Great Demon 02

Mo Ran staggered a few steps to the side, momentarily stunned.

Everyone froze.

They had seen nearly every possible attack method from demons—punches, kicks, tails, claws, biting—and a rare few even used mental manipulation like charm spells. But!

They had never seen one start by slapping someone across the face.

As everyone knew, a slap didn’t deal much physical damage. If anything, the psychological blow was far worse.

"Mo Ran!" a girl shrieked, her dagger glowing faintly as she lunged forward from the side. Almost simultaneously, a silent, buzz-cut man attacked from the opposite flank, while the chubby guy at the back hurled an iron hammer.

Now that was teamwork.

In the original plot, Fang Zhiyi had single-handedly withstood their assault, wounded three of them, and only died after the male protagonist tapped into his hidden potential, trading injuries for a fatal strike.

The floor shattered, sending up a thick cloud of dust.

Fang Zhiyi’s sinister laughter echoed: "Hehehehe, can you block my Shadow Strike?"

The girl, having missed her target, shouted, "Watch out! He’s gone into stealth!" The name alone made it clear this was an assassination skill from a high-level demon.

At her warning, everyone tensed, senses sharpened.

Mo Ran clutched his stinging cheek, his usually impassive face now twisted with rage. Such humiliation! He’d skin that snake demon alive!

Holding their breath, the group instinctively formed a defensive circle, backs pressed together. They knew how cunning demons could be—this was when teamwork mattered most.

But a minute passed. The dust settled. Nothing happened.

Five minutes later, they all started feeling like idiots.

The chubby guy cautiously took a few steps forward. "He… ran away?"

Disbelief flashed across every face.

They exchanged glances. Wasn’t Fang Zhiyi supposed to be a high-level demon? And he just fled after one encounter?

Well, not just fled—he’d also slapped their leader first.

"I imagined all sorts of ways you might turn the tables—targeting the leader, breaking through our weak point… but I never thought you’d just bolt," Little Hei said, barely suppressing a laugh. "You’re a high-level demon. Where’s your pride?"

"Who says high-level demons can’t run? I know how these ‘Chosen Ones’ work. Even if I fought tooth and nail, I’d probably still die." Fang Zhiyi plopped onto the ground. Thanks to the chubby guy smashing through the floor, he’d slipped through the hole to the lower level—then immediately sprinted upstairs to the roof.

Just as he’d guessed, two backup exorcists were still crouched outside his window, waiting to ambush him.

He did feel a little bad for the family downstairs, though. Their dinner table now had a chunk of ceiling plaster as an uninvited side dish.

Currently, the downstairs residents were loudly complaining to hastily summoned staff, demanding compensation from Mo Ran’s team.

Mo Ran’s face darkened. Not only had they failed their mission, but they’d also been publicly humiliated.

Still, he’d gleaned a clue about Fang Zhiyi. According to the family, after the ceiling collapsed, a man had dropped down, calmly straightened his clothes, pointed upward, and assured them the culprits above would cover all damages—then left with unsettling poise.

This snake demon was far trickier than expected: highly intelligent and weirdly… polite?

The backup team lurking outside hadn’t been useful either. With residents constantly coming and going, no one noticed any suspicious men.

"Wait…" The girl spoke up as they reached the ground floor. "What if he never left? What if he’s still inside the building?"

Mo Ran halted. She was right. That crafty snake must’ve spotted the ambush outside. Of course he’d still be hiding here—maybe even on the roof!

Overstepping his authority, Mo Ran ordered the building locked down for a search.

But when they stormed the rooftop, they found only a message scrawled on the ground:

Kid, bother me again, and I’ll slap you twice as hard.

Mo Ran’s face turned green.

None of them realized Fang Zhiyi was currently lounging in his now-doorless apartment, leisurely taking a shower.

Why would the search team expect him to return to the scene?

As complaints from residents piled up and the Exorcist League received an official reprimand, their furious leader stormed in: "Mo Ran! Clean up your own mess!"

The chubby guy looked guilty. "It’s all my fault—"

Mo Ran clasped his shoulder. "We’re a team. Brothers."

Touched, the team shared a heartfelt moment—until the woman outside escalated her tirade, now threatening legal action.

Mo Ran panicked. The Exorcist League operated in shadows. If exposed, not only would higher-ups punish them, but the public would think they were lunatics!

Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi packed his belongings and headed for the elevator. On the way, he ran into that family again. "Hey!"

The family, now compensated but temporarily homeless, blinked in confusion.

"So? They paying up?" Fang Zhiyi asked cheerfully.

The husband nodded. "Market-rate compensation."

Fang Zhiyi slung an arm around him. "Just market rate? That’s robbery! What about lost wages? Hotel costs?"

"They said hotels would be reimbursed," the man mumbled. "And they claimed to be government officials..."

"Pfsh. Total scam!" Fang Zhiyi scoffed (truthfully—the League was just a civilian group now).

The wife’s eyes blazed. "They dared use the government’s name to bully us?!"

"Nice folks get trampled," Fang Zhiyi sighed. "These types fear scandals most."

As the elevator dinged open, he waved goodbye, smirking at the wife’s sharp, calculating face.

Ah, the power of knowledge—specifically, fortune-telling.

While Fang Zhiyi strolled off, the Exorcist League suffered. For two hours, that woman ranted outside their base, drawing crowds. When their leader tried to intervene, she tore into him mercilessly.

"Mo Ran!" he roared upon retreating. "Fix this!"

The team rallied around Mo Ran, solidarity shining—until her shrieks pierced the air again, now threatening lawsuits.

Mo Ran broke into a cold sweat. If this went public…