The Boss Is Gone

The sun was setting in the west.

A faint afterglow painted the room in a shade of crimson.

A man and a dog stood facing each other in a silent standoff.

"After you."

Boss Nie pushed the cup of fragrant tea forward, gesturing politely.

Though his opponent was merely a dog, his demeanor was one of utmost respect.

Hongtian ignored the tea, pulling out a cigarette instead. Lighting it, he exhaled and said coolly, "No need. What do you want, deliberately luring me here with your aura?"

"Senior Hongtian, this is our second meeting, isn’t it?" Boss Nie remarked leisurely.

"The first was at the Nie family villa."

Back then, Hongtian’s aura had been pitifully weak.

And Boss Nie had shown no intention of revealing his true strength.

Though there had been friction between them over the matter of the potion, neither brought it up, as if it had been forgotten.

"Are you the second generation?"

Hongtian blew a smoke ring, asking lazily.

He could sense something familiar about the man before him—like a kindred spirit, yet not quite.

Boss Nie nodded slowly, smiling. "You guessed correctly."

"Human transformation? What a load of nonsense. Your father was a fool too."

Hongtian’s voice dripped with disdain.

He punctuated his contempt with a dismissive fart.

It was clear to him—this man’s bloodline was impure.

Boss Nie replied calmly, "It was a choice for the sake of progeny."

"That path only dilutes the bloodline further. Human forms have limited lifespans."

Hongtian shook his head. "But whatever. Just a few thousand years extra—sooner dead, sooner reborn."

Boss Nie chuckled lightly. "Not necessarily. That dragon brat is an exception—he’s third generation."

"So that kid really is suspicious. No wonder he always felt off to me."

Hongtian took a drag, recalling Long Aoyun with a flicker of realization.

Boss Nie spoke evenly, "Senior Hongtian, do you remember the glory of the Three Fiends’ reign over the land?"

"What’s your point?"

Hongtian flicked his cigarette ash, his single eye fixed on Boss Nie with a mocking glint.

---

Daxia, Mobei City.

A desolate expanse of wilderness.

"Boss, how many men do you need?"

Kim Jung-ho hefted a three-section staff, leading a massive crowd behind him.

A rough estimate put their numbers at four to five hundred.

An Yi raised an eyebrow. "This many?"

With a force like this, they could practically ransack the immortal sect’s pocket dimension.

After all, the people there weren’t all that formidable.

Take Mu Qingyi—she seemed to be at the Xujin level.

Of course, this was just An Yi’s speculation. He’d never actually fought her.

"Nah, just worried about your safety, Boss!"

Xiao Yike said earnestly, dragging over the sleeping Bai Xiu. "Besides, Brother Bai decided to come too."

"You sure about that?"

An Yi glanced at Bai Xiu skeptically.

"Uh… maybe?"

Xiao Yike sounded less confident. He’d included Bai Xiu in the headcount while rounding up the troops.

After all, Bai Xiu—who had overpowered Gilupa—was undeniably their strongest fighter.

An Yi narrowed his eyes. He’d bet Bai Xiu didn’t even know he was in Mobei.

The three-month deadline had passed.

Shen Muxuan showed no signs of returning.

An Yi had a gut feeling something was wrong, so he decided to head to the immortal sect’s pocket dimension himself.

The coordinates had been coaxed out of Grandma Bai.

Now, as the leader of the Asura Sect, venturing into the perilous pocket dimension alone was out of the question.

Naturally, his people wouldn’t allow it.

But the Asura Sect’s base was still under construction—Shangguan Qianqian, Chen Bing, and the others couldn’t leave.

The Netherworld was in ruins, and Lin Chen had gone to its central headquarters.

Xiao Ye was stuck at the café, claiming he couldn’t get time off.

Fang Jueming was in Yunzhou, locked in seclusion for brutal training.

Others—like Gene the Mechanic, Kevin the Gunslinger, Bob the Poison Master, and Mo Jiu—were all tied up with their own affairs.

As for Hongtian? Who the hell knew where he’d wandered off to.

So, An Yi casually mentioned his plan.

Unexpectedly, the response was overwhelming.

A horde of hot-blooded men volunteered to follow him, ready to shed blood and sacrifice themselves for his safety.

And no, this had absolutely nothing to do with An Yi having the complete version of the potion!

"All four hundred of you are elite warriors I’ve handpicked!"

An Yi declared solemnly, scanning the crowd.

Internally, he added, Just a bunch of idle troublemakers!

The useful, hardworking members were too busy with the base to play bodyguard.

"Next, we’re heading to the immortal sect’s pocket dimension. Are you afraid?"

His sharp gaze swept over them.

"NO!"

The roar of the crowd shook the air.

Damn, this is what it feels like to be the Boss!

An Yi basked in the adulation.

Why bother doing everything himself when he had an army at his command?

Next stop—leading four hundred elites to conquer the pocket dimension!

Anyone who looked at him wrong was getting wrecked!

Just as An Yi was about to rally them further—

"Boss! L-look at the sky!" Han Liang stammered, pointing upward.

A crack split the void.

Like a mirage, yet tangible.

The sight left everyone stunned.

Such a vivid illusion was unheard of.

Whoosh!

A bullet shot toward it—only to bounce off the barrier.

An Yi tossed the gun aside, frowning.

"No way in? Guess Grandma Bai was right—you really do need a token."

No.

He had Lockpicking.

Refusing to accept defeat, An Yi’s legs ignited with flames as he reached for the skyward barrier.

Max-level Lockpicking activated!

It worked!

An Yi marveled at the skill’s power—just before getting sucked in.

"OH SHI—"

The Asura Sect members stared blankly at the spot where their Boss had vanished.

"Boss… is gone."