Chapter 105 - 95: Even Silent Villains Must Die

Chapter 105: Chapter 95: Even Silent Villains Must Die

The Fierce Tiger Descending the Mountain Painting on this spirit screen.

It was originally the protective measure for this old residence.

But its power had been expended years ago.

After the Lu Family moved in,

Lu Huaiqian spent a great fortune to hire a Painting Cultivator to restore it.

This was the Lu Family’s greatest trump card.

Right now, that tiger was letting out a low growl that seemed to emanate from the depths of the earth.

The sound waves, like a tangible tide, crashed against the faint, almost imperceptible zither music in the air.

ZING—!

The zither’s note was abruptly cut off by the tiger’s roar for a split second.

Inside the main hall, Lu Huaiqian’s face was as pale as a sheet.

Seizing this fleeting opportunity, he roared at his two younger brothers beside him:

"Huaisan! Huaichuan! Take Jinglin, Jinhao, and the others and leave through the Back Door! This painting won’t last much longer!"

Lu Huaisan and Lu Huaichuan exchanged a look and, without a moment’s hesitation, spun around and charged for the door.

Their hands had just touched the heavy pear wood door panels!

ROAR—!!!

An utterly wretched tiger’s howl suddenly rang out—not a threat, but a dying wail.

Immediately after, a faint silver ripple, visible to the naked eye, distorted the moonlight as it swept across like a scythe.

CRASH—!!!

All the glass windows of the main hall facing the courtyard shattered in the same instant!

They didn’t just break; they exploded into fine powder, raising a crystalline mist in the lamplight.

The heavy doorframe let out a teeth-grinding groan before splintering apart, sending wood chips flying.

Lu Huaisan and Lu Huaichuan, who had just reached the doorway, were struck in the chest as if by an invisible sledgehammer.

They were sent flying backward, landing heavily on the debris-strewn floor tiles.

Their ears were filled with a sharp ringing, their organs felt displaced, and their vision swam with black spots.

Lu Huaiqian was also thrown to the ground by the blast wave, his robes covered in dust and shattered glass.

After what felt like an eternity, the three brothers struggled to prop themselves up.

A roar still echoed in their ears.

They looked out into the courtyard through the now-unobstructed door and window frames.

The spirit screen, made of blue bricks, about ten feet tall and a foot thick, was severed at waist height.

The break was as smooth as a mirror, as if it had been silently sliced by a colossal blade that reached from heaven to earth.

The top half, with the "Fierce Tiger Descending the Mountain," crashed down, kicking up a cloud of dust in the courtyard.

The spiritual light of the tiger in the painting had long since dissipated, its colors faded and dull.

Behind the broken spirit screen stood the Lu Family’s wide-open, black-lacquered main gate.

The night outside was as thick as ink, yet two figures were clearly visible.

One man was dressed in a dark blue long gown and wore round sunglasses.

He sat cross-legged on a single leg, yet remained as steady as a rock, despite only having one leg for support.

A seven-stringed zither of ancient design, its body marked with faint, dark red patterns, lay across his lap.

The sound wave that had just torn apart the tiger spirit and shattered the doors and windows had clearly come from him.

Beside him, another man stood ramrod straight.

He wore the same dark blue long gown, the same round sunglasses, and even his face looked as if it had been cast from the same mold.

But this second man was expressionless, his skin a deathly pallor that had never seen the sun.

He held a thin bamboo pole, so vividly green it looked as if it could drip dew, and stood silently like a paper effigy at a wake.

For now, the zither music had ceased.

The night wind blew through the shattered doors and windows, carrying the late autumn chill and the stench of blood into the main hall.

Lu Huaiqian suppressed the coppery taste of blood rising in his throat and shouted hoarsely, "Everyone! Take down these two fiends! The reward is ten thousand silver coins!"

Tempted by the heavy reward, the men from the Nursing Home who were struggling to their feet in the courtyard and the security officers who could still grip their guns all showed a fierce glint in their eyes.

A series of CLICK-CLACKS rang out as bolts were pulled and bullets chambered.

Dozens of dark muzzles aimed at the two bizarre figures at the entrance.

The corner of the zither player’s mouth seemed to twitch into the barest hint of a smile.

His gaunt right hand casually swept across the zither’s strings—

TWANG—!!!

A single note.

And yet, it sounded like hundreds, even thousands of sharp, piercing notes of varying pitches, all forcibly twisted together and unleashed at once!

Wherever the sound wave passed, the barrels of the raised rifles and pistols bizarrely twisted and swelled, then burst apart with a series of soft POPS!

Shrapnel shot out, accompanied by even more wretched screams.

The hands and arms of many of the gunmen looked as if they had been viciously wrung by a giant, invisible hand.

They were instantly bent at bizarre angles, with white bone piercing through flesh, dripping with blood.

The three Lu Huaiqian brothers drew in a sharp, cold breath, a chill running down their spines.

This was no longer something Martial Arts could counter. It was practically a Demon Technique!

The remaining men from the Nursing Home, those who had practiced Hard Skills, their eyes bloodshot, drew their sabers, clubs, and iron rulers, roaring as they charged the two figures.

It was only then that the other man in sunglasses, who had been standing as still as a statue, finally moved!

There was no sound.

Only a blurred, dark blue shadow that nearly melted into the night.

Everywhere he passed, those men from the Nursing Home—considered skilled fighters in the Jianghu—fell in droves like stalks of wheat being reaped.

Each had a wound on their throat as thin as a red thread, from which blood gushed forth.

They died before they could even scream, the terror still frozen in their eyes.

From the tip of the verdant bamboo pole, a single drop of blood slowly rolled off.

Looking at the Chaotic Scene in the courtyard, watching the skilled fighters his family had cultivated for years being slaughtered like chickens, Lu Huaisan’s eyes turned red.

He violently ripped open his outer robe.

Beneath it, his entire torso was strapped with dynamite!

The fuse was wrapped around his fingertips.

"Big Brother! Second Brother!"

Lu Huaisan’s voice was hoarse, but carried an air of finality.

"Get the children out of here! I’ll hold them off!"

"Third Brother! Don’t!" Lu Huaiqian’s eyes looked ready to split from their sockets.

Without another word, Lu Huaisan forcefully pushed Lu Huaiqian and Lu Huaichuan away.

"Listen to me this time! When you rendezvous with Jing’an, make sure he gets revenge for me!"

"Third Uncle."

A clear and calm voice suddenly came from behind them, out of the shadows of the corridor leading to the rear courtyard.