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Clang!

A sharp metallic ring.

The sickle in Chen Guan’s hands could no longer withstand Santai’s relentless, storm-like assault. One of her blows knocked it flying, sending it tumbling and skidding far across the ground.

His chest was left completely exposed beneath the flashing blade.

Chen Guan staggered backward, his back slamming heavily into a massive transport truck with a dull thud.

The cold metal of the vehicle jolted his muddled mind back to clarity for a brief moment.

But it was already too late.

Riiip.

The fabric of his coat split open, and a shallow cut appeared on his left arm. Blood immediately began to seep out.

The pain forced a muffled groan from him.

Santai stopped. She stood in front of Chen Guan, a single drop of his blood still hanging from the tip of her transparent dagger.

“Game over, kid.”

She regarded Chen Guan with a smile, though she remained on full alert.

This kid was far too sly. Just like Uncle White Tiger, he was always able to pull out some strange new ability.

Santai still didn’t dare claim that this was Chen Guan’s limit.

She had been holding back at every turn, while the kid had been trying to beat her to death, throwing every bizarre skill imaginable straight at her face.

Leaning against the truck, Chen Guan gasped for breath. The stinging pain in his left arm and the weakness brought on by blood loss made his vision swim with darkness.

His coat had been slashed open in several places, and his body bore a number of wounds of varying depth. He looked utterly battered.

In the distance, Long Ao clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his flesh, yet there was nothing he could do.

An Changqing supported him. His expression was just as grim, but his gaze was not on Santai. It was fixed on Chen Guan’s wounds.

Something was wrong.

An Changqing’s brows slowly drew together.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But now, he could see it clearly.

The cut on Chen Guan’s left arm had bled for less than two seconds before it bizarrely stopped.

Then the torn flesh began to close at a visible speed, as though an invisible pair of hands were pinching it together.

A faint red line replaced the wound. The mark quickly faded as well, until all that remained was a damaged sleeve proving that the injury had ever existed.

If he hadn’t been watching the entire time, he might have thought the slash had been an illusion.

An Changqing’s heart skipped a beat. He looked toward the shallower cut across Chen Guan’s chest.

The same scene played out again.

The healing was not as shockingly fast as it had been on his arm, but it was still far beyond anything a normal human being could manage.

Had Chen Guan’s recovery ability really grown to such an abnormal level without anyone realizing it?

An Changqing’s thoughts were interrupted by Santai’s voice.

“You can barely stand. You still refuse to admit defeat?”

At this point, it was no longer a question of whether Chen Guan would surrender.

Santai wanted to see the limits of his abilities, and Chen Guan likewise wanted to see his own limits—to find out what he was capable of when facing an opponent this powerful.

Slowly, Chen Guan straightened, moving away from the support of the truck.

His legs trembled. It was the instinctive protest of a body whose strength had been completely drained.

“Looks like you don’t even have the energy to speak.”

Santai tilted her head and spun the crystal dagger in her hand.

She was wondering if she had gone too far. Bulling a younger opponent was rather beneath her.

Before she could say anything, Chen Guan moved.

The muscles in his legs bulged. The concrete beneath his feet instantly cracked beneath two shallow depressions, and he shot straight toward Santai without the slightest hesitation.

Too fast!

Chen Guan was moving even faster now than he had at his peak—so fast that he left behind nothing but a blurred shadow.

Santai had been distracted. Faced with an attack moving at such speed, she barely managed to react in time, turning her head aside.

Whoosh.

The force of Chen Guan’s punch skimmed past her cheek. A few strands of hair were lifted by the gale before drifting slowly back down.

At the instant they crossed paths, Santai reached out and seized Chen Guan by the wrist. Her wrist twisted instinctively.

Chen Guan felt an overwhelming force surge through him. His entire body was flung away like a torn sack.

Boom!

His back slammed hard into the tunnel wall. The wall let out a muffled groan under the impact.

Centered on the point of collision, cracks spread across the surface like a spiderweb.

“That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Santai stood where she was and dusted off her hands, though there wasn’t any dust on them. At some point, the crystal dagger had vanished.

Looking at Chen Guan sprawled on the ground, then at An Changqing and Long Ao nearby, she rubbed her forehead helplessly. How had things ended up like this?

If only she had known, she wouldn’t have taken the fight so seriously.

Santai sighed. In the end, this whole bloody mess had been caused by a single name.

“Huaqing brat, I’ll tell you, then.”

“My name is Santai.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the overturned tanker deeper inside the tunnel, leaving Long Ao standing there in complete bewilderment.

Just then—

Rustle, rustle.

A few bits of rubble fell from above and struck the ground.

Everyone felt a faint tremor beneath their feet.

Crack.

A sharp sound came from the ceiling, especially piercing in the deathly silence.

All of them looked up at once.

A conspicuous fissure, like a black bolt of lightning, was spreading rapidly above their heads.

The falling rubble had yet to stop when an even deeper boom echoed from farther inside the tunnel, as though some enormous beast had rolled over beneath the earth.

Rumble!

This time, the shaking was no longer slight. The entire tunnel seemed to groan in agony.

The concrete floor split apart, cracks spreading like a black spiderweb into every corner.

Above them, tons of concrete began to groan under the strain. Snapped steel bars shrieked sharply as entire sections of the ceiling came crashing down.

Even the playful smile vanished from Santai’s face.

She frowned and tapped the cracked ground with the tip of her foot, dodging the densest area of falling debris.

She did not think only of herself. As she retreated, she casually raised a hand toward Chen Guan.

A force spread outward, forming an invisible umbrella above him. Every chunk of stone falling toward him was deflected to either side the moment it came within a meter.

Afterward, she shielded the truck as well.

Only after doing all that did Santai fold her arms and click her tongue softly.

“Can’t even take a hit.”

An Changqing reacted just as quickly.

He glanced at Chen Guan, saw that his companion was in no immediate danger, and no longer hesitated.

His figure blurred, and he appeared beside the limp Qian Yongnian. With one hand, he hoisted the fat man up.

His longsword swept before him, creating a curtain of light. Countless sword energies interwove into a shield, and the falling rubble struck it with a dense clattering of metallic impacts.

“Protect yourself. Find cover.” An Changqing’s voice trembled slightly beneath the roar, but he remained composed.

Leaning against a section of wall that was still more or less intact, Chen Guan gulped in air. His lungs felt as though they were burning.

Santai’s attack had given him a moment to recover. His confused mind finally began to function again.

Just moments ago, a section of the ceiling the size of a small car had fallen nearby, throwing up a cloud of dust.

Behind the enormous hole where the concrete had broken away, there was no soil or bedrock as he had expected.

Instead, there stood row after row of neatly arranged blue-green bricks and tiles—clearly polished and deliberately crafted.