Changle Street counted as a mid-range residential district in Jiang City—a walk-up complex built two decades ago, its exterior paint already fading and mottled. The Su family lived on the third floor of Building Seven, in a modest 120-square-meter apartment valued at roughly three million.
Respectable for ordinary people, but pitiful when compared to the Lin family.
At the entrance to the neighborhood, Lu Chen stopped by a small fruit shop and bought a gift basket—following the original owner's habit that any "visit" must be accompanied by something in hand. Not out of respect, but to exhibit a patronizing benevolence.
Upstairs. A knock.
The door was opened by a woman in her forties. Well maintained, yes—but the fatigue between her brows had never truly faded. Su's mother, Wang Xiuqin.
"Y–Young Master Lin?" The moment she saw Lu Chen, her face turned pale. Her fingers gripped the doorframe instinctively. "Why are you here…? Muqing—she… she isn't home!"
Her voice trembled, her gaze evasive.
Lu Chen swept the interior with his sense perception. Three life signatures—two in the living room, one in the back room, her breathing deliberately quieted.
Su Muqing.
"I came to see you, Auntie." Lu Chen handed her the fruit basket, his tone calm. "Won't you invite me in?"
"I… I…" Wang Xiuqin was visibly flustered.
A man's voice came from inside. "Who is it?"
Su's father, Su Jianguo, walked over in house clothes. His expression faltered when he saw Lu Chen, but he quickly forced a smile. "Ah—Young Master Lin, please, come in."
A typical reaction of common folk before power—fear mixed with ingratiating eagerness.
Lu Chen stepped into the living room. The décor belonged to a style from over a decade ago—ordinary furniture, but meticulously kept. Documents were spread across the coffee table. One glance told him enough: housing contract, mortgage paperwork.
The Su family truly intended to move—fleeing from him.
"Where's Muqing?" Lu Chen asked directly.
"She… she had something at school. Left early this morning." Su Jianguo rubbed his hands anxiously. "Young Master Lin, please sit, I'll make you tea."
"No need." Lu Chen sat down by the sofa, gaze fixed on the closed bedroom door. "Su Muqing. Come out."
Silence.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
A young woman stepped out—about twenty, white dress, long hair draped over her shoulders. Her features were delicate, but her eyes were rimmed red; she had clearly been crying. She bit her lip as she met Lu Chen's gaze—fear, revulsion, and a desperate trace of resolve flickered inside.
A classic "cornered heroine."
"Lin Xiao, what do you want?" Her voice trembled. "Ye Chen is already… you already destroyed him. Do you want to ruin my family too?"
"Muqing! Mind your manners with Young Master Lin!" Su Jianguo snapped, flustered.
Lu Chen didn't respond. He simply looked at her.
According to the original plot, this was where Lin Xiao would make some obscene demand; Su Muqing would rather die than yield; then a conveniently timed Child of Destiny would rush in to save her—or she would awaken some hidden constitution and begin her ascent.
But all of that required Ye Chen as the catalyst. With Ye Chen dead, the entire narrative thread had become unanchored.
"I heard you're moving." Lu Chen picked up the contract. "South City New District. Good location. How much was the down payment?"
The couple exchanged confused glances.
"O-One point two million," Su Jianguo murmured. "We scraped it together by selling the old place."
"Three-million mortgage, sixteen thousand monthly." Lu Chen flipped through the documents. "You earn eight thousand a month, Auntie earns four. Add Muqing's part-time work and you barely cover the mortgage. What about living expenses?"
Cold sweat formed on Su Jianguo's forehead.
"Young Master Lin, we… we just thought the old place was worn down. Wanted a change of environment…"
"You wanted to hide from me." Lu Chen closed the contract and met Su Muqing's eyes. "Am I wrong?"
Her face turned ashen, but she still stood straight. "Yes. And what of it? Lin Xiao, I know your family has wealth and power, but we're just ordinary people. I beg you—let us go."
Her voice was filled with grief and despair—enough for any hot-blooded youth to slam the table and rush to her defense.
Lu Chen was silent for a few seconds.
Then he stood, took out a card, and placed it on the table.
"There are two million in here. Password is six zeroes. Consider it compensation for the trouble you've endured. Buy the house if you want. If it's not enough, come to me."
He turned to leave.
The three of them froze, as though someone had pressed pause.
"W-Wait!" Su Jianguo reacted first, grabbing the card and chasing after him. "Young Master Lin, we can't take this! We—"
"Take it." Lu Chen halted, not looking back. "It's money to buy my peace. From now on, don't contact me. I won't bother you either. We're even."
He opened the door and stepped out.
Silence filled the stairwell.
Descending the stairs, his pace remained unhurried.
