Chapter 615: The Revenge for a Broken Arm and the Hatred for a Stolen Wife, Avenged at the Same Time!
Yunhu Association Headquarters.
A group of younger brothers were stunned, their faces filled with horror, looking at the scene before them in disbelief.
Zhou Yunhu!
That was Tiger Lord, Hangzhou's number one big shot in the underworld, notorious and respected by all. He was a man whose name alone could silence a room, whose reputation was built on a foundation of broken bones and shattered ambitions. For years, he had been the undisputed king of Hangzhou's underground, a figure of absolute authority. Anyone who dared to anger Tiger Lord would be directly thrown into the river, a truly tyrannical act that served as a brutal and effective deterrent to any who would challenge his rule. The West Lake was beautiful, but it held many secrets, and Zhou Yunhu was the keeper of most of them.
Yet, upon seeing this one-armed young man, Tiger Lord actually knelt on the ground, trembling, sweating profusely, his face full of fawning and ingratiation. It was a sight so jarring, so utterly contrary to the natural order of their world, that the thugs felt their minds short-circuit. Their boss, their unshakeable mountain of a leader, was prostrating himself like the lowest servant. His broad, powerful back was hunched, his head pressed to the cold floor, and his entire body quaked with a fear so profound it was almost animalistic. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the dust on the ground.
Who exactly was this one-armed young man? What kind of monster could evoke such terror in a man like Zhou Yunhu? The younger members, those on the periphery, could only stare, their mouths agape, their minds racing through a list of Hangzhou's most powerful figures, none of whom could possibly command this level of deference.
Some high-ranking Yunhu Association members who knew Zhang Zhiyun's identity also knelt on the ground, their faces ashen. They didn't hesitate. The moment Zhou Yunhu dropped, they followed, their knees hitting the hard concrete with sickening thuds. A wave of chilling dread washed over them, colder than any winter wind. They knew. They knew this one-armed figure wasn't just some random expert. This person was the Young Sect Leader of the Tianshi Sect, and the Tianshi Sect was the Yunhu Association's biggest backer, the true puppeteer pulling the strings from behind the curtain.
If not for the Tianshi Sect's support, how could the Yunhu Association have dominated the scene? They were nothing more than worldly thugs playing with guns and knives. The Tianshi Sect dealt in forces that defied comprehension, a power that could erase them from existence without leaving a trace. Zhou Yunhu was their dog, and they were the dog's fleas. If the master was displeased, the dog and the fleas would be exterminated together.
Zhou Yunhu was even more terrified than any of his men. The fear was a living thing coiling in his gut, icy and sharp. Some time ago, Zhang Zhiyun came down the mountain, and the Tianshi Sect sent an order for him to serve him well, a direct command from the Sect Leader himself. He was to be responsive to Zhang Zhiyun's every request, no matter how trivial or demanding. He had treated the Young Sect Leader with the reverence due to a living god.
Zhang Zhiyun asked him to investigate clues about the Wan Fa Sect and his younger sister, Zhang Yaqian, from back then. The traces of the Wan Fa Sect were hard for him to find; that organization was secretive, almost mythical, and far beyond the reach of his underworld network. But Zhang Yaqian's clues were easy to find. She was a public figure: the First Miss of Hangzhou, the only daughter of Zhang Yunhai, the chairman of the colossal Yunhai Group. She also had a fiancé, Zhao Tao, who was well-matched in status—the only son of Zhao Chenguang, the chairman of Chenguang Group, also one of Hangzhou's top ten wealthiest individuals. It was a perfect match, a union of two corporate dynasties.
However, a few days ago, Zhang Zhiyun was attacked and went missing. The news had thrown Zhou Yunhu into a blind panic. He had dispatched all his men, every last thug and informant, to scour the city, to find the Young Sect Leader. In the chaos, he didn't pay attention to Zhang Yaqian's side. How could he? The fate of his entire association rested on finding Zhang Zhiyun.
He didn't expect such a thing to happen; his subordinates, being reckless, beat Zhang Yaqian's fiancé, Zhao Tao, to death. The news had struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions.
The small leader responsible for the act also knelt on the ground, his face even more mournful than his boss's, a mask of pure despair. His hands and feet were cold as ice; he hadn't intended to beat Zhao Tao to death. It was a debt collection gone wrong, a simple shakedown. But Zhao Tao, arrogant and foolish, had provoked him.
It was just that Zhao Tao made him furious, even saying he didn't use enough force? The words had been a red flag to a bull. 'Is that all you've got? My grandmother hits harder than that.' The insult, coming from a rich boy who owed them money, was too much.
