Chapter 71: No Mercy

Chapter Seventy-One: No Mercy

Let us turn back the clock to ten minutes earlier. While Dick and Valentine were engaged in conversation, Xia Zheng finally sensed the mental energy of the Dream Fox and roused her from unconsciousness.

“How are you? Is everyone all right?” Xia Zheng asked.

“Master, we’re fine. Where are you?” Dream Fox replied anxiously.

With utmost care, Xia Zheng manipulated his spiritual power, shaping it into a sharp blade to cut a hole in the floor beneath the wooden hut where they were imprisoned.

“I’m right below you. Have Claire and Zhang Ziqi woken up?” he asked.

Dream Fox glanced back at the two and answered, “Not yet. My constitution is much stronger than theirs.”

“Good. You send them down one by one, then transform yourself and come down as well. I’ve already dug the tunnel. Once you’re all through, return and find a woman named Nalan Sheng. She is trustworthy. Don’t believe anyone else—let her lead you to safety,” Xia Zheng instructed.

He carefully examined the two women Dream Fox sent down. Thankfully, neither bore any wounds. After Dream Fox reverted to her true form and descended, there was no time to lose—they had to escape immediately.

Dream Fox let Xia Zheng place Claire and Zhang Ziqi on her back, then carried them away. Xia Zheng replaced the three of them with three captured wild boars, overlaying his memory of their appearances onto the animals. This ruse, however, would only last a short while.

Now, as we return to the present, Xia Zheng could feel his consciousness locked in battle with Tyron’s stubborn will. Dragging Tyron’s unconscious body deeper into the hills, he knew it would take considerable effort to gain complete control over the man.

Five minutes after his departure, Valentine arrived at the scene, but found only chaos—no wounded, no bodies, and barely a trace of their escape.

“Could Tyron have…?” Valentine dared not imagine further. His own power was inferior to Tyron’s. If Tyron had been injured, then…

Without hesitation, Valentine produced a talisman from his breast pocket, resembling an ancient coin, engraved with the image of two sphinxes crossing weapons—the emblem of the Hoffman family.

“With my blood, I seek my kin,” Valentine intoned, biting his finger and letting a drop of blood fall onto the talisman. It absorbed the blood and immediately emitted a brilliant glow, flashing rapidly before revealing a message: “2.7 kilometers, two o’clock.”

Valentine quickly pocketed the talisman and raced off. This was a secret technique all Hoffman family members used if separated in the wild—“Bloodline Tracking”—allowing them to locate the nearest relative within a hundred kilometers.

He accelerated, drawing a revolver from his belt, and with his other hand, retrieved two bullets from his inner pocket. The bullets were inscribed with mystical runes, and he loaded them into the weapon.

“This Xia Zheng is young, yet formidable and ruthless—rare indeed. Given time, he could become a true powerhouse. But today, he made the fatal mistake of offending the Hoffman family before he was ready. The foundation of a noble house is beyond the imagination of a mere commoner.”

Soon, Valentine spotted Tyron’s trail.

Tyron stood rigidly, arms slack by his sides, as if waiting for him—an eerie sight.

“Tyron, are you all right?” Valentine hurried over.

“Uh…” Tyron raised his head and uttered an indistinct sound. As Valentine drew near, he noticed Tyron’s pupils had lost their luster, shrouded in a grey haze, and his expression was chillingly stiff.

Swish!

Tyron struck without warning. Valentine parried, but the force of the blow drove him back. Tyron attacked with wild abandon, fighting as if his life depended on it.

“Tyron, what’s gotten into you? I’m your brother!” Valentine shouted desperately. There was still no sign of Xia Zheng, and this bizarre confrontation only deepened his sense of dread toward the young man.

Their fists collided again and again. Tyron, weakened by his wounds, eventually coughed up blood and collapsed, unable to rise.

Valentine was not unscathed. Tyron’s relentless, self-destructive assault had left him battered and drained.

“Xia Zheng! If you’re a man, come out and face me! Stop hiding behind these despicable tricks!” Valentine roared into the empty air.

A voice answered, “Does the Hoffman family produce heroes?”

As Xia Zheng’s figure slowly materialized, less than twenty meters away, Valentine sneered inwardly. “So young and so easily goaded—fool. Time to die!”

He raised his arm and fired. At such close range, so swift was his draw that Xia Zheng was struck instantly.

Before their eyes, Xia Zheng was bound by glowing runes, unable to move, his body swelling grotesquely.

“What is this?” Xia Zheng cried out in terror.

Valentine replied coldly, “A cursed bullet. Certain death, fool!”

“You—” Xia Zheng exploded, leaving nothing but carnage in his wake. Valentine exhaled a sigh of relief. At last, the troublesome youth was dead, though at a steep cost.

