Chapter 0045: As If a God of Slaughter

"Stop right there!"

Taking the elevator up to the fourth floor—the only level in this KTV not open to the public—the moment the doors slid open, four or five dozen men in suits encircled the entrance. Each exuded a steady, formidable presence, their eyes sharp and vigilant. These were Long San’s elite bodyguards, men usually dispatched to protect various wealthy businessmen and young heirs.

But tonight, Long San had summoned them all back. Deep down, Long San regarded Zhang Xiaofan with utmost seriousness. After all, this was a man who could sense a sniper’s bullet, evade it in an instant, and calmly kill his pursuers. With such skills, Long San understood that the one he meant to kill was no ordinary man.

“I’m only here for Long San. If you value your lives, get out of my way.”

Facing the crowd, Zhang Xiaofan showed no fear, his eyes icy cold. He had no desire to kill unnecessarily, but should they court death, he would not hesitate to send them to their graves.

Yet the men paid no heed. As Zhang Xiaofan stepped out of the elevator, they surged toward him like a tide, brandishing short, gleaming knives, ferocity etched on their faces—these were men with nothing to lose.

Since they sought death, they had only themselves to blame.

A chilling light flickered in Zhang Xiaofan’s eyes as his figure moved like a specter. Before the nearest man could even react, Zhang Xiaofan seized his knife and slit his throat. In the same breath, he darted forth, blood spraying in arcs as bodies crumpled in his wake—none remained standing where he passed.

Clutching their throats, blood bubbling from their lips, they quickly succumbed. Their fate was sealed the moment they chose this path. In the underworld, the weak are killed by the strong, and the strong, in turn, fall to someone mightier.

Within the city, there exists another world, governed by its own laws—the strong survive, the weak perish.

These men were formidable, their strength on par with regular armed police. But to stop him? They were utterly outmatched.

Those still alive dared not advance, terror etched on their faces as they felt death drawing near.

Ahead, a massive, solid redwood door slowly creaked open.

“I told you—I’ve come for your head.”

Zhang Xiaofan’s gaze darkened as he stared at the doorway. Standing there was an elderly man in a white tunic suit—though aged, his frame remained robust, his eyes spirited, and his wrinkled skin full of vitality.

This was Long San, the boss of the Longteng Group, the infamous Lord Long.

Zhang Xiaofan only glanced at Long San before shifting his gaze to a middle-aged man at his side, whose aura was even more formidable than Long San’s.

Of course, more than just these two emerged from the room—seven or eight other men stepped out, their movements steady, breath even, each radiating a murderous intent.

One had to admit, with subordinates like these, Long San’s crew rivaled a special forces squad. It was no wonder he held such sway in Jinghai.

“Courting death!”

At that moment, one of the men beside Long San reached for his waist, his expression murderous. Zhang Xiaofan recognized the motion instantly—he was drawing a gun.

But he was too slow. As his fingers brushed the pistol, a dark knife had already pierced his chest.

He never even saw how Zhang Xiaofan threw the blade.

So fast! Unbelievably fast!

The men with Long San were no ordinary thugs. Even after their comrade fell, they did not panic, but swiftly surrounded Zhang Xiaofan.

Words were useless—it was kill or be killed.

Zhang Xiaofan moved with the fluidity of water, each punch and kick carrying tremendous force. Each strike felled a man, his speed so great they barely had time to react.

Life drained rapidly, death pressing close. An overwhelming sense of suffocation filled the air, and Long San’s expression grew grave.

“Get Lord Long out of here!” Ah Hu barked, his face the most solemn of them all. Only he could truly sense the young man’s terrifying strength, which in an instant shattered his own confidence.

At this command, Long San’s heart sank. He possessed some skill, but Ah Hu was stronger. For years, Ah Hu had followed him, helping build his empire.

Yet now, Ah Hu was telling him to run. What did that mean? Was this young man even stronger than Ah Hu—so strong that even he was afraid?

Without hesitation, Long San turned and bolted back into the room, heading for a hidden passage—he had to escape.

Only now did he truly feel regret.

“It’s all your damn fault!”

He stormed into the room and, in a fury, roared at a man cowering in the corner—none other than Liu Xiao of the Liu family. Ever since his failed attempt to have Zhang Xiaofan killed, and the ensuing threats, Liu Xiao had lived in constant terror.

He had paid half a billion to hire Lord Long to eliminate Zhang Xiaofan.

Tonight, he was here to confirm the deed. After all, someone of Long San’s stature could not be summoned with a mere phone call.

Liu Xiao was well aware that Zhang Xiaofan was coming for him now. He’d never imagined Zhang Xiaofan would be so fierce. He now wished he could strangle his two grandsons for provoking such a harbinger of death.

