Chapter 270 - 262: A Telegram to the Xin Republic

Chapter 270: Chapter 262: A Telegram to the Xin Republic

The man in the Zhongshan suit moved through the air like a swooping hawk, the long, bamboo-hilted blade in his hand erupting with an incomparably blinding light.

He spun the blade, and for an instant, it was as if a bright, full moon had risen in the sky.

In the space of a breath, he brought a scintillating silver torrent down upon the young man on the staircase!

"Liu Shengsang is the prized disciple of East Asia’s greatest Sword Saint! The sword in his hand can strike a bird from the sky and split bullets and cannonballs!"

The man with the toothbrush mustache leaned against the fourth-floor railing, his eyes gleaming as he watched the man in the Zhongshan suit descend. He laughed with pride, "Even in East Asia, Liu Shengsang is ranked among the top five masters of the sword!"

Listening to the man, Nan Xiangcheng’s expression settled slightly. He forced an agreeable smile, but he couldn’t help but remember the three from the Black Tower who had died earlier.

His relationship with Fan Wuyan and the other two from the Black Tower had been one of mutual convenience. He hadn’t given their deaths a second thought.

Now, however, a different thought entered his mind: ’Wen Zhiqiu has masters working for him, and this Worren has them, too. After this, I really need to find a powerful expert or two to serve as my bodyguards.’

’A situation like this must never happen again.’

As he mused, the silver light of the blade, which illuminated the entire grand hall, descended with the man in the Zhongshan suit!

The slash created a powerful tearing sensation in all who witnessed it, as if the very scene before their eyes was being ripped in two like a sheet of paper.

But amid the shock, the light of the blade dimmed rapidly as it fell...

On the staircase leading from the second to the third floor, thick, dark, turbid plumes of miasma had appeared from nowhere. Like a living entity, the miasma coiled around the man in the Zhongshan suit.

Wrapped in the miasma, he was like a man caught in a mire, his descent slowing to a bizarre crawl.

The man held the bamboo-hilted steel blade high with both hands, his brow furrowed. He seemed to be using all his strength, yet he was utterly unable to complete the downward strike.

On the fourth-floor walkway, the man with the toothbrush mustache, who had just been boasting, froze. He took a sharp step forward, gripping the railing and shouting with grave concern, "Liu Shengsang!"

Hearing the voice, the man in the Zhongshan suit let out a furious roar.

The next second, a terrifying Sword Qi erupted from his body, stretching his Zhongshan suit so tight that the buttons popped and flew off. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his face twisted into a demonic snarl!

The light from the stalled, bamboo-hilted steel blade flared, instantly repelling a patch of the miasma!

The man in the Zhongshan suit gripped his blade with both hands and brought it down in a vicious chop.

The miasma, dense as a cloud, was parted by the Sword Qi. The long blade descended slowly, and finally... landed gently on the collar of a suit as white as fresh snow!

"CRACK—"

A crisp sound echoed.

The ferocious expression on the face of the man in the Zhongshan suit abruptly froze.

Standing on the fourth floor, the man with the toothbrush mustache, who had been staring intently at the magnificent strike, was also stunned.

Everyone saw it: the gleaming steel blade that had struck the shoulder of the young man in the white suit suddenly shattered. Countless fragments fluttered upward like startled silver butterflies...

Beneath the dark, turbid miasma, the young man in the white suit glanced at his shoulder, then raised his calm gaze back to the man before him.

The man met those eyes, so close and as still as the water in an old well. He flinched and instinctively began to speak, "You..."

He didn’t finish.

"CRACK—THUD!"

A muffled impact!

The man was flung backward at ten times the speed he’d arrived, ultimately embedding himself deep into the wall between the third and fourth floors with a sickening CRUNCH.

His chest was completely caved in. He coughed up mouthful after mouthful of blood before his head lolled to the side, his face a mask of shock and indignation. He was dead, stuck to the wall.

"Liu... Liu Shengsang..."

The man with the toothbrush mustache stood by the railing on the fourth-floor walkway, staring blankly at the man in the Zhongshan suit, who had lasted less than thirty seconds before dying in a single, humiliating exchange. He couldn’t seem to believe his eyes.

It was unclear whether the railing was simply old and dilapidated, or if the overflowing Vitality from the swordsman’s attack had fractured its internal structure.

The railing the man was leaning on suddenly snapped with a CRACK. Caught completely by surprise, he plummeted from the fourth floor.

"AHHHH—SPLAT!"

The sickening thud, like a body being turned to paste, snapped everyone out of their daze. A greater wave of terror washed over them, and the stairwells, quiet for only a moment, erupted once more into chaos.

"RAT-TAT-TAT—"

Gunfire erupted again, but it was sporadic and disorganized, filled with a palpable sense of futility.

The young man in the white suit reached the third floor.

