Chapter 47: The Chaotic City of Jiangzhou

Chen Meng glanced at the villager beside him. The man stood nearly two meters tall, towering over Chen Meng by almost a head, with muscles on his arms like mountain peaks—a person who exuded sheer strength at a glance.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances,” the old man remarked casually. “He’s just the village blacksmith, an ordinary fellow who merely looks strong.”

“Squeak, squeak!” Mouse Beibei called out, scurrying over as well.

The old man noticed Mouse Beibei and eyed it with some curiosity. “So, this is a mouse that’s awakened intelligence? Interesting. No wonder the cultists are after you. Such a mouse does have its uses on the other side of the Wildlands.”

Hearing this, Chen Meng quickly interjected, “More than just useful—she’s crucial to our human strategy in the Wildlands! Have you heard of Mouse King Ridge? If Beibei becomes the Mouse King there, the whole ridge will belong to us, and we could set up nuclear warheads to deter the Crescent Empire. Grandpa, so you really don’t need to hide anymore. Once you’ve protected us, the country will surely reward you. At the very least, you’ll get an honorary citizen’s medal. Just imagine hanging it in your martial arts hall—how glorious, what prestige!”

Chen Meng didn’t actually understand much of this; he was simply repeating what Han Hao had told him, now using it to try to persuade the old man.

The old man chuckled. “And who filled your head with that nonsense? You believe everything you hear? I’ll admit, if this mouse grows up, she could have some influence in the Wildlands. But do you know what level the current Mouse King at Mouse King Ridge is? By the time this little one grows enough to challenge him, who knows how many years will have passed? Besides, humans never place their hopes for survival on such unreliable prospects.”

Chen Meng was dumbfounded. This wasn’t what he’d been led to believe.

The old man continued, “If this little mouse were truly so important, the director of Xianzhou’s Law Enforcement Bureau would have come in person. As it stands, maybe only the Animal Protection Association would pay her any mind.”

Chen Meng fell silent. Had they all overestimated their own importance?

That was indeed the truth—Mouse Beibei was merely a potential candidate. Important in some respects, not so much in others.

Having realized this, Chen Meng smiled faintly. “Old man, you know all this so well and still claim you’re not some hidden big shot? Enough pretense—just come clean already.”

Mouse Beibei nodded as well; the old man certainly seemed formidable.

The old man cast a scornful look at Chen Meng. “Don’t you ever watch the news? All of this has been reported for years.”

News?

Chen Meng felt exasperated. No wonder even the blacksmith had looked at him like some country bumpkin—so all this was common knowledge?

“Well, you’re here now. Come into the village. Sigh, this time you might get the old man killed,” the old man grumbled, riding his little electric scooter to lead the way.

Chen Meng followed behind, and, reassured that Jiang Lan hadn’t trailed them, finally relaxed a little.

At least, for now, they were safe.

“How should I address you?” Chen Meng asked the burly blacksmith.

“Me? Just call me Uncle Iron,” the big man replied with a simple honesty.

“Oh?” Chen Meng was puzzled. “Isn’t this Hong Family Village? Why aren’t you surnamed Hong?”

“Who says you have to be surnamed Hong to live in Hong Family Village? Except for the old man, none of the other dozens of families here are named Hong.”

Chen Meng couldn’t help but laugh. This Hong Family Village was certainly an interesting place.

Once inside the village, Chen Meng could still see the distant Great Green Mountain behind them. “What a huge mountain. What’s on it? Are there wild beasts up there?”

“There aren’t any beasts, just graves,” Uncle Iron muttered. “Come on, the old man’s house is just ahead.”

They soon arrived at the old man’s doorstep, where a modest three-room tile-roofed house stood, clearly built many years ago.

As they entered, the dog at the door began to bark.

“Shut up! If you bark again, we’ll have dog meat tomorrow,” the old man barked in return. The old mutt, terrified, tucked its tail and slunk back into its kennel.

Once inside, the old man switched on the light.

Looking around, Chen Meng thought the place was even shabbier than a martial arts hall. The main room was equally simple—just two chairs and a table with a missing corner.

As he looked around further, he noticed a wedding photo hanging on the wall.

The woman in the photo wore a red dress, entirely styled like an ancient beauty, while the man wore a white suit—visually an utterly mismatched pair.

“Hey, Grandpa, isn’t that you?” Chen Meng suddenly remarked, studying the younger version of the old man—he was actually quite handsome back then. And the woman was breathtakingly beautiful.

Clearly, the old man had once led an eventful life; Chen Meng couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration.

“What are you staring at? Never seen someone else’s wedding photo?” the old man grumbled. “Also, stop calling me Grandpa. I don’t have a grandson like you. If Hong Qing hears that, she’ll think I’ve been fooling around.”