But it was too late—he knew he was doomed.

Even Lord Long was fleeing for his life; what chance did Liu Xiao stand?

By now, Zhang Xiaofan had reached the doorway and spotted Liu Xiao trembling in the corner. In an instant, everything became clear—he should have killed Liu Xiao sooner.

Meanwhile, Long San hastily pressed a button, and a secret door opened.

But how could Zhang Xiaofan let him escape?

“Your opponent is me!”

At that moment, Ah Hu shouted, his fist crashing down like a hammer, carrying the weight of a thousand pounds.

Shaolin Arhat Fist!

Zhang Xiaofan recognized it instantly.

This man was channeling inner energy, granting the Arhat Fist such power. If he had to judge, this man’s strength was equivalent to an early-stage Martial Adept.

But inner energy was not spiritual energy—they could not be compared. If it were spiritual power, even Zhang Xiaofan would have to take it seriously.

In the city, such experts were rare indeed—first-rate among urban fighters.

But today, he faced Zhang Xiaofan, an early-stage Spiritual Adept—far beyond his match.

Zhang Xiaofan struck back with equal force, his speed and power more than double his foe’s. At the moment of impact, Ah Hu was sent reeling, horror on his face; his right arm hung limply, the bones shattered by that single punch.

“I respect the effort you’ve put into your cultivation. I won’t kill you. But if you stop me again, I will not show mercy.”

At the crucial moment, Zhang Xiaofan spared his life. Though Ah Hu followed Long San, he did not have the aura of a ruthless villain—likely repaying a debt of gratitude, nothing more.

A master of his caliber was not someone Long San could truly command.

With one arm crippled, Ah Hu could not fight further. He could only shake his head in resignation. Zhang Xiaofan was right—cultivation is not easy; there were higher realms to pursue.

The debt to Long San had been repaid. If Zhang Xiaofan had wanted him dead, he would already be a corpse.

By then, Long San had already vanished through the secret door.

“Think you can escape? Wishful thinking.”

Zhang Xiaofan sneered, but did not immediately give chase. Instead, he turned his gaze to Liu Xiao, who was also rushing for the exit.

You want me dead so badly? Then tonight, you’ll lose your pathetic life.

He darted forward, seizing Liu Xiao by the neck and slamming him to the floor, then pressing his foot on Liu Xiao’s head.

“Please, don’t kill me… I’ll pay you—name your price…” Liu Xiao’s face twisted with terror, his eyes wide as he stared at Zhang Xiaofan, seeing only the face of death.

“Heaven may forgive fate’s misfortune, but self-inflicted sin is unforgivable.”

A cold voice, and then a brutal kick snapped Liu Xiao’s neck. His eyes bulged, dying with bitter regret.

It took only ten seconds to kill Liu Xiao.

Zhang Xiaofan then darted through the secret door, hot on Long San’s heels. Long San wanted his life; tonight, he would die, no matter what.

On the fourth floor, from the elevator to the private room, the scent of blood hung thick in the air. The blood of the dead streamed across the floor—at least twenty lives had been taken.

Killing? They had all killed before. Anyone who served Long San had blood on their hands.

But compared to this, it was nothing.

Such one-sided slaughter showed them what true ruthlessness was, what true bloodshed meant.

Exiting the secret door, Zhang Xiaofan found a balcony. In the darkness, he saw a spiral staircase of steel rebar winding down the wall. At that moment, Long San was desperately scrambling down.

A man whose mere presence could shake Jinghai to its core now fled in utter panic—few would believe it, were they to hear.

To his credit, Long San was fast, reaching the ground in moments, frantically opening the door of a luxury sedan. But his fear made his hands tremble, and several attempts to start the engine failed.

Then, to his utter disbelief, a figure dropped from the sky.

He… he really jumped straight from the fourth floor! Was he even human?

Four floors—barely twenty meters. For Zhang Xiaofan, it was nothing. Along the way, he’d used the spiral staircase for leverage, so he landed unharmed.

Landing heavily on the hood, the force instantly buckled the metal.

In a flash, Zhang Xiaofan smashed the windshield with a punch, seized Long San by the head, and yanked him out, slamming his face onto the steering wheel. Shards of glass instantly cut Long San’s face to ribbons.

“Escape? Did you really think you could run?”

His voice was cold, the sentence of death itself.

A sickening crack.

Long San’s eyes went wide, his face twisted with unwillingness and terror.

Long San was dead—a man who had dominated Jinghai’s underworld for decades, gone just like that.

From entering the Moonlight KTV to killing Long San, less than half an hour had passed. By dawn, the entire city would be in an uproar.