The moonlight shone on their faces, and Yu Daochen stared at Yang Yuan. "You know he killed someone."
Yang Yuan glanced at the moonlight outside the window and nodded. "The first time I saw him after the incident, I noticed a female ghost following him."
Yu Daochen said nothing and stood up, heading for the balcony. Yang Yuan turned and called out to him, "Master Yu, I will report this incident to my superiors as the work of an evil spirit."
Yu Daochen paused, then walked to the balcony, placed a hand on the railing, and leaped down.
This was how their line of work was. Knowing someone had killed, yet being unable to accuse them. There were rules in their world; they couldn't interfere with matters that weren't supernatural.
At three in the morning, Yu Daochen gazed at the moon, shaking his head in resignation. Suddenly, a figure flashed past him. A scent of blood tightened the senses of the drowsy Yu Daochen. He looked at the figure and gave chase.
The figure ran into a narrow alley. As Yu Daochen pursued, a short blade lunged directly for his throat.
Yu Daochen's expression changed. As he retreated, he condensed a layer of rock-like material around his right hand, grabbing the incoming blade. Simultaneously, his left hand gathered a ball of golden gas and struck.
In the dark alley, a palm emerged and collided with Yu Daochen's.
Yu Daochen's face contorted in shock. His entire body was sent flying backward, crashing against the wall. He pushed himself up, leaning against the wall, and felt an excruciating pain in his left arm, as if it were splitting apart. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
The figure emerged from the dark alley. In the lamplight, Yu Daochen finally saw the person clearly: a man around thirty, dressed in black, with a pale complexion. A fierce beast's eye pattern was drawn on his forehead.
The man walked to face Yu Daochen, repeatedly muttering, "My King has awakened. The world's order must change."
Yu Daochen stared intently at the man opposite him. Suddenly, a sound like a struck bronze bell echoed from somewhere.
A strange smile spread across the man's face. He cackled and retreated step by step into the alley behind him, repeating, "My King has awakened. The world's order must change." Then, the man vanished into the darkness of the alley.
Yu Daochen stared at the spot where the man had disappeared. As he raised his left hand, a piercing pain made him grit his teeth.
Yu Daochen condensed a faint golden gas at his right fingertip and pressed it against an acupoint on his left arm. As he took a step forward, he realized something was wrong. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he turned and rushed towards Yang Yuan's home.
When he reached the building where Yang Yuan lived, a strong smell of blood assaulted his senses. Some of the potted plants on the balcony had fallen to the ground. Yu Daochen's heart tightened as he looked up at the second floor.
Suddenly, a voice came from beside him. "Master Yu, what are you doing here?"
Yu Daochen turned to see Biao Tao speaking. "Yang Yuan, did he..."
Biao Tao nodded, his face grim. "The entire family was stabbed more than ten times and hung in the living room."
Yu Daochen felt as if his heart had been struck by a hammer. He couldn't believe his ears. "Do you know who did it?"
Biao Tao shook his head, his expression one of bitter distress. "No, all that was left were two lines of blood writing on the wall: 'My King has awakened. The world's order must change.'"
Yu Daochen's face grew solemn. He recounted his encounter with the man to Biao Tao, who listened with a furrowed brow.
A mobile phone ring broke their conversation. Biao Tao took out his phone, pressed the answer button, and his expression froze as he heard a single sentence.
Biao Tao hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and said in a low voice, "Old Chen in Yangzhou was also killed. His body was also hung up."
Yu Daochen stared at Biao Tao, his voice turning cold. "Old Biao, tell me the truth. Yang Yuan was your subordinate. Is his death related to the person you are protecting?"
Biao Tao slowly unclenched his fists. "That woman knew the secret of the Divine Cult."
Yu Daochen frowned. "The Divine Cult? That cult that doesn't exist?"
Legend has it that in the late Eastern Han Dynasty, a capable individual created a sinister art. Those who practiced it would develop white skin, fear sunlight, and subsist on blood. Their bodies were impervious to blades and spears, and those bitten would turn into bloodthirsty monsters.
That individual rapidly developed this sinister art, becoming the foremost evil cult, the Divine Cult. It was at this time that the patriarch of the Hu family, a shaman from the Northeast, invited a certain master who then slew him. It was after that incident that the term "Northeast Shaman" became widely known.
However, there is another theory that the person never died but fled to Europe and then vanished without a trace.
The person who created this sinister art was named Shen Tianming.
Biao Tao sighed and nodded. "You must have heard the legends of the Divine Cult. After that incident, the Divine Cult never reappeared in China. But recently, there have been reports that the Divine Cult has begun to appear in China."
Yu Daochen gave a wry smile and shook his head. He turned and walked back towards the shop, tossing back, "I'm leaving."
Under the lamplight, Yu Daochen's figure gradually disappeared into the darkness. He arrived at the street where he had fought Meng Jingbao and stared blankly at the ground that had been burned to ash.
Life was like this, powerful yet weak. Powerful enough to hold supreme authority over thousands, yet weak enough to be annihilated in an instant.
The night passed. When Yu Daochen arrived at the shop, it was already past five in the morning. As soon as he opened the door and lay down on the rocking chair, he felt an unbearable pain in his arm. In the lamplight, he saw that the joint of his arm had already begun to deform.
"This is the consequence of hiding your strength," a voice echoed from the backyard.
Yu Daochen gritted his teeth and rotated his left hand. He took a deep breath. "It's dislocated. Help me set it first."
As soon as he finished speaking, a white smoke drifted out from the backyard and wrapped around Yu Daochen's arm. With a click, Yu Daochen slumped onto the rocking chair, powerless. He exhaled. "This Divine Cult truly has a master. To dislocate my arm with a single palm strike, they must be at least of the 'Heavenly' rank."
"Outside of Jiangdu, I cannot protect you." After saying this, the voice fell silent.
Yu Daochen lay on the rocking chair, gazing at the sky, which was just beginning to brighten. Soon, sleepiness washed over him, and he slowly closed his eyes, falling asleep.
Meanwhile, on a derelict building in Yangzhou City, Xu Gensheng watched two figures below, occasionally unscrewing his wine flask for a drink.
One of the figures turned and looked up at the building. Suddenly, a dart shot towards Xu Gensheng. Xu Gensheng dodged to the left, avoiding the flying dart, and turned to walk away.
One of the figures was about to pursue but was stopped by the other. "No need. He's already run off."