He wasn't suddenly moved by kindness. The money served two purposes: first, to sever the cause and effect of this storyline. The original owner's sins could be cleansed cleanly with financial amends, preventing future "revenge" or "face-slapping" arcs. Second, to test the system—and whether this world held other corrective forces.
Just as he exited the building, the system chimed:
[Detected: Host has proactively erased an "important plot entanglement" (Su Muqing Thread).][Behavior Analysis: Severing cause and effect, avoiding potential future risks.][Reward: Villain Points +300.][Current Points: 100 (debt cleared).]
As expected—the system judged based on villainous benefit, not mere wrongdoing.
Lu Chen walked toward the community gate to hail a cab.
Then—he felt a gaze.
Not a casual look, but one laced with deliberate probing—some kind of sensing technique. Coming from… the sixth-floor balcony of the building on his right.
Lu Chen didn't break stride, but his senses expanded.
Level 25 energy fluctuation. Young male, vigorous qi and blood. And another subtle mental ripple—a scanning-type ability.
Discovered?
No. Too subtle. More like routine observation. Or… confirmation.
Outside the neighborhood, Lu Chen flagged down a taxi.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
"East City. Wanhui Mall."
As the car pulled away, he glanced back. The youth in black sportswear vanished from the balcony in a flicker.
Lu Chen opened the system's intel tab:
[Jiang City—recent unfamiliar martial artists (Level 20–30).][Cost: 200 points.]
He purchased it.
A simple roster unfolded in his mind, accompanied by blurry surveillance captures:
Target A…Target B…Target C…
Target D: male, around nineteen, Level 18–20, gloomy temperament. Appeared this morning near Changle Street. Motive unknown.
The grainy image unmistakably matched the youth from earlier.
Nineteen. Level 18–20.
Given the timing and location…
Another protagonist?
Wanhui Mall was one of the city's most luxurious shopping centers. Lu Chen came not to shop, but to visit the "Martial Artist Services Association" office on the third floor—an institution like a semi-official agency for martial certification, missions, and resource exchange.
He needed a formal martial identity—quickly.
The office was small, resembling a bank branch with four service counters. At this hour, only two people were ahead in line.
Lu Chen took a number and sat down.
A burly man in a tank top sat beside him, a blue dragon tattoo coiling down his arm—Level 21, judging by his qi. Across from him sat a bespectacled young woman, hugging a stack of paperwork—Level 8, likely an office worker.
Everything seemed normal.
When his number was called, Lu Chen approached Counter 3.
The clerk was a woman in her thirties with a crisp uniform and a badge reading "Third-Class Specialist." She took Lu Chen's ID and typed quickly.
"Mr. Lin Xiao, according to your records, you currently hold 'Junior Martial Candidate' status. Your last test, three months ago, shows Level 15. How may I assist you today?"
"Level review and formal certification."
"Understood. Please follow me to the testing area."
The testing room was behind a soundproof barrier. Several machines lined the walls. A technician in a lab coat looked up as they entered.
"Mr. Lin needs a level review," the clerk said.
The technician—gray-haired, bespectacled, in his fifties—glanced at Lu Chen and nodded. "Stand before the power testing machine. Full force. Three hits."
Lu Chen stepped up. It was a standard punching-force apparatus with a polymer target connected to a display.
He didn't rush. Instead, he circulated his energy through the "Basic Refinement Technique", letting it travel a full cycle through his arm.
"Hurry up, others are waiting," the clerk said impatiently.
Lu Chen inhaled deeply.
A clean straight punch.
No flourish—just the most fundamental technique. But at the moment of impact, he compressed energy into his fist and activated Piercing Force—
A heavy thud.
The display flickered, numbers racing before settling:
587 kg
The clerk paused. That value corresponded to Level 18–19—far above his last record.
"Again," the technician said.
Second punch: 602 kgThird punch: 594 kg
Stable average—around Level 19.
"Speed test next," the technician instructed.
Lu Chen ran, struck, reacted—completing the sequence in half an hour.
Finally, the technician looked over the results. "Overall assessment: Level 19. But your control and technique exceed typical users at this level. Changed cultivation methods recently?"
"A few insights," Lu Chen replied calmly.
The technician didn't pry, updating the data. "Your formal certification will take three business days to process. You'll receive a text when it's ready."
"Pickup."
Leaving the office, Lu Chen descended to the second floor—but then halted.
The black-clothed youth stood by the railing, sipping milk tea, pretending to browse the area—but glancing toward the association's entrance.
He had followed him.
Lu Chen didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he rode the escalator and walked into a men's clothing store. Using the shop's mirrors, he observed the youth descend as well, taking a seat outside and pulling out his phone.
Clumsy tailing.
But why? Because of Su Muqing? Or something else?
Lu Chen bought a shirt as a pretext and walked straight toward the youth.
