Taking an Invalid Hostage

"Dark Taoist! Are you alright? You mustn't let anything happen to you!"

Yang Heng rushed over and patted the old Taoist priest on the back—clearly suffering from counterfeit alcohol.

"Old man, you’ve lost your cool!"

He’d been putting on an act for so long, and now this! What were you doing?!

The Dark Taoist waved his hand, gritted his teeth, and scanned the crowd emerging from the villa before demanding once more: "I’ll ask again! Who the hell left that fake Maotai at the entrance?!"

Then he turned around and vomited again.

By the entrance, a case of Maotai lay opened.

Several empty bottles were scattered haphazardly on the ground—clearly, a lot had been consumed.

"What’s this old Taoist doing here? Coming to make a drunken scene?"

"Who knows? Looks like he drank fake Maotai."

"Tsk, speaking of which, where’d that fake Maotai even come from?"

"Counterfeit booze?"

Lin Chen glanced at An Yi.

An Yi silently looked up at the sky.

He was now certain—that Maotai was definitely fake.

Six hundred bucks down the drain!

Shen Muxuan shook An Yi’s arm angrily. "An Yi! That old man drank the liquor we brought!"

An Yi pulled his hand away, maintaining a stern expression. "That wasn’t ours. You’re mistaken. Do I, An Yi, seem like the kind of person who’d gift fake Maotai?"

Shen Muxuan pouted. "But you carried it all the way from home! How dare he drink it all? It was so expensive!"

"Kid, was this your Maotai?"

The Dark Taoist wiped his mouth, his aura surging with murderous intent!

The terrifying killing intent felt almost tangible, as if it could crush one’s heart.

"So strong!"

An Yi and Lin Chen exchanged glances, both sensing the old Taoist’s overwhelming power.

"Nope. That liquor was for training. I handed it to a waiter—I didn’t tell you to drink it. Huh, where’d that guy go?" An Yi feigned confusion.

"Right here."

Qian Xiu, a pale-faced young man carrying a pitch-black stone tablet, raised his hand with a smirk. The waiter who had stopped An Yi at the entrance was now dangling by his collar in Qian Xiu’s grip.

The waiter was unconscious, his face covered in blood—his condition unknown.

"Little Fu!"

Qin Yao’s expression darkened.

This waiter was Uncle Fu’s nephew!

He’d grown up in the Qin household, and now he’d been beaten to this state!

Seeing the Dark Taoist had recovered, Yang Heng’s face twisted back into a sinister grin.

"Qin Zhengwei—no, Father-in-law, I genuinely adore Miss Qin and wish to take her as my concubine. What do you say?"

Qin Zhengwei’s face darkened.

It suddenly clicked—no wonder the Yang family seemed familiar. They weren’t some ancient martial arts clan but a family of demonic cultivators!

How dare they show themselves so brazenly now? Weren’t they afraid of the Law Enforcement Bureau hunting them down?

Qian Xiu, still holding Little Fu, sensed danger and coldly turned.

He threw a punch behind him.

Thud!

An Yi, who had attempted a sneak attack, staggered back, shaking his fist. "Tch, just missed!"

The guy turned around—no backstab bonus!

"Even the so-called righteous sects resort to sneak attacks. How shameful."

Qian Xiu’s sickly pale face twisted in disdain.

An Yi shot him a glance. "Who the hell told you I’m one of the righteous?"

With that, An Yi placed the bloodied Little Fu aside and said to Uncle Fu, "Still alive. Get him to a hospital, quick."

Qian Xiu’s pupils shrank in shock as he stared at his now-empty left hand.

"The guy’s gone!"

This kid’s real goal was to snatch the hostage!

How’d he pull that off in front of everyone?!

Little did he know, An Yi had spent the last two years relentlessly upgrading his Thieving Hand skill to Lv. 4—nothing was beyond his reach.

Kidnapping? Child’s play.

Just then, Song Yan—a grotesque, clown-like figure with a bowl cut—appeared without a sound. His thick arms wrapped around Gu Hongyun’s neck.

"Behave, or I’ll snap this guy’s neck!" Song Yan giggled.

Gu Hongyun froze, his hair standing on end.

What the hell? Why was he being taken hostage?!

He was just here to watch the show!

An Yi feigned panic, shouting, "Stop! What are you doing? How despicable!"

Song Yan cackled. "Hehe, what do you expect from demonic cultivators? Obey, or else!"

Taking hostages was a demonic cultivator’s favorite pastime.

If you comply?

Great—you all die together!

If you don’t?

The hostage dies first!

Let the survivors wallow in guilt and regret forever!

An Yi closed his eyes, pretending to grieve. "Go ahead. Even if you kill him, I won’t yield!"

Gu Hongyun:

"Goddammit!"

Seeing An Yi’s indifference, Song Yan sneered. "Think I won’t do it? Fine, have it your way!"

Gu Hongyun, terrified out of his wits, screamed, "No, no! Sir, that bastard and I are enemies! He wants you to kill me!"

Tonight’s birthday party had been nothing but misery.

He’d never suffered so much in his life!

Now his fate rested in this clown’s hands, and that damn An Yi was egging him on!

Song Yan frowned, glancing at An Yi.

Sure enough, the guy was barely holding back laughter.

Damn it—he’d picked the wrong hostage!

A useless bargaining chip!

Song Yan tossed Gu Hongyun aside like trash and turned to Yang Heng. "Young Master Yang, what’s the plan?"

They were, after all, hired by Yang Heng. The final call was his.

Yang Heng stepped forward, looking down his nose. "Father-in-law, I’m still waiting for your answer!"

Lin Chen’s expression turned icy, his energy flaring.

The jade pendant on his chest glowed, burning hot.

Qin Zhengwei said coldly, "My daughter refuses. Not even the heavens can force her!"

Wu Tong slowly rose to his feet.

Song Yan and Qian Xiu were manageable, but the Dark Taoist was no pushover.

In this room, only he stood a chance against that monster.

Yang Heng grinned arrogantly. "In that case, don’t blame us for resorting to force. Gentlemen, do your thing. Today, I’m taking her—willing or not."

"Lawless! Have these people lost their minds?"

"Broad daylight, and they dare to kidnap someone?!"

"Call the Law Enforcement Bureau! These criminals belong behind bars!"

The guests scoffed, convinced these idiots had lost their minds.

Uncle Fu had discreetly dialed the Law Enforcement Bureau earlier, sensing trouble.

But strangely, no one answered.

"Uncle Fu, any updates?" Qin Yao whispered.

Uncle Fu’s face was grim.

The Law Enforcement Bureau wasn’t picking up—unheard of!

Something big was brewing.

An Yi pulled out a combat dagger, serious now. "Old Lin, the drunk Taoist’s yours. He’s weakened from the fake booze—easy pickings!"

Lin Chen:

Even an idiot could tell the drunk old man was the strongest one here!

The Dark Taoist drew a Taoist sword, pointing it at An Yi furiously. "You little brat! You fed me fake liquor and thought you’d get away with it?!"

Seeing no escape, An Yi sighed. "Fine, I’ll handle the drunk geezer. Old Lin, you take the clown. Xiao Ming, you deal with the guy carrying the tombstone—he looks young and weak."

Fang Jueming clenched his fists, bandages winding around his arms. "Yes, Master!"

Qian Xiu, hefting the tombstone, smirked darkly. "Seems I’ve been underestimated."