Who Is Comfort

At the top of a skyscraper in Yunzhou City.

A handsome young man in Taoist robes stood at the edge, gazing down below.

From this vantage point, he could clearly see the destroyed Hejia Huan building and the dense crowd of people swarming beneath.

"The order has been given—An Yi must be captured alive!"

A young man wearing an eyepatch spoke indifferently.

Thousand Taoist frowned slightly. "The decree of an immortal?"

"Correct."

The blind-seeming youth gripped his blood-stained sickle and murmured, "Gourd Immortal's death was suspicious. Based on the strength An Yi has shown so far, it's unlikely he could have killed Gourd Immortal. The higher-ups are very interested in him."

"Hah! Gourd Immortal—just an old fool who coasted on seniority. He didn’t deserve the title!" Thousand Taoist sneered arrogantly.

"In the world of martial artists, strength alone commands respect!"

"Age has never been a reason for reverence."

"Three hundred years of cultivation, only to be killed by a twenty-year-old brat. What a joke."

"What are the odds of capturing An Yi?" the blind youth asked.

The eerie crimson glow of his sickle pulsed ominously.

Thousand Taoist glanced down at An Yi with disdain. "One hundred percent."

"Don’t be overconfident. Finish this quickly. I heard Immortal Lu might show up too."

"Hmph. We don’t need him."

"Witches of the Hehuan Sect! Hand over An Yi!"

"Surrender An Yi!"

The martial artists, lured by the five-billion bounty, roared in unison.

Most of them were just low-level thugs.

But even a minnow dreams of leaping over the dragon gate!

What if they got lucky and landed the killing blow?

The Yellow-Robed Beauty frowned.

"What nonsense is this? We don’t even have An Yi. What are these fools trying to pull?"

"Everyone, please calm down—"

Before she could finish, a gorilla-like young man at the front cut her off with a bellow:

"Charge! Don’t fall for the Hehuan Sect’s tricks—the five billion is right there!"

"Attack!"

A short youth took the lead, striking a Hehuan Sect woman in the chest with his "Iron Palm Floating on Milk," sending her flying.

With the crowd riled up, over a hundred martial artists surged forward in an instant.

Yunzhou City was merely an outpost for the Hehuan Sect, with barely a hundred actual martial artists among them.

Dealing with An Yi’s group was already stretching their limits.

Now, facing this sudden onslaught, they stood no chance.

"Hand over An Yi, and we’ll spare your lives!"

"Destroy the Hehuan Sect! Uphold justice!"

"Justice my ass! With Hejia Huan gone, where else can we find such high-quality women to vent our frustrations?!"

Realizing the chaos caused by the five-billion frenzy, the Hehuan Sect women finally sensed something amiss.

Since when did they have An Yi?!

"An Yi isn’t with us!" the Yellow-Robed Beauty pleaded, but the bounty-drunk mob wouldn’t listen.

After all, their intel confirmed An Yi had been taken into Hejia Huan.

That’s why they’d gathered in the woods, waiting for their chance.

And with Qin Shan and Liu Dachao stirring the pot, they’d convinced themselves An Yi was in the Hehuan Sect’s clutches.

Watching her disciples struggle against the attacking martial artists, the Yellow-Robed Beauty’s face twisted in fury.

"Master, should we take this chance to wipe out these demonic cultivators?" Fang Jueming asked eagerly.

"This is the perfect opportunity to rid Yunzhou City of this long-standing scourge!"

An Yi shot him a look.

"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. Spending time with that poker-faced guy has ruined you."

"Let’s slip away in the chaos. My car’s over there," Lin Chen said, stowing his Splintered Cloud Cane.

"No escaping now, Brother Chen! Should we fight?" Long growled, scanning the surrounding martial artists.

With the Hehuan Sect under siege, their own encirclement made escape impossible.

"Shit, Lin Chen’s here too!"

"It’s the Night Emperor, Lin Chen. This complicates things."

Some of the martial artists muttered nervously upon spotting An Yi’s group.

Lin Chen raised an eyebrow.

His reputation had grown that much?

"Night Emperor"?

Sounded a bit edgy for his taste.

"Damn it, is that sleazebag Lin Chen also after An Yi’s head?"

"What do we do? This guy’s infamous for cheap shots—remember how he one-shotted the Surging Wave Palm Sect Leader with a sneak attack?"

"Let’s team up and take him out first! He’s a disgrace to martial artists!"

"Agreed!"

Lin Chen: "..."

Seeing so many familiar faces, An Yi felt a pang of guilt.

With the real target present, he couldn’t keep using the alias "Lin Chen."

Most of these martial artists were rogue cultivators—no sect, no discipline.

Weak, but always lurking for scraps.

Wherever there was chaos, they’d show up.

Many had been at the Nine Swords of Dragon-Slaying manual skirmish.

An Yi’s dazzling performance back then had made him memorable, and his "Lin Chen" alias had spread like wildfire.

Of course, none of them knew "Lin Chen" was just a pseudonym.

Lin Chen shot An Yi a dark glare.

His instincts told him this bastard was behind it all.

"Wait—then who the hell is An Yi?"

"Where is he?"

Someone finally voiced the critical question.

Seeing Hejia Huan demolished and the Hehuan Sect surrounding this group, they’d assumed An Yi was here.

But the silver-haired, red-eyed guy didn’t match the description.

The black-clad stoic and the bandaged kid? No. The two hulking bald men? Impossible.

The only one who vaguely resembled An Yi was that scoundrel Lin Chen.

Lin Chen coolly twirled his cane. "An Yi’s still with the Hehuan Sect. We were searching for him when they ambushed us."

An Yi discreetly gave him a thumbs-up.

This guy looked so serious, yet he was full of schemes.

Shangguan Qianqian’s delicate brows furrowed as she pieced together the situation.

"Damn these women! They’d rather die than give up the bounty!"

Instantly, the mob’s fury redirected at the battered Hehuan Sect.

The Yellow-Robed Beauty paled. "That guy is An Yi! What’s wrong with you people?!"

But in the frenzy for the five billion, no one listened.

A hundred martial artists clashed in chaos far more brutal than expected.

In moments, the Hehuan Sect was overwhelmed again.

"Enough!"

A thunderous voice boomed like a temple bell, shaking everyone to their core.

A monk in moon-white robes—his beauty almost demonic—strode forward.

The sound of Buddhist chant filled the air.

Long and Hu tensed.

"Someone from Lantuo Temple!"

"Demonic Monk Yu Tian!"

Lin Chen’s eyes narrowed, murder flickering in his gaze.

The appearance of Demonic Monk Yu Tian silenced the battlefield.

Even the boldest trembled.

What was this infamous fiend doing here?

"How amusing. So many martial artists… imagine the corpses!"

A ragged old man clutching a bamboo stick cackled.

"Corpse-driving Old Ghost!"

A wave of primal fear swept through the crowd like an icy wind.