The young man froze for a split second, startled.
"Are you looking for me?" Lu Chen took a seat opposite him, three meters away.
The youth stared at him, then suddenly smiled—a strange mixture of mockery and excitement.
"Lin Xiao, right?" His voice was rough. "Heard you killed Ye Chen yesterday?"
Lu Chen said nothing.
"Relax. I'm not here for revenge. Didn't know that trash well. I'm just… curious. A waste propped up by drugs manages to kill someone blessed by an 'old master.'"
He leaned in, lowering his voice.
"So you must have a secret, don't you?"
Predatory intent gleamed in his eyes—nothing like Ye Chen's desperate madness, but cold, hungry anticipation.
"I'm Chen Feng," he said as he straightened. "We'll meet again. When we do, try not to bore me."
He walked away, vanishing into the crowd.
A system prompt appeared:
[Detected: "Abnormal Individual"—Chen Feng.][Analysis: Displays tendencies of a predator or devourer. Suspected ability to sense others' fortunes.][Threat Level: Moderate (current).][Recommendation: Exercise caution. This individual may consider the host "prey."]
A predator?
Lu Chen recalled the intel: a gloomy youth of unknown motive.
Now the motive was clear—Chen Feng could sniff out "fortunate" individuals and stalk them like a hyena waiting to strike.
Ye Chen's ring, Lu Chen's sudden improvements—they were bait.
"Interesting," Lu Chen murmured.
From hunter to hunted.
But who was truly predator or prey was never decided by who acted first.
Lu Chen texted Huang Mao:
"Check someone. Chen Feng, male, around nineteen, Level 18–20. Appeared in Jiang City recently. I want everything."
He exited the mall.
Across the street, a black sedan idled, tinted windows hiding its passengers.
His senses told him two people sat inside—Level 30 and Level 15. Familiar.
Lin family watchers.
So the old man had acted, even without saying a word.
Lu Chen turned away and hailed a taxi.
"Home."
On the way back, he retrieved the Demon-Suppressing Tablet fragment. Its dark stone surface glinted faintly in the sunlight.
Three days of nourishment—and he would learn the location of the other fragments.
Three days during which he would need to settle two matters: his certification, and the predator eyeing him.
At six, his phone rang.
Huang Mao.
"Got it, Lin Shao! That Chen Feng… he's not simple!"
"Speak."
"He arrived three days ago under a fake ID. Real name unknown. Lives in a black-market hostel, no fixed pattern. But one of our brothers found something on the dark web…" Huang Mao lowered his voice. "There's a bounty—five million—for the head of someone called 'Ghosthand Chen Feng.' The one who posted it is… the Chen family of Linjiang."
Lu Chen's eyes narrowed.
The Chen family. A martial clan on par with the Lin family, long-standing rivals.
"Details."
"Rumor is he's a Chen family bastard, incredibly talented. Stole their core technique—Blood Fiend Art, first three layers—at fifteen. Got caught and ran. Since then he's been drifting, preying on lone martial artists with treasures or sudden gains. Kills, steals, vanishes. Hence the nickname."
Huang Mao swallowed."His technique is incomplete—severe backlash unless he regularly absorbs others' qi and blood. If he doesn't hunt, he dies."
A dark protagonist template indeed.
"Who is his target now?" Lu Chen asked.
"Not sure. But those same rumors say he always goes after people with 'ancient artifacts' or 'sudden breakthroughs.' Lin Shao… given what happened yesterday, he might be coming for you."
"Understood."
Lu Chen ended the call and looked out at the night-lit city.
"Prey, is it…"
He retrieved a handgun from the drawer, ejected and checked the magazine, loaded it again.
A clear metallic click.
He set it beside him, then picked up the stone fragment.
Three drops of heart's blood fell onto its surface.
The blood didn't slide off—it was absorbed instantly. A faint gold shimmer rippled across the carved patterns.
The nurturing began.
Night deepened.
Elsewhere, on a half-finished rooftop, Chen Feng crouched, playing with a bloodstained jade pendant—pried from the throat of a Level 22 rogue cultivator.
He licked the blood from his fingers, eyes fixed on the luxury apartments to the east.
"Lin Xiao… Lin family heir. A sudden leap from Level 15 to 19. And carrying some ancient treasure…"
He grinned, revealing sharp white teeth.
"A fat lamb."
He needed more qi, more blood, more energy.And Lin Xiao's blood would be… nourishing.
Killing Lin Xiao would also disgust the Lin family.A fitting message to the Chen clan.
Two birds with one stone.
He stood, stretching until his bones cracked sharply.
Tomorrow, he would test the lamb's worth.
The night wind swept across the rooftop, carrying the chill of early autumn.
In the darkness, the boundaries between hunter and prey blurred quietly.