Juwon knew something was wrong the moment he saw Lin Feng's face.

  The usually giddy trader, who had spent the last day cracking jokes and exaggerating stories, now sat hunched over, his fingers digging into the table, his whole body trembling.

  "Lin Feng," Juwon said, his voice steady. "What happened?"

  Lin Feng looked up, his eyes red and glassy. "They took her, Juwon… They took my sister."

  Juwon's expression darkened. "Who?"

  "The Black Viper Gang… ruthless bastards," Lin Feng said, his voice breaking. "After my father passed away, we had nothing.

  My family took money from them to keep our business afloat. I thought I could repay it in time, but things only got worse."

  He gritted his teeth. "Business has been struggling. A group of bandits started demanding outrageous tolls to let my shipments pass. It drained everything we had."

  He wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to hold back sobs. "I wasn't going to tell you—I didn't want to drag you into this. But… you fought a bear. You… give me hope."

  Juwon inhaled sharply. That look—helplessness, anger, despair. He had seen it before. He had felt it before.

  His chair scraped against the wooden floor as he stood.

  "Where are they?"

  Lin Feng blinked. "What?"

  "Where did they take her?" Juwon's voice was cold now.

  Lin Feng hesitated. "An abandoned school on the outskirts of the village… But Juwon, these guys—"

  "I don't care. Let's go."

  The abandoned school stood against the night like a skeletal ruin, its walls cracked, windows shattered.

  The air reeked of damp wood and stale blood. A den for rats.

  Juwon stepped through the broken entrance, his gaze scanning the surroundings.

  The air was thick, but something felt different—slower. These men moved as if in slow motion.

  His speed was on an entirely different level now. He could hear voices, laughter, the clinking of bottles.

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  "Stay behind me," he told Lin Feng, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The first thug barely had time to register the intruder before Juwon moved.

  His footwork was instinctual, a blur as he sidestepped and drove his fist into the man's gut.

  The thug choked, eyes bulging, before collapsing in a heap.

  Weak and Pathetic

  More came rushing in, this time four of them, wielding an assortment of weapons—clubs, rusted blades, iron rods, and even a pair of chains.

  Juwon's eyes sharpened.

  They were slow. Incredibly slow.

  Every movement, every attack, seemed sluggish, almost as if they were telegraphing their moves seconds before executing them.

  His speed had risen to a completely different level.

  He weaved through their strikes like a specter. A thug swung wildly with a club—Juwon tilted his head slightly, the weapon missing by inches before he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted sharply, forcing him to his knees with a pained yelp.

  Another lunged forward with a rusted blade—Juwon sidestepped, catching the man's forearm and driving a knee into his ribs before tossing him aside.

  Before the others could react,

  four more entered from the side, shouting and charging in unison.

  This time, they were slightly more organized, spreading out to surround him.

  Juwon exhaled, feeling the raw power coursing through his veins.

  His body moved before his mind even processed their attacks. A thug with a rusted blade lunged first—Juwon twisted to the side, effortlessly dodging before grabbing the man's wrist and flipping him over his shoulder.

  The impact knocked the wind out of the thug as he crumpled to the ground.

  Another came at him with chains, swinging them wildly.Juwon ducked low, sidestepped to the right, and delivered a sharp Draconic Mirage Step, his figure blurring for an instant before appearing behind the thug.

  A swift chop to the neck sent him sprawling.

  The last two tried to rush him at once. Juwon anticipated their movements before they even committed, his heightened reflexes making them look sluggish.

  One thug raised a club overhead—Juwon caught it mid-air with one hand, crushing the wood with sheer force, before sending the man flying backward with a devastating palm strike to the chest.

  The final thug hesitated, fear flashing in his eyes. Juwon smirked.

  "Smart choice."

  But something else caught Juwon's attention.

  These men weren't warriors; they were barely even fighters.

  Their moves were sloppy, slow, predictable.

  To Juwon, it was like watching children swing at a shadow they could never catch.

  He had been holding back without realising it.

  Juwon picked up a knife from one of the fallen underlings, flipping it between his fingers.

  He frowned—something about their Qi was familiar. It was faint, almost negligible, but there was no mistaking it. It felt eerily similar to Liang Rui's red Qi.

  They reached the main hall. A single figure stood at its center—a man with sharp, wolfish features and a jagged scar running down his left cheek.

  Wei Tong.

  "Well, well," Wei Tong grinned, arms crossed. "I was wondering who was making all that noise. Didn't expect a kid."

  His gaze flickered to Lin Feng and he sneered. "Oh, I see. You brought a friend to watch you cry?"

  Juwon's eyes shifted past him. There.

  Behind him.

  A girl—Lin Xiulan. Or what was left of her.

  Skin shrunken, body frail, as if she had aged a hundred years overnight.

  Juwon moved to block Lin Feng's view.

  "Lin Feng, don't."

  But it was too late.

  Lin Feng pushed past him, staggering forward.

  "Xiulan!"

  He fell to his knees beside her, hands shaking as he touched her withered arm.

  "No… no, no, no…"

  His cries filled the room.

  Juwon could only watch.

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