Martial Sovereign of the Turbulent World

Chapter 183: Chapter 181: "True Dragon’s Grand Dream," Demon Commander (Part 1)

As Fu Juemin slowly descended from the Xuanwu Platform, the commotion below was already starting to die down.

The Blue-clothed Gang’s Leader, Bai Hexing, left a group of his men behind and departed in a hurry, his face grim.

He had intended to follow in Luo Chengying’s wake and get a piece of the pie, but not only did he fail to get a single bite, he got several of his own teeth knocked out. He couldn’t just abandon the men he’d left to take the fall, but bailing them out of the Public Security Bureau’s jail would cost a fortune. As for the exact price, he’d have to negotiate with the bureau later. It was sure to cost him an arm and a leg.

As for the members of the Martial Arts circles, not counting those who had been killed on the spot by cannon fire, every last one who had participated in setting up the challenge was taken away.

This was the first time Fu Juemin had felt it so acutely—the era of the Martial Dao, an age where fists and feet determined one’s place in the world, was coming to an irreversible end.

No fewer than ten Tongxuan Realm Martial Artists from the Martial Arts circles were shackled and cuffed by He Renli’s men. Like defeated roosters, they docilely and silently lined up to be escorted away.

With just a bit of effort, they could have easily snapped their bonds. And though there were many guns on site, with the reflexes and speed of a Tongxuan Martial Artist, it wasn’t entirely impossible for them to brave a hail of bullets and escape.

But no one dared to move.

The reasons—

First, most of them had lost their nerve, terrified by the earlier cannon fire.

In Fu Juemin’s eyes, the two "Fire God Cannons" He Renli possessed were little more than crude, primitive versions of the rocket launchers from his past life. Their accuracy was abysmal; if one were actually aimed at a Tongxuan Martial Artist, it was doubtful it would even hit its mark.

But the members of the Martial Arts circles had limited knowledge and were unaware of this. All they knew was that the Western World’s cannons were terrifyingly powerful, and that no flesh-and-blood body could withstand their might.

Second...

Every Martial Artist present had a family and a livelihood. They had droves of disciples who depended on them, and large families to support.

It would be exhilarating to break their bonds and fight their way out, but what then?

They would become wanted fugitives, and their families and friends would be dragged down with them.

This was Shenghai!

They didn’t dare, and couldn’t, resist.

As Fu Juemin stepped off the platform, the Kitties came forward and draped a brand-new Western-style suit over his shoulders.

Madam Ding was speaking with He Renli. Fu Juemin walked up to them, called out, "Aunt Ding," and then greeted He Renli. "Minister He."

"Moshan, is this that nephew of yours?"

He Renli squinted, looking Fu Juemin up and down. He was clearly in an excellent mood; his expression was as pleasant as a spring breeze, making him seem rather affable.

After all, even though he had been helping the Qinglian Gang out of a bind, he was the one who had completely stolen the spotlight, and he had reaped countless benefits both inside and out.

"A young hero. A truly formidable youth."

He Renli patted Fu Juemin’s shoulder like a family elder, his face filled with admiration. But then his tone shifted. "However, this whole Martial Arts thing... it’s fine to practice as a pastime, but don’t take it too seriously..."

As he spoke, He Renli’s gaze subtly flickered toward a direction not far away. With a grin, he said, "You’ve seen it for yourself. What’s the use of practicing Martial Arts to the highest level? When they come up against firearms from the Western World... aren’t they all just a bunch of beaten dogs?"

Fu Juemin followed He Renli’s gaze and saw Zhao Jigang standing there, expressionless, surrounded by just a few followers.

Zhao Jigang was not on He Renli’s list of "arrests."

He Renli was keenly aware of the situation and managed the boundaries better than anyone. Zhao Jigang hailed from a Gratitude Sensing Realm Martial Family; if truly pushed to the brink, no one present would likely be able to stop him. Besides, didn’t someone influential from the Martial Arts circles need to be left behind to spearhead the fundraising?

"You are right, Uncle He."

Fu Juemin looked away, his expression calm as he nodded. "Lingjun will remember that."

Seeing his "obedient and sensible" demeanor, He Renli nodded in satisfaction. He exchanged a few more pleasantries with Madam Ding and then departed swiftly with his large entourage. In addition to taking the prisoners back, he also needed to investigate the source of the loud explosions from earlier.

The moment He Renli was gone, a member of the Qinglian Gang immediately approached, leaning in to whisper a brief report in Madam Ding’s ear.