“No worries,” Chen Meng replied with a laugh. “I’ll just say I’m your god-grandson.”

He added, “From now on, you’re my god-grandpa. Doesn’t matter if you’re poor and a mess—I happen to have a charitable heart, see this as looking after a lonely old man. When you die, I’ll make sure to mourn you in proper sackcloth.”

The old man paused, glancing at Chen Meng. “Your cheekiness does remind me of my younger days.”

What else could Chen Meng say? He decided to take it as a compliment.

“Grandpa, is there anything to eat?” he asked, as Mouse Beibei’s stomach was starting to rumble as well.

The old man thought for a moment, went into the kitchen, and came out with a plastic bag of steamed buns. “Here.”

Chen Meng squeezed one—they were rock hard. He wondered how the old man managed to eat them, but he could only make do. It was clear the old man wasn’t going to cook for them.

The old man watched Chen Meng and Mouse Beibei, then said, “Eat, and then get some sleep.”

Chen Meng chuckled to himself—could he really fall asleep right now?

…

Xianzhou City.

On the rooftops of tall buildings, shadowy figures were concealed, each one armed with a heavy sniper rifle, their scopes trained on the city of Jiangzhou, watching every move.

“Damn those cultists—they’re despicable. They just destroyed a school,” a law enforcement officer reported over his radio.

“Traitors to our kind, every last one of them,” another voice agreed.

At the city’s exit, Han Hao stood watch. He was furious—the number of cultists lurking in Jiangzhou far exceeded his expectations.

“Pull over. Submit to inspection,” Han Hao said quietly, instructing an officer to check a vehicle attempting to leave the city.

But at that moment, a man suddenly bolted from the car, sprinting into the nearby undergrowth. With a few leaps, he was over a hundred meters away.

Such speed—twenty meters per second—meant he’d fully absorbed the advancement serum.

“Utter lawlessness,” Han Hao muttered. He hadn’t expected the cultists to be so brazen as to try escaping in broad daylight.

Bang!

A shot echoed. A sniper from the law enforcement bureau, concealed on a steep embankment beside the highway, fired and sent the man tumbling into a roadside ditch.

Han Hao rushed over, but the man wasn’t dead. Instead, he sprang up and slashed at Han Hao’s throat with a knife.

“Cultist. You deserve death,” Han Hao growled, seizing the man’s wrist and crushing the bones with a brutal squeeze.

The man screamed, kicking at Han Hao’s abdomen, but Han Hao twisted the knife from his grip and slashed down hard on the man’s thigh.

Rip!

The blow severed an entire leg.

Still, the man tried to draw a gun, but Han Hao gave him no chance. He hauled the man from the ditch and, like cracking a whip, flung him violently onto the road.

Crack!

The impact split the asphalt; the man’s bones shattered, yet he remained alive, though he could no longer move.

“The Crescent rises; the Holy Church endures!” the man chanted, gazing at the moon above.

Han Hao, task done, reported into his radio, “Director, captured a cultist at the Changfeng exit.”

On the other end, Wu Tengkong showed no excitement—only gravity. “The cultists’ response this time is overwhelming. It seems they’ve been holding back for a long while.”

Time passed slowly, and soon it was the latter half of the night.

Throughout Xianzhou, peace was elusive that night; many citizens spent it in fear, while Jiangzhou’s TV station broadcast calming news bulletins nonstop.

Around four in the morning, Han Hao’s radio crackled with urgency.

“Maple Forest Road exit is lost! A fourth-tier divine body cultist has broken through our defenses, heading toward Great Green Mountain!”

“Damn it!” Han Hao cursed, abandoning all else as he piloted his hovercar toward Great Green Mountain.

…

“A fourth-tier divine body,” Wu Tengkong murmured. In a flash, his figure tore through the air with a thunderous sonic boom.

For Wu Tengkong, a fourth-tier divine body was significant—such figures were upper-middle ranks within the cult.

Boom!

The ground where he’d just stood collapsed as if struck by a missile.

He accelerated to a speed of a thousand meters per second—the hallmark of a fifth-tier divine body.

In less than three minutes, he sped from Jiangzhou’s city center to the Maple Forest Road exit, which was less than thirty kilometers from Great Green Mountain.

“Where is he?” His eyes glowed faint blue in the darkness, unhindered by night—he could see everything within ten miles.

Like an eagle, he scanned for the fourth-tier cultist, soon spotting a man vaulting through the air.

“Found you.”

He drew a dagger and flung it. The blade sliced through space, gleaming coldly, and in a blink crossed ten miles to pierce the man’s chest.

The man screamed, tumbling more than a hundred meters, but clutching his chest, he rose again—still alive, even though his lungs were shredded.