If Deacon Pang was a member of the Night Rose, killing him and performing Inquire the Soul would yield a wealth of information, accelerating the hunt for the Black guard of Impermanence. Zhang Yuanqing felt a surge of excitement.
He was even more anxious to find the Black guard of Impermanence than Fu Qingyang.
"But why would he want to kill me? At this critical juncture, killing me would only complicate matters," Zhang Yuanqing mused, unable to make sense of it.
"He must have his reasons. We'll learn them when I kill him and Inquire the Soul," Fu Qingyang said, opening the wine cabinet to retrieve a bottle of red wine and two stemmed glasses. "Care for a glass?"
Now I know where Li Dongze picked up his habits, Zhang Yuanqing thought, shaking his head. "Do you have any cola?"
Fu Qingyang set down one of the stemmed glasses. "Then you'll have to wait until this is over and buy some yourself."
He sipped the tart red wine with an air of nonchalance, as if he were heading to a club rather than preparing to kill someone.
Perhaps only those born into generations of wealth and power could cultivate such serene composure. Zhang Yuanqing, on the other hand, was consumed by thoughts of how to take down Deacon Pang, how much information the man possessed about the Night Rose, and the risks he would face if the operation failed.
Throughout the journey, neither spoke. Fu Qingyang held his wine glass, gazing at the nightscape outside the window, occasionally taking a sip.
Zhang Yuanqing reclined his seat, lying back with his eyes closed to conserve his energy.
About twenty minutes later, Fu Qingyang set down his wine glass, and almost simultaneously, the van began to slow.
Zhang Yuanqing immediately opened his eyes and sat up to look out the window. The van had stopped outside a luxurious residential complex, its black-tiled buildings arranged in an orderly fashion.
A plaza stretched out before the complex's entrance, featuring a central fountain pool that gave the place the air of a high-end hotel.
They're really rich, Zhang Yuanqing thought, impressed. The property prices here must be at least 150,000 yuan per square meter.
"Centurion, won't barging in like this alert Pang Wudi?" Zhang Yuanqing suggested. "Shouldn't we scout the area first?"
Fu Qingyang replied coolly, "Pang Wudi sent an Evil Spirit to kill you. He's likely at home now, waiting for news. Until the Evil Spirit returns, patience is our safest course. Our late-night visit is meant to catch him off guard. Overplanning would only increase the risk of him detecting us."
Despite his cold tone, the young master patiently explained his reasoning to his trusted subordinate. Then, he shifted the conversation:
"However, we still need to conduct essential reconnaissance to ensure no Night Rose members are nearby who might sabotage our plan."
How will we do that? Zhang Yuanqing wondered.
Fu Qingyang raised his right hand, his fingers forming a sword-like gesture, and pressed them against his forehead.
In the next moment, Zhang Yuanqing faintly saw a pale white ripple emanate from Fu Qingyang's forehead, spreading outward like water waves. The light grew fainter with distance until it became imperceptible.
After about ten seconds, Fu Qingyang opened his eyes and declared, "No ambushes nearby."
Seeing his trusted subordinates staring in astonishment, he smiled faintly. "Don't be surprised. This is a Scout in action!"
Zhang Yuanqing thought to himself, This is the real eye! Compared to this, Li Dongze's ability is just a cheap imitation.
With that, Fu Qingyang opened the car door and approached the guard booth at the residential complex entrance. He gazed calmly at the security guard and said, "Open the gate."
In this affluent residential area, residents were required to swipe access cards to enter and exit.
The security guard stared in awe at the strikingly handsome young man. Dressed in a crisp, impeccably tailored white suit, his hair pulled back into a neat, short ponytail, he possessed a captivating, almost intimidating presence.
His deep, serene gaze held the authority of a sovereign, radiating an air of refined nobility.
The guard stammered respectfully, "Sir, which residence are you visiting?"
Fu Qingyang replied calmly, "Open the gate. Don't waste my time."
An inexplicable sense of awe and submission surged through the guard's heart. Trembling with apprehension, he hastily swiped the access card.
Fu Qingyang nodded slightly, passed through the iron gate, and entered the residential complex.
Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing hurried after him, but the gatekeeper stopped him. "Hold on! Which unit are you from?"
Zhang Yuanqing recalled the earlier scene, his face darkening. His gaze turned deep and calm as he imitated Fu Qingyang's aloof, kingly demeanor. "Don't waste my time," he said coolly.
The gatekeeper sized him up and down before waving him through impatiently. "Go on, go on."
"..." Zhang Yuanqing's expression turned slightly awkward. He had no choice but to use Charm Magic to bewitch the old man and slip quietly into the residential area.
Hmm, it's not that my aura is inferior to Fu Qingyang's. It's just that different professions have different abilities. He couldn't have seduced the old man like I did, he silently reassured himself, salvaging his pride.
Catching up to Fu Qingyang, Zhang Yuanqing whispered a complaint:
"Centurion, why didn't we just climb over the wall? Using the main gate leaves traces."
The figure in the white suit strode forward, replying calmly, "Don't forget your position. We are The Officials."
Fine, Zhang Yuanqing thought sourly. If it were Li Dongze, he'd definitely say, "Climbing over walls is so uncouth!"