After listening, a glint flashed in Madam Ding’s eyes. She immediately called to Fu Juemin, "Get in the car."

Fu Juemin was momentarily startled, but he did as he was told and got in.

"Aunt Ding, where are we going?"

In the car, Fu Juemin couldn’t help but ask.

"First, back to Ink Garden to switch cars."

Madam Ding looked at him, paused for a moment, and then slowly revealed their destination. "Haven’t you always wanted to meet Master Huai Kong? I’m taking you to him now."

...

Back at the Xuanwu Platform, as the various powers receded like the tide, the once magnificent and thunderous scene was now nothing but a desolate mess.

Around the square, the dense throngs of spectators gradually dispersed, heading off in search of the next big commotion.

Only a few reporters from the tabloids remained, their cameras still clicking away. One could only imagine what sensational headlines would grace the front pages of Shenghai’s major newspapers the next day.

Zhao Jigang stood alone and motionless below the platform, his head tilted slightly up at the pale, weak-looking sun.

Gradually, the family members of the Martial Arts practitioners who remained began to gather around him. Their tearful voices were filled with accusations and questions as they closed in on him.

"Chairman Zhao! What are we supposed to do now? You tell us!"

"My husband has been taken away! When is he getting out? You have to give us a straight answer!"

"Exactly! You’re the guild leader! We all respect and listen to you. You can’t just abandon us now that there’s trouble!"

"Zhao Jigang, this is all because of you and your son! You have to see this through to the end!"

Zhao Jigang slowly lowered his gaze from the sky, his eyes sweeping over the surrounding faces—some grieving, some furious, some accusatory, some resentful.

Just then, a woman in hemp mourning garments, her eyes swollen and red, lunged forward. She gripped Zhao Jigang’s sleeve, her nails digging into his arm, and spat through clenched teeth, "Zhao! Because of your son, my father died!

And now, because of you, my husband is dead too, and there wasn’t even a whole body left...

You have to give me an answer today!"

"An answer..."

Zhao Jigang lowered his eyes to the hysterical woman before him, softly murmuring those two words.

Suddenly, he nonchalantly raised a hand and, as if swatting a mosquito, pressed it lightly against the woman’s forehead.

The woman’s voice died instantly. Her eyes shot wide open as dark red blood trickled from her seven orifices.

Without even a sound, she collapsed stiffly to the ground, utterly still.

The cacophony of angry accusations immediately ceased. Everyone stared at Zhao Jigang, their faces frozen in horror.

"Rest assured."

Zhao Jigang looked impassively at the rest of the crowd and said in a soft, gentle voice, "Regarding this matter, I will be sure to give you all an answer."

Without another glance at the woman’s corpse at his feet, he clasped his hands behind his back and slowly, step by step, walked out of the deathly-silent encirclement.

.......

A sapphire-blue, luxury J-type sedan sped along the smooth, well-kept road lining the riverbank. The engine’s massive roar, like that of a wild beast, mingled with the sound of the surging tide.

Luo Chengying sat ramrod straight in the back seat, his eyes closed. The window reflected the cold, grim profile of his face.

Soon, the car came to a stop before a tall, thick concrete wall topped with layers of barbed wire.

At the main gate, guards in mustard-yellow uniforms stood at attention, rifles in hand. After recognizing the license plate, they immediately snapped to a salute and removed the roadblock, obviously well aware of the identity of the car’s occupant.

This was a massive military base encased in layer upon layer of defensive fortifications. This was the Jianghai Defense Command, the most restricted and forbidden zone in all of Shenghai.

The sedan drove straight through, passing checkpoint after checkpoint. It followed a gravel road, packed down by countless military boots and tires, heading directly for the innermost part of the headquarters.

Finally, the car stopped in front of a beautiful, distinctly Western-style building.

This area was far from the hustle and coarseness of the military barracks. Shrouded by trees, it was almost eerily quiet; even patrolling guards were a rare sight. It was like a carefully cordoned-off paradise within the steel-and-concrete fortress.

Luo Chengying pushed open the car door and strode into the building.

He passed through a foyer laid with a crimson carpet and wide corridors where displays of ivory, chiming clocks, porcelain from the Western World, sabers, and rifles lined the walls. At last, Luo Chengying stopped before a pair of heavy, gilded doors.

He took a deep breath and shoved them open.

From within, the sound of women’s flirtatious laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses immediately washed over him...