Yellow Hair's punch was pinned easily between Shan Hu's two fingers—his index and middle—as if they were clamping down on a soft piece of pastry.
"Crunch." That sound of impact froze the entire alley.
The woman in the white dress gasped, her pupils dilating. She knew how hard Tiger Brother's fists were; he'd trained on sandbags and beer bottles. Yet, this random guy in a T-shirt had neutralized him with two fingers.
Even more terrifying was Yellow Hair's face, now slick with instant sweat. It wasn't pain that did it, but the horrifying pressure emanating from those two fingers, threatening to grind his bones into dust.
"The second option is I break all your limbs, make you beg like a dog, and then you leave." Shan Hu's voice was still light, almost teasing, as if discussing the weather.
He tightened his grip slightly.
"AARRGGHHH!!!"
Yellow Hair let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered. This was a force no mortal could withstand. He felt his finger bones fracturing piece by piece, the agony bringing tears and snot streaming down his face.
"Sto-stop! I'm sorry, Big Brother! Mercy!" Yellow Hair was utterly broken. His street toughness was as fragile as tissue paper in the face of absolute power.
Shan Hu wrinkled his nose in distaste and let go. Yellow Hair collapsed onto the ground like a ragdoll, clutching his ruined fist and howling in pain.
The two lackeys were dumbstruck. Their Tiger Brother—the notorious enforcer of this area—was taken out by two fingers? This wasn't human; this was something else.
Shan Hu glanced at the two terrified thugs and asked slowly, "So, which option are you guys picking?"
They didn't need to think. They scrambled over to the woman in white and dropped to their knees with a thud.
"We're so sorry, Miss! We messed up! Please forgive us!"
"Get lost." Shan Hu waved his hand dismissively, like swatting flies.
The two thugs grabbed the still-screaming Yellow Hair and stumbled out of the alley, not daring to look back.
The entire conflict was over in less than thirty seconds—a dramatic, crushing victory.
Shan Hu finally turned to face the woman.
She quickly hid the smashed cardboard box behind her, looking up at him nervously.
"Are you alright?" Shan Hu's voice softened considerably. He examined her face; she wasn't his biological sister, but that seventy percent similarity gave him a strange, profound sense of kinship.
"I—I'm fine, thank you. You're like… a hero," she stammered, still trembling from the ordeal.
Shan Hu chuckled at the word "hero." "A hero? I haven't been called that in about a thousand years. Just call me Shan Hu."
He pointed at the box behind her. Shan Hu could detect a faint, pulsing spiritual energy from within.
"What's in the box? You seem pretty protective of it."
She hesitated, then brought out the box. Inside was a dying orchid, its petals withered, but the root still faintly glowed with a pale green light.
"My dad left this. He called it a 'Spirit Grass' that he picked on a mountain. My brother is in the hospital, and I was going to sell this orchid to raise emergency money, but then they smashed the box." The woman's eyes welled up with tears.
"Spirit Grass?" Shan Hu burst into silent laughter.
This was no "Spirit Grass." This was the lowest grade "Spirit-Nourishing Herb" in the cultivation world—worthless, except as a snack for low-level cultivators, or for brewing the most basic vital energy pills. Back in the Emperor Realm, they were sold by the pound, and his own spirit beasts refused to eat them.
Still, for it to survive ten years in Earth's depleted environment was a small miracle.
"Alright, stop crying." Shan Hu extended two fingers and gently plucked a minute thread of spiritual energy from the herb's root.
He then injected that energy thread directly into the woman's forehead.
"Listen, your brother will be fully recovered in three days. And don't sell that herb; find a pot for it. It might bring you a little bit of good luck in ten years."
The woman only felt a brief coolness on her forehead, followed by a warm current spreading through her body. She stared at Shan Hu, confused by his claim of "full recovery," but her body felt instantly lighter and more relaxed, as if cleansed by an unseen force.
"Are you… a deity?" she whispered.
Shan Hu gave a light laugh, shrugging. "Deity? Close enough. But right now, I'm more interested in being a mortal—and going home for dinner."
"By the way, what's your name?" Shan Hu asked casually.
"I'm Qin Wan."
"Qin Wan. Good. If anyone ever tries to mess with you again, just drop my name: Shan Hu."
With a confident, easy gesture, Shan Hu turned and vanished in a few blinks, leaving Qin Wan standing alone, clutching the mysterious herb in awe.
Shan Hu crossed the alley and stepped onto the familiar street.
"Ten years. Finally going home." Shan Hu took a deep breath and headed in the direction he remembered.
His parents' apartment was in an old housing complex, just a few hundred meters away. Shan Hu didn't use any Emperor Force, choosing instead to walk the distance with a mortal's pace. He wanted to savor the accelerated heartbeat and nervous anticipation that only a mortal could feel.
He deliberately suppressed the memories of a thousand years of carnage, deception, and galactic wars. Right now, he was just a son returning home after a decade, filled with regret and hope.
Soon, he stood before the familiar six-story building. Third floor, east side. His home.
Shan Hu raised his hand to ring the bell, but stopped.
"The Immortal Emperor can't return empty-handed, can he? I can't just walk in and say, 'Mom and Dad, I cultivated for a thousand years, I'm an Emperor now, here's a promise of immortality'?"
That would be utterly boring and humorless.
Shan Hu pondered, then decided to use his Emperor-level skills for a "small surprise" for the family.
He didn't head to any store. Instead, he simply extended his finger and traced a complex rune in the air—the "Micro-Dust Spirit Gathering Array."
In the Immortal Realm, this was used to siphon stellar essence. Here, he merely compressed it into an invisible core, activating every usable speck of spiritual energy within a hundred-meter radius.
The scattered, thin spiritual particles in the air instantly coalesced, condensing into ten thumb-sized "Spirit Jades" with a gentle luster, dropping silently into Shan Hu's palm.
These "Spirit Jades" were useless stones to him, but for mortals, they could prolong life if placed under a pillow, breed miracle fish if put in an aquarium, or nourish rare herbs if potted.
Shan Hu pocketed the "Spirit Jades" and tapped his ring lightly. A flash of white light, and a plain-looking Mortal Storage Ring appeared on his finger. Inside, he had stashed a few "trinkets" he'd picked up in the Immortal Realm:
A few low-grade artifacts he'd deemed failures (which could pass as ancient artistic relics).
A flask of failed elixir pills (which would make any mortal completely immune to all diseases).
Satisfied, Shan Hu finally pressed the doorbell.
"Ding-dong—"
A familiar, energetic female voice rang out from inside: "Who is it? Another insurance salesman? Let me tell you, we don't need any!"
It was his sister, Shan Qing!
A huge smile spread across Shan Hu's face. He knew his little devil of a sister would still be as witty and spirited as ever, ten years later.
"It's not an insurance salesman." Shan Hu's voice was filled with laughter and barely concealed excitement.
"Then who is it?"
"It's your brother."
Three seconds of silence followed.
"Huh? My brother? My brother went missing ten years ago! The rumor is he was kidnapped and taken to the mountains to dig coal! Who are you, impersonating my brother!" Shan Qing's voice was filled with suspicion.
Shan Hu shook his head helplessly, but his face was radiating happiness. A thousand years, and being roasted by his sister felt this good!
"Shan Qing, check your brother's ID." Shan Hu pulled out his ID card from ten years ago from the Mortal Storage Ring and slid it through the peephole.
There was a frantic shuffling sound inside, and Shan Qing's voice suddenly turned into a shocked, tearful cry: "Dad! Mom! Come look!"