"Hello? Boss Bao?"
"I'm Ye Chenfeng. Is Senior Brother Dasheng back? Oh, he is! Then, let him..."
Mo Fan glanced at Ye Chenfeng, who was waving frantically at the others. For a moment, he felt as if he were watching a gangster rallying his crew. Yet, the person leading this chaotic scene was no more than a white-collar worker.
Black and white? Mo Fan shook his head, dismissing the absurd thought. He was just standing up for justice, after all.
"So, what should we do? Just wait here?" Mo Fan asked.
"What else can we do?" Ye Chenfeng replied.
Suddenly, a flash lit up the night sky. A young, handsome man with wings descended from the air and surveyed the factory below. He had confronted the Black Vatican numerous times before and could already sense the foul stench of dark magic wafting from a distance. Anxiety stirred within him. Tang Yue had mentioned an informant stationed here.
But why was there no sign of movement? Tang Yue had warned that the situation was perilous—had the informant been discovered?
The young man's eyes sharpened with resolve. He could wait no longer. With a swift flick of his wings, he disappeared into the factory. Moments later, bursts of vibrant magical energy erupted, casting a dazzling display throughout the area.
"Whoa! Those special effects are insane!" Ye Chenfeng marveled, watching the vivid spectacle that rivaled the best movie scenes.
"Alright, alright. Time to head home and sleep," he muttered. But before that, he and Mo Fan decided to grab a late-night snack to celebrate.
Ye Chenfeng sent Tang Yue a message with a playful emoji, signaling he was safe.
Halfway to their snack destination, a sudden beam of light pierced the darkness, drawing their attention. An elderly night patrolman stood nearby, flashlight in hand, glaring at them with suspicion.
"Who are you? What are you doing out here at this hour?" the old man demanded.
Mo Fan exchanged a look with Ye Chenfeng, silently urging him to handle the situation.
Ye Chenfeng caught on, raising his hand and summoning the power of space. The air around the old man rippled with energy, latching onto his right arm. Luminescent magic flared, and the air crackled with tension.
The old man glanced at his now-glowing arm with confusion, seemingly weighing his options. A moment later, he let out a shriek as his arm, once whole, twisted grotesquely.
But Ye Chenfeng wasn't finished.
"What is he doing?" Mo Fan thought, stunned by Ye Chenfeng's sudden aggression. However, his instincts kicked in. This old man wasn't ordinary—he had to be connected to the Black Church.
Before the old man's other arm could meet the same fate, he broke free, his body surging with intense magic. In the blink of an eye, his frail exterior peeled away like cracked paint, revealing a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and formidable power. Magical energy pulsed from him, signaling that he was no ordinary opponent.
A high-level wizard!
The blue-robed priest's expression darkened. Why was today so cursed? Ever since the failed attempt to claim the Holy Spring, the Inquisition had been on high alert. He had sensed an Inquisition member flying by earlier and decided to abandon the priests under his command and retreat. Yet, here he was, facing an unforeseen ambush.
Ye Chenfeng's unexpected assault had thrown him off guard. If only he could escape before the senior judge of the Inquisition arrived.
"How did you find me?" the priest demanded through gritted teeth.
Ye Chenfeng's eyes glinted with indifference. "I didn't find you. You exposed yourself."
"What?" The priest's shock was palpable. He wasn't exposed? Then why attack him?
Ye Chenfeng's deadpan expression didn't change. "Hiding to the side during a magical battle and looking up? Rookie mistake. Just because you're disguised as an old man doesn't mean you're invisible."
The priest's face darkened. "You attacked me without proof. Do you realize the consequences?"
Ye Chenfeng's frustration boiled over. He gestured towards the factory, where bursts of magic continued to light up the night. "Proof? Look over there. Do you see that chaos, those deadly spells flying everywhere? And you thought it was wise to pop out in front of me? Even if you weren't from the Black Church, I'd still break your limbs. If you're innocent, I'll find a healer to patch you up. If not, well, you're already halfway defeated."
Mo Fan stifled a chuckle at the absurd logic. It made sense in its own twisted way.
The blue-robed priest silently fumed. Had circumstances been different, he would have tried recruiting Ye Chenfeng—this man was as ruthless as any member of the Black Church.
"Mo Fan!" Ye Chenfeng shouted. Mo Fan sprang into action, weaving star tracks around himself. The magic surged through his arms, condensing into a powerful attack.
But the priest was quick. His own star tracks coalesced just as fast. Before he could unleash his magic, an invisible force stopped him. Mo Fan turned and punched, reducing a nearby factory wall to rubble.
Terrified, the priest fled, not daring to look back.
"Damn it," he thought. "Those two are dangerous!"