From the start, Zhu Jiu had no intention of letting Zhao Feng walk away so easily.
Sure, outright robbery wasn't a good look, but this was the apocalypse. If Zhao Feng had a way to cure Fatty, how could Zhu Jiu just let him go?
Especially with that arrogant attitude of his.
If it weren't for wanting to hear more about the end of the world from Zhao Feng, Zhu Jiu wouldn't have entertained him this long.
When Zhao Feng saw Zhu Jiu draw his blades, he was momentarily stunned, but soon a cold smirk spread across his face.
"You? Stop me with your little tricks?"
"A mere descendant of the Jiangnan Zhu Clan, wielding that trash-tier Bagua Blade technique, dares to challenge me?"
As he spoke, Zhao Feng unsheathed the sword on his back.
"Clang!"
The blade gleamed as it caught the light, exuding an unmistakable air of lethality.
With the sword in hand, Zhao Feng's expression grew even more arrogant.
"This is my Xuansteel Sword, a Grade-One Dark Energy weapon. It cuts through iron like it's paper."
"And I am a Grade-One Evolver, human-type, Swordmaster class."
"I've been trained in my family's Qingfeng Eighteen Sword Techniques since childhood. Tell me, what can you possibly do to defeat me?"
"Rely on that junky Bagua Blade technique?"
"Or those cheap pieces of scrap in your hands?"
From beginning to end, Zhao Feng had regarded Zhu Jiu with disdain.
If it weren't for trying to recruit a few lackeys, he wouldn't have wasted time with this group of nobodies.
When he finished, Zhu Jiu's gaze fell on the sword in his hands. Instead of reacting angrily, his lips curled slightly in amusement.
"Nice sword."
That infuriated Zhao Feng.
"Well, well, Zhu Jiu. Let's see what you're capable of. I want to know what gives you the guts to look down on me," Zhao Feng spat, lunging forward.
The Xuansteel Sword shot toward Zhu Jiu's throat with lightning speed, the blade gleaming with a frosty edge.
Zhu Jiu's expression shifted from mild amusement to icy focus. With precision, he raised his twin blades to meet Zhao Feng's strike.
"Clang!"
The sword clashed with Zhu Jiu's twin blades. To the shock of everyone watching, Zhao Feng's Xuansteel Sword cut through Zhu Jiu's weapons as if they were paper, continuing its deadly arc toward his throat.
This wasn't a spar. Zhao Feng was going for the kill.
The onlookers froze. A fight had erupted out of nowhere, escalating instantly into a life-or-death struggle.
"Nice sword!" Zhu Jiu shouted, not retreating but stepping forward.
As the Xuansteel Sword's tip closed in, Zhu Jiu's palm shot out, smacking the flat of the blade and deflecting it.
"Foolish! You think you can stop my sword with your bare hands?" Zhao Feng sneered.
Dark energy rippled along the Xuansteel Sword. The blade seemed to come alive, twisting like a serpent to curve toward Zhu Jiu's back.
Confident that victory was his, Zhao Feng couldn't suppress a triumphant grin.
"I've got you now!"
But Zhu Jiu, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, didn't falter. Instead, his lips curled into a faint smile.
"Interesting."
Ignoring the blade, Zhu Jiu drove his fist toward Zhao Feng's chest.
The Xuansteel Sword pierced into Zhu Jiu's skin—then stopped.
"What?" Zhao Feng's smug expression froze.
The sword couldn't penetrate Zhu Jiu's muscles.
"What is this? Steel?" Zhao Feng's eyes widened in disbelief.
Without giving Zhao Feng a chance to process the impossibility, Zhu Jiu twisted his body, channeling his strength from his spine to his fist. His punch landed squarely on Zhao Feng's chest.
"Boom!"
The impact reverberated through the room.
Zhao Feng didn't fly backward, but the shockwave of the punch blew apart the back of his shirt. The sound of cracking ribs echoed in the stunned silence.
Zhao Feng spat out a mouthful of blood, his face pale with shock and pain.
Zhu Jiu calmly retracted his fist, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Wing Chun."
"Cun Quan."
"An inch is all it takes."
Zhao Feng stared at Zhu Jiu, wide-eyed.
It was only now, with his heightened perception, that he realized Zhu Jiu's body had visibly changed. His muscles had swelled, his skin had darkened into a bronze hue.
"Impossible! Iron Shirt? And at the Great Perfection stage?" Zhao Feng croaked.
"And Wing Chun—mastered to the level of internal force?"
"This... this can't be real!"
As a scion of a martial arts family, Zhao Feng understood the significance of what he was witnessing.
Mastering both Iron Shirt and Wing Chun to such a degree at Zhu Jiu's age? That level of achievement should have been impossible.
But Zhu Jiu had no interest in explaining himself.
Without a word, he delivered a sharp chop to Zhao Feng's neck, knocking him unconscious.
"Clang!"
The Xuansteel Sword clattered to the floor, humming faintly as it landed.
"Good sword," Zhu Jiu muttered, picking it up and slinging it over his back.
Then he began rifling through Zhao Feng's belongings with a practiced efficiency.
"If he's carrying around things like breathing techniques and pills, there's got to be some treasures on him."
Satisfied with his haul, Zhu Jiu turned toward the table, where his spoils of war lay neatly arranged.
"Let's see what we've got here," he said with a grin