With a crack, a baseball bat came down, its impact echoing in the cramped room. It was meant to make a point, to break a bone. The bat connected with Zhao Tao's leg, shattering the tibia instantly. But when he fell, his head unluckily hit the sharp corner of a heavy mahjong table. The sickening crunch that followed was the sound of a skull fracturing. He was dead on the spot, his eyes wide with a final, stupid look of surprise.
Who could have expected that? He was originally there to collect a debt, not to kill someone. It was just a job, a way to put food on the table. Now, he had killed the fiancé of the Young Sect Leader's sister.
It was purely Zhao Tao's bad Luck.
Having lost the cover of the Child of Destiny's Luck, after the halo of destiny shattered, Zhao Tao, the former Child of Destiny, had worse Luck than ordinary people and was accidentally beaten to death by a small hooligan. The grand protagonist of his own story had his life ended by a nameless extra over a petty dispute.
The mystery of fate is truly profound.
When Luck comes, heaven and earth help; when fate leaves, even cold water chokes!
"What? Zhang Yaqian's fiancé was beaten to death by you?"
Zhang Zhiyun, who had been full of coldness, a vortex of chilling, murderous aura, also showed a look of shock and surprise. The demonic energy swirling around him momentarily stuttered. He had been planning to see his younger sister, Zhang Yaqian, to finally reunite with the family he'd been separated from for so long. But now his subordinates had beaten Zhang Yaqian's fiancé, Zhao Tao, to death??
How was he supposed to see her now? What could he possibly say?
Was he supposed to tell his younger sister, Zhang Yaqian, that it was all a misunderstanding? 'Oops, sorry about your dead fiancé, sis. My men got a little carried away. No hard feelings?'
Could his younger sister, Zhang Yaqian, forgive him? Forgive this? He was meant to be her long-lost protector, not the harbinger of her fiancé's death.
"You're useless!" Zhang Zhiyun's eyes were icy cold, two chips of obsidian glinting with murderous light. He stared down at Zhou Yunhu, who was still kneeling and apologizing, his body wracked with tremors. He flicked his finger.
Boom!
It wasn't a sound. It was a physical impact. A sudden thunderclap exploded from the ground! The air pressure in the room dropped violently, and a wave of malevolent energy washed over everyone present.
A red-black Yin Corpse Devil Swordplay qi shot out from Zhang Zhiyun's fingertip. It was no mere energy blast; it was a condensed sliver of pure, necromantic malice, screaming through the air like a vengeful spirit. It moved with the speed of a Flying Sword, a black-red streak that tore through space itself.
It first pierced Zhou Yunhu's shoulder. The Tiger Lord didn't even have time to react. One moment he was kneeling, the next an agonizing, searing pain erupted from his clavicle. The Sword Qi didn't just puncture; it corroded, a foul energy gnawing at his flesh and meridians. But it didn't stop. It continued its trajectory, its purpose absolute.
The Sword Qi penetrated the forehead of the Yunhu Association's small leader who had killed Zhao Tao.
The Yunhu Association's small leader had a bloody hole in his forehead, a perfect, cauterized circle from which red and white matter, brains and blood, erupted in a gruesome spray. With a thud, he fell to the ground, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. His eyes were wide open, locked in a permanent state of incomprehension, dying with grievances he could never voice.
Zhou Yunhu grunted, a choked, agonizing sound escaping his lips. He clutched his shoulder, hot blood flowing freely from between his fingers. The wound burned with an unholy cold. He didn't dare to utter a sound of complaint, his face pale as a sheet, kneeling on the ground and kowtowing repeatedly, his forehead smacking against the floor.
"Thank you, Young Sect Leader, for sparing my life, thank you, Young Sect Leader, for sparing my life."
Zhou Yunhu was inwardly horrified; his mind was a storm of disbelief and terror. He was at the Celestial Master Peak, a powerhouse in his own right, a master of the mundane martial world. Yet under a casual Sword Qi from Zhang Zhiyun, he had no power to resist at all. He couldn't even perceive the attack until it had already struck him. And his age was twice that of Zhang Zhiyun. This boy, who looked barely out of his teens, possessed a power that dwarfed his own completely.
'This… this is monstrous,' Zhou Yunhu thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. 'This isn't human strength.'
With such strength, no wonder he was the most outstanding successor of the Tianshi Sect in a thousand years.
If his sword dao strength was so terrifying, wouldn't his Artificer True Person strength be even more astonishing? He was rumored to be a dual cultivator of the highest order.
Comparable to a Celestial Master Peak expert! The thought was laughable now. Zhang Zhiyun wasn't comparable; he was a predator, and men like Zhou Yunhu were nothing but prey.
But with such astonishing strength, how could he have lost an arm? Who in this world could have done this to him? The question was a terrifying abyss Zhou Yunhu dared not contemplate.
