoned Xiao Yu with a finger. “Come on, let’s fight three hundred rounds!”
The old man snapped coldly, “White-Headed Weng, don’t waste time.”
“Yes, sir,” the youth replied respectfully, then looked at Xiao Yu with regret. “I wanted to go three hundred rounds with you, but Left Envoy says no. Guess I’ll just send you to the underworld.”
Left Envoy?
Ye Qiu’s eyes flicked to the old man. This guy was the Witch God Cult’s Left Envoy?
He recalled the last time he’d taken down Poison Scorpion, the cult’s Right Envoy.
At that moment, White-Headed Weng moved again, faster than before, reaching Xiao Yu in a blink and swinging a fist.
Xiao Yu didn’t back down, countering immediately.
The two clashed fiercely.
In fewer than thirty moves, a loud “bang” rang out. Xiao Yu was sent flying, crashing to the ground and spitting blood, his face deathly pale.
“Die!”
White-Headed Weng charged with murderous intent, stomping toward Xiao Yu’s face.
If that foot landed, Xiao Yu wouldn’t just die—he’d be disfigured.
Just as the foot was twenty centimeters from Xiao Yu’s face, a deep shout echoed.
“Get lost!”
Old Huang struck, grabbing White-Headed Weng’s ankle in a flash and flinging him aside.
The youth slammed into the wall, blood streaming from his head.
Old Huang helped Xiao Yu up. “You okay?”
Xiao Yu shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you, Master.”
“Step back. I’ll handle this,” Old Huang said, then turned to the old man. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re from the Witch God Cult, right?”
“Ho, good skills and sharp eyes,” the old man chuckled.
Sun Wu’s heart jolted.
The Witch God Cult?
“We’ve never crossed paths with your cult. Why are you targeting me?” Sun Wu demanded.
The old man smiled faintly. “Does the Witch God Cult need a reason to act?”
That single sentence left Sun Wu speechless.
True enough—the Witch God Cult was notorious for its atrocities: burning, killing, looting, no evil left undone. Once they set their sights on you, your fate was grim.
“I don’t care why your cult wants to destroy the Green Wolf Gang,” Old Huang said. “I have one request: let Fifth Master and Xiao Yu go. Take my life instead.”
“Facing death and still trying to negotiate? Laughable.”
The old man eyed Old Huang. “Your skills are decent, on par with Dragon List fighters, but against me, you’ve only one path—death.”
“You’ll die today.”
“Sun Wu will die.”
“Every Green Wolf Gang member in this room will die.”
“The Witch God Cult excels at extermination!”
With that, the old man crossed his fingers in front of him, rapidly shifting through gestures.
No one could decipher what he was doing.
Old Huang frowned in confusion. He’d seen a lot in his time, yet he couldn’t figure out the old man’s intent.
But he knew this opponent was no pushover.
A moment later, Old Huang sensed a dangerous aura closing in. As he prepared to act, the old man pointed at him and barked, “Fall!”
Clang—
Old Huang collapsed to the ground.