West residential building, 21st floor, penthouse.
In the living room, Pang Wudi, a square-faced man in a judo uniform, sat silently and solemnly at the bar, cradling a glass of wine in his palm.
On the marble countertop before him lay a bottle of whiskey and an old, battered cell phone.
Pang Wudi waited for the Evil Spirit to return from his phone.
It was two in the morning, and the Evil Spirit hadn't returned yet, meaning the target hadn't been eliminated.
But Pang Wudi wasn't worried. He didn't believe the Primordial Heavenly Venerable could evade the Evil Spirit's pursuit. Nightwalkers lacked the ability to enter the Dream Domain; once trapped there, death was inevitable.
Since acquiring this Item, Pang Wudi had used it to kill several enemies he couldn't deal with directly, and it had never failed.
This Assassination Artifact was a master of stealth, killing without a trace. Even the most perceptive Scout would find no clues.
Its only flaw was its ineffectiveness against Saint Stage enemies. The price for using it ten times was that the Evil Spirit would begin hunting its Master in the Dream Realm.
Of course, for Pang Wudi, a Saint Stage cultivator, this posed only minor, inconsequential risks.
"After the Primordial Heavenly Venerable dies, Fu Qingyang will undoubtedly be furious. But it will be difficult for him to suspect me. Still, he's sharp; I'll need to be extra cautious for the next three days."
Pang Wudi drained his glass of liquor. Just then, a vision flashed through his mind:
Fu Qingyang, dressed in a crisp white suit, arrived outside the security door with a handsome young man in tow.
The image had been transmitted by the potted plant he'd placed outside the door. As a Saint Stage Wood Spirit, he could communicate with plants within a small radius, turning them into his "eyes."
Primordial Heavenly Venerable isn't dead? He's come here? How is that possible?!
Pang Wudi's pupils constricted as shock, confusion, and panic surged through him. He made a swift decision: he had to leave immediately.
First, he'd escape and report the assassination failure to "Heaven's Injustice," his contact. Then, he'd inform his superiors and await orders, adapting to the situation as needed.
In any case, he couldn't stay here now. At the very least, he needed to dispose of the assassination Item.
Having made up his mind, Pang Wudi rushed to the balcony, intending to jump out the window.
Drip... drip...
The security door's lock melted into molten iron, dripping to the floor.
The door swung open, and Fu Qingyang strode in, his hands clad in dark crimson gloves.
"Don't bother running. You won't get away," Fu Qingyang said calmly, watching Pang Wudi's retreating figure dart toward the balcony.
Without turning around, Pang Wudi flung a handful of spores into the air. The spores swelled rapidly in the wind, transforming into small, octopus-like plants. Their tentacles writhed, enveloping Fu Qingyang and Zhang Yuanqing.
Zhang Yuanqing dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the incoming Octopus Plant.
He hadn't expected the fight to erupt so suddenly, without even a word of warning.
Fu Qingyang didn't retreat. He advanced through the storm of plants as if he had calculated their trajectories, moving with effortless grace to evade every tendril that lunged at him.
With a flick of his right hand, Fu Qingyang produced a small, deep azure Command Flag and flicked it into the air.
"Hmph!"
The flag pierced the balcony's ceramic tiles, and a hazy blue barrier rose, forming a cage that trapped Pang Wudi on the balcony.
"Hmph!" Pang Wudi's body suddenly swelled like an inflating balloon, transforming him into a three-meter-tall giant with muscles as taut and hard as vines.
He slammed his fist against the barrier, sending shards of blue light scattering across the living room.
By then, Fu Qingyang had reached the balcony entrance and drawn the rust-covered Eight Directions Sword from his Inventory.
A flicker of fear flashed in Pang Wudi's eyes as he spat out a gray Mist.
Invisible to the naked eye, spores drifted within the Mist. These spores possessed a voracious appetite; upon contact with living beings, they would rapidly multiply, draining their life force until nothing remained.
The dense mist surged forward, overwhelming even the Scout's precognitive abilities.
Yet Fu Qingyang stood his ground, his left hand gripping a small white flag embroidered with a majestic White Tiger.
"Roar!"
A phantom tiger's roar reverberated through the room, shattering the mist.
Fu Qingyang stepped forward, raising the Eight Directions Bronze Sword high.
Pang Wudi's massive frame suddenly trembled, his legs moving incoherently. His left foot tried to dodge left, while his right foot attempted to flee right, his torso seemingly acting independently.
In the end, he could only summon a set of vine armor to cover his towering three-meter-tall body.
Fu Qingyang slashed down with his sword.
In the next instant, the vine armor split open, flesh and bone separated, and the three-meter-tall giant was cleaved in two. Organs spilled out with a sickening splatter, and crimson blood spread across the balcony tiles.
Zhang Yuanqing, who had witnessed the scene from behind, was both shocked and elated, his mind racing with questions:
He's dead? A Saint just died like that?
Why didn't he dodge? That sword strike seemed ordinary. Was it really impossible to avoid?
Fu Qingyang sheathed his bronze sword and Command Flag, glancing back calmly. "Come, let's Inquire the Soul!"
"Y-yes, right away," Zhang Yuanqing stammered, gathering his scattered thoughts and hurrying forward.