"Hmph, if my younger sister cannot forgive you, then you shall atone with your death!" Zhang Zhiyun looked at Zhou Yunhu with those same icy eyes. The promise of death was not a threat; it was a simple statement of fact. If his younger sister, Zhang Yaqian, couldn't forgive him because of her fiancé's death, then Zhou Yunhu would also be killed. His life was now forfeit, hanging by the thread of a girl's grief.
Zhou Yunhu's face turned ashen. He had to save himself. He quickly spoke, his words tumbling out in a desperate torrent:
"Reporting to Young Sect Leader, Miss Zhang Yaqian and her fiancé, Zhao Tao, did not have a deep relationship."
"That Zhao Tao studied abroad for many years and only recently returned."
"And according to reports from my subordinates, Zhao Tao and Miss Zhang Yaqian had a big argument at Jiangnan Bar earlier and seemed to be breaking up and canceling the engagement."
"Zhao Tao pleaded and tried to salvage the relationship, seemingly having done something to offend Miss Zhang Yaqian, which Miss Zhang Yaqian could not forgive."
"Even when Zhao Tao called, Miss Zhang Yaqian directly hung up and turned off her phone; with Miss Zhang Yaqian's kind and gentle personality, Zhao Tao must have committed a great mistake!"
Listening to Zhou Yunhu's words, Zhang Zhiyun's expression softened a bit, the murderous pressure in the room lessening slightly. He said coldly:
"If that's the case, then Zhao Tao's death is not unjust; to make my younger sister angry, he deserved to die!"
Zhou Yunhu knelt on the ground with his head bowed, secretly surprised. He was drenched in cold sweat, but he felt a sliver of hope. The Young Sect Leader Zhang Zhiyun he had seen before, though quite dignified and carrying the air of a superior being, was still approachable and amiable to others. But now he was so full of Killing Intent? It radiated from him in evident waves, a suffocating miasma of death.
However, it was also understandable; having gone through a life-and-death crisis and losing an arm, a drastic change in personality was common. He had been forged anew in the crucible of suffering and had emerged as something harder, colder, and far more dangerous.
He would tell his subordinates later to never cross the Young Sect Leader. Not even to look at him the wrong way. Otherwise, if they sought death themselves, it would be fine, but implicating him would be a sin worthy of ten thousand deaths.
"Get up."
Hearing Zhang Zhiyun's cold voice, Zhou Yunhu felt as if he had been granted a great pardon. Relief washed over him so intensely his legs almost gave out. He quickly stood up, his wounded shoulder throbbing in time with his racing heart.
This man, who was usually the formidable and domineering number one underground boss of Hangzhou, the leader of the Yunhu Association, was like a dog in front of Zhang Zhiyun, tail tucked between his legs.
If this were to spread, few people would dare to believe it.
"Young Sect Leader, you've been missing for a few days; the Sect Leader, his old self, was very anxious and was already preparing to come down the mountain to look for you," Zhou Yunhu said, bowing and scraping, his tone laced with utmost respect.
"Master..." Zhang Zhiyun's expression softened a bit more, a flicker of warmth in the icy depths of his eyes. He said in a deep voice: "Tell Master, his old self, that I am fine for now."
"Also, send people to protect my younger sister; I will see her tomorrow."
Zhou Yunhu looked at Zhang Zhiyun's missing right arm, the empty sleeve pinned neatly to his side. He wanted to speak but hesitated, wanting to ask but not daring to. The question burned on his tongue: Who did this to you? But he knew to ask would be to court death.
Zhang Zhiyun sneered, a cruel, mirthless twist of his lips. He gripped his empty right sleeve with his left hand, the fabric a constant, infuriating reminder of his humiliation. He said grimly, his voice dropping to a low, predatory growl:
"Tonight, the moon is dark and the wind is high, it's the perfect time to kill!"
After giving these instructions, Zhang Zhiyun turned and left the Yunhu Association Headquarters.
Since he had already broken through to Celestial Master Peak and achieved minor accomplishment in the Yin Corpse Devil Swordplay, he believed he had no rival below the Land Immortal. Even against his Martial Uncle Zhang Tianen, the former top expert of the Yanxia Artificer True Person world, who was at the Celestial Master Peak, and Ji Xiaolin's father, Zhang Zhiyun was confident he could defeat him. That beautiful woman in white, though very strong, was no longer in Zhang Zhiyun's eyes now. He saw her not as a threat, but as a prize to be claimed, a rebellious possession to be tamed.
Since he had emerged from seclusion, tonight would be the time of Shen Anyu's demise!
The revenge for his severed arm and the hatred for his abducted wife, he would settle them all at once!
Zhang Zhiyun looked up coldly in the direction of Jinxiu Mountain Villa No. 1 Villa, where Shen Anyu lived, his Killing Intent soaring and demonic energy surging
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