Five minutes earlier.
Li Feng left his hospital bed and stepped onto the small balcony, gazing at the brightly lit Tianhai City, feeling an unprecedented sense of ease.
Though he had faced constant troubles recently, compared to his previous life, these were practically a luxury. In his past life, he teetered on the edge of life and death every moment, where a single misstep could mean his end. Now, he at least had the power to protect himself and people who cared for him.
In this world, he had a family—something unthinkable in his past life. He now had a beautiful wife, parents, a home.
Thinking of Hu Yuanyuan, Liu Ruyan, and Xu Qing, a faint smile played on Li Feng’s lips.
Call him a womanizer or a romantic, but he would pursue those he liked. He didn’t want to leave any regrets in this life.
Perhaps Hu Yuanyuan and the others weren’t as beautiful as some women from his past life, but their genuine emotions filled him with happiness.
Looking at the starry sky, Li Feng’s thoughts drifted centuries ahead, to the execution of the Nuwa Plan.
“Crossing to this world is my greatest fortune,” he muttered. “One day, I’ll stand at the world’s pinnacle, complete the Nuwa Plan. It’s not impossible.”
As the Nuwa Plan’s executor, Li Feng knew its true significance. Though centuries early, he resolved to change the world with his strength, preventing the crisis Hua Xia would face. It was his way of repaying the future government’s years of effort and resources spent sending him to this era.
To alter history’s course, he needed absolute power, to stand at the world’s summit. Li Feng was confident in himself.
With that thought, he began practicing fists on the balcony. After so long in the VIP ward, aside from cultivating the Nine Heavens Heart Sutra, he hadn’t moved his body, feeling stifled.
Ha!
Li Feng let out a low shout, throwing a fierce punch, beginning his practice.
The balcony was small, so he avoided using true qi to prevent destroying it.
Swish, swish, swish…
The sound of breaking air echoed as Li Feng’s movements quickened, his figure blurring.
Whoosh!
Minutes later, he exhaled deeply, finishing a set of punches, feeling refreshed. Without using true qi, he was drenched in sweat, his clothes soaked. Shaking his head helplessly, he left the balcony to take a shower.
“If only Hu Yuanyuan were here, maybe we could’ve had a mandarin duck bath,” Li Feng mused, opening the balcony door.
Entering the ward, he casually closed the door, heading toward the bathroom.
At that moment, a flash of white light streaked by, carrying a chilling killing intent.
“Not good.”
Li Feng’s face changed, and he dodged to the side, rolling across the floor.
A figure appeared where he’d stood, a sharp long blade embedded in the door.
Li Feng slapped the floor, springing to his feet. He then noticed several uninvited guests in his room.
Three black-clad figures, their gazes cold, held long blades, staring at him icily. The white flash had come from their blades’ gleam.
Two of them, with shaved heads, bore gruesome scars on their faces, exuding killing intent. The third, with a braid and fair skin, had a butterfly etched on their face.
Seeing Li Feng evade their strike, the butterfly-faced figure snorted and charged, forming a triangular formation around him.
Li Feng clearly felt their intense killing aura. “Who are you?” he asked coldly.
“Who are we? The ones to kill you, obviously,” the butterfly-faced figure said in a chilling, androgynous voice. Li Feng barely discerned it was a woman.
“Kill me?” Li Feng sneered, his eyes glinting coldly. “You think you can kill me with your skills?”
“There’s no one I can’t kill,” the butterfly woman said, eyeing him like a corpse.
“I don’t know about that,” Li Feng retorted with a sneer. “But since you came here today, none of you will leave. Let me send you to hell.”
He wasn’t sure if these were the same assailants from the crossroads attack, but he suspected as much. This time, he’d ensure none escaped.
Before killing them, he wanted to know who sent them. An unknown enemy lurking behind was a ticking time bomb.
“Oh? Let’s see who kills who today,” the butterfly woman said coldly, barking, “Kill him.”
“Yes.”
The two scarred men roared, charging at Li Feng from both sides, their figures flashing into black shadows.
Li Feng’s pupils shrank, his expression growing serious. These men’s skills were formidable.
Experts, far stronger than Butler Wu or Master Wen he’d faced before. Whoever wanted him dead clearly thought highly of him to send such experts.
But no matter how skilled, they were only slightly better than Butler Wu. Killing him was a pipe dream.
Hmph!
Li Feng snorted, his true qi surging, his movement technique unfolding. He split into two shadows, meeting their charge.
The scarred men were stunned. How could one person become two shadows, and so fast?
As the shadows flashed past, they merged behind the men. Li Feng reappeared, a cold smile on his lips.
The scarred men felt a sharp pain in their arms, blood spurting out. Looking down, they saw deep, bone-exposing wounds, blood gushing.
Turning, they saw Li Feng’s mocking gaze.
“You’re an ancient martial artist?” one asked, shocked and disbelieving. They’d heard of ancient martial artists’ fearsome power, capable of moving mountains and seas.
Facing a possible ancient martial artist shook them. They were confident against ordinary foes, but not legends. If Li Feng wasn’t one, they might have a chance; otherwise, survival was doubtful.
The more one knows, the more one fears. Without knowledge of ancient martial artists, they wouldn’t be so terrified.
Li Feng saw their fear, realizing their “ancient martial artist” meant a martial cultivator. The government likely suppressed such cultivators, calling them ancient to deny their legitimacy. Only in the cosmic era, with humanity’s evolution, did the term lose its “ancient” prefix.
“Exactly, I’m an ancient martial artist. Killing you is child’s play,” Li Feng said coldly. Strictly speaking, he was a martial cultivator. His technique, Phantom Ninefold, had nine levels; at the ninth, it produced nine shadows. He was only at the second, creating two.
Unfortunately, at this stage, it only caused minor harm. To kill, he’d need the ninth level with other techniques.
But he was content. Movement techniques were for evasion, not combat.
“You dare try to kill an ancient martial artist? You don’t know the meaning of death,” Li Feng taunted, seeing their fear. “Those who target ancient martial artists never end well. I’ll give you a chance. Tell me who sent you, and I might spare you.”
The scarred men wavered, stunned by his identity. No wonder so many died at his hands at the crossroads; an ancient martial artist made sense.
“Hmph, ancient martial artist or not, so what? No one we can’t kill, not even you,” the butterfly woman sneered, addressing the scarred men. “Don’t forget your mission. Ancient martial artist or not, can’t they die? Go, kill him.”
The scarred men exchanged glances, helplessness in their eyes, roaring as they charged again.
Their strength wasn’t weak, but compared to Li Feng, it was worlds apart. Their fate was sealed.
“Kill!”
They roared, their blades slashing at Li Feng’s chest, swift as lightning, gleaming coldly.