He hurried to Tyron, helping him up as Tyron slowly recovered.

“Dick is badly wounded. We’re sure to be punished for this. Luckily, I eliminated the main culprit—perhaps that will count in our favor.”

“That’s it?” Tyron grumbled in dissatisfaction.

Valentine shook his head, sneering. “Of course not. The boy is dead, but doesn’t he have friends and family? They’ll die too.”

“Won’t that cause too much trouble? I heard the boy once caught the attention of the military—he could have been a special recruit,” Tyron hesitated.

Valentine found it odd that Tyron knew so much about Xia Zheng, but replied out of habit, “That was then. Now that he’s dead, the military can’t do much. At worst, we’ll pay some compensation. Besides, our family has its own prodigies in the military. Who matters more—a dead genius, or a living one? I think the higher-ups know the answer.”

“So, whoever survives is worth more, is that it?” Tyron’s words made Valentine suddenly wary, but before he could react, pain shot through his chest. He looked down to see the tip of a blade protruding from his heart.

He looked up at Tyron’s face, only to see it morphing into Xia Zheng’s.

“You’re… not…” Valentine gasped.

Xia Zheng gave a soft “Oh,” and explained, “That was your brother just now. Sorry, I borrowed his body and controlled his will.”

“You… so ruthless…” Valentine collapsed, overwhelmed by a sense of bleakness. That he and Tyron should die at the hands of someone so young… He had warned Dick to beware, not to underestimate this foe, but he himself had been careless.

After killing him, Xia Zheng searched Valentine’s body, taking the gun and bullets. Using soul-forging arts, he extracted fragments of memory from the freshly dead man’s mind, then conjured spiritual flames to incinerate both Valentine and Tyron’s remains.

From Tyron, he’d also absorbed some memories, especially those concerning his skills.

“Perhaps sparing Dick wasn’t such a good idea,” Xia Zheng mused. He unfurled his spiritual wings and soared skyward, swallowing an energy fruit as he flew.

Scanning with his mind, he soon located a vehicle heading toward the city of Dannute. The car moved slowly, likely to avoid jostling its passengers.

“Perfect.” Xia Zheng beat his wings and sped in that direction.

Inside the car, the unconscious Dick was being rushed to the city hospital by several attendants. One was on the phone with Mandel.

“What? Most of the team is dead or wounded, and Dick is gravely injured? What happened to Tyron and Valentine?” Mandel, apparently at a banquet, rushed outside upon hearing the dire news.

The subordinate explained that the two were in pursuit of Xia Zheng and should soon return, having taken care of him.

“Fine. Bring Dick back to me. Once they return with that boy’s corpse, I’ll deal with the rest of you idiots,” Mandel said. His men glanced nervously at the caller, morale at rock bottom.

Then, the driver pointed out the window. “What’s that? Something’s following us.”

“What?” Several heads turned, and in the sky behind them, a streak of light pursued their car.

“It… it looks like a person…” someone realized.

On the other end, Mandel anxiously asked, “What’s happening?”

“Sir, it’s bad. That boy may have caught up with us. The other two may have been killed as well.”

“That’s impossible—” Mandel began to rage, but a violent explosion sounded on the line, and then the call was cut off.

Mandel’s face went pale. Gritting his teeth, he called his men and ordered everyone in the city to the scene.

The flames consumed everyone in the car, reducing the vehicle to fragments.

Above, Xia Zheng scanned the wreckage with his mind, then lost interest and circled around into Dannute city.

Dream Fox, Claire, and Zhang Ziqi had already found Nalan Sheng. The four women were waiting for his return.

When he reappeared before them, calm and unhurried, the news of the Hoffman family’s massacre had just begun to spread.

In a high-rise office of the Nalan family’s city enterprise, Nalan Yun held the latest intelligence in trembling hands. He went to a door, knocked, and entered.

“Father, that boy… he killed Dick, Tyron, Valentine, and their followers—at least fifty people…” Nalan Yun handed the report to Nalan Zheng.

Nalan Zheng read it over several times, then sighed. “He’s making a statement—a warning to any who dare threaten his loved ones. That’s the price. Such ruthless means, so uncommon. It seems the Hoffman family has met their bane.”

“Hmph. He’s just a commoner. How could he oppose a noble house?” Nalan Yun sneered.

Nalan Zheng shook his head. “You still underestimate him. Let us wait and see. This is a true hawk among men—to accomplish such a feat at his age.”

Meanwhile, outside the city, Mandel stood before a pile of ashes, on the verge of tears. His son Dick, two kinsmen—all three were A-rank espers, yet all had perished at the hands of a single man.

He himself was not even an A-rank, and none of his remaining men were either. For the first time, Mandel felt a chill of fear. He picked up his phone and dialed his distant family’s number.