"AHHHHHHHHH—!"

Someone had gone mad. Realizing their firearms were completely useless against the enemy, they started shooting their own comrades, trying to carve out an escape route.

Others weren’t doing it intentionally; their hands were just shaking too violently to hold their guns straight.

In an instant, stray bullets flew everywhere. People screamed and fell, but the shooters didn’t even look, simply spraying bullets wildly while letting out inhuman howls.

Finally.

"CLATTER—"

A rifle clattered to the floor. Someone broke down, collapsing to their knees in utter surrender.

A thick sense of despair, like a gray tide, silently washed up from the third floor to the fourth.

The young man in the white suit walked slowly past a guard kneeling on the ground. When the guard dazedly lifted his head, he was shocked to find he was still alive.

In that instant, a glimmer of hope sparked in everyone’s eyes!

"CLANG! CLANG—CLANG—"

More and more men dropped their guns, the act spreading as quickly as a plague.

The guards gave up all resistance, scrambling over one another to drop their weapons and run for their lives!

The surrendering guards parted before him like a tide, but Fu Juemin paid them no mind.

By the time he reached the fourth floor, Nan Xiangcheng had been backed into a corner at the end of the walkway. A dozen or so guards still stood before him, eyeing Fu Juemin like a cornered beast—not because they hadn’t given up, but because they hadn’t found an opportunity to flee.

"Fire! What are you all doing! Fire!"

With nowhere left to retreat, Nan Xiangcheng suddenly grabbed the collar of the guard in front of him, roaring like a madman.

Gone was the calm cruelty from his face.

All that remained was a deep-seated horror born of incomprehension, denial, and disbelief.

When the last dozen guards had either been killed or had fled, Fu Juemin, immaculate in his suit, finally stood before him.

Nan Xiangcheng fell into complete despair.

His legs went soft, his body trembling uncontrollably. But before he could even think to beg for mercy, his vision blurred. A hand seized his collar and yanked him violently to the side.

He was sent flying as if soaring through the clouds. "AHHH—"

...

"CRACK, CRASH, SHATTER—"

Fu Juemin had just reached the first floor, dragging Nan Xiangcheng, when a series of shattering sounds came from the floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the lobby.

Immediately after, the men of the Ghost Camp remnants stormed in, machine guns in hand!

"RAT-TAT-TAT—"

They sprayed the room upon entry, gunning down a few guards who were too slow to escape.

Once all potential threats were eliminated, Xu Hengjiang and the others strode forward.

"Young Master!"

Fu Juemin looked at his men, who were wreathed in the stench of gunpowder and blood, and commented casually, "That was quick."

"They were just useless freeloaders, collecting pay for nothing."

Xu Hengjiang, a man who had crawled out of his share of corpse piles, sneered with utter disdain. "The fight didn’t last long. They all ran."

"How much ammunition do you have left?"

Xu Hengjiang paused, glanced down at the machine gun in his hands, and replied, "Not much."

"Then feed it all to him."

Fu Juemin said nonchalantly, glancing at Nan Xiangcheng, who was paralyzed with fear on the floor.

Without another word, Xu Hengjiang and his men acknowledged the order and walked over.

Nan Xiangcheng finally panicked, raising his hands and screaming desperately, but the sound was quickly drowned out by gunfire.

"RAT-TAT-TAT—"

The muzzle flashes from the machine guns illuminated the grim, resolute faces of the Ghost Camp men, spattering their bodies and faces with blood.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bullets were fired. Surrounded, Nan Xiangcheng was dead in an instant.

But on Fu Juemin’s orders, they kept pulling their triggers, continuing until Nan Xiangcheng was nothing but a paste of flesh and bone, churned into the pulverized granite floor until the two were indistinguishable...

Amid the unceasing roar of gunfire, Fu Juemin calmly walked over to a relatively undamaged desk.

A terrified clerk was hiding under it. Seeing Fu Juemin approach, the man tried to shrink away, but Fu Juemin dragged him out and forced him into the chair.

"Do you know how to use this?"

Fu Juemin asked, his tone gentle as he pointed to the telegraph machine on the desk.

The clerk, shaking like a leaf and pale as a ghost, could only nod frantically.

"Good."

Fu Juemin nodded in satisfaction. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and began wiping his hands. "I’ll dictate, you transmit."

"...Do a good job, and you won’t have to die."

The clerk sat down at the telegraph machine faster and more properly than he ever had in his life.

Soon, over the continuing roar of gunfire, a calm, gentle voice reached his ears.

"Send a telegraph to the Xin Republic.

Tell them—"

Fu Juemin paused in wiping his hands for a moment, then continued with a casual air.

"I, Fu Juemin, killed him."

...

Happy New Year, everyone! I wish you all good health and success in the coming year. My New Year’s greetings to you all! orz