The Author's Draft-Chapter 51: Peaceful threat II

"You just called Senior Brother Nie a lackey!"

"You’re dead!"

Nie Hao’s civil facade shattered completely. His eyes went cold, his jaw clenched, and spiritual pressure rolled off him in waves.

"I tried to be polite," Nie Hao said quietly. "I really did."

Long Chen turned to leave.

"Where do you think you’re going!?" one of the lackeys shouted.

Suddenly, the five men moved.

They surrounded him completely now, forming a tight circle. There were no gaps or escape routes. Their spiritual pressure pressed down on him from all sides—five Qi Acquisition cultivators, all higher stage than him.

Nie Hao stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "There’s a saying, Long Chen. It’s better to drink a toast rather than a forfeit. You should have taken the toast."

"Probably," Long Chen agreed.

Then he moved.

His body blurred.

The lackey to his right didn’t even see the punch coming. Long Chen’s fist slammed into his solar plexus with enough force to lift him off his feet. The man’s eyes bulged, air exploding from his lungs, and he collapsed backward, gasping.

"What—"

Long Chen spun, his elbow catching the second lackey in the jaw. Bone cracked and the man’s head snapped to the side, and he crumpled.

Two down in three seconds.

The remaining two lackeys hesitated, shocked.

Long Chen didn’t give them time to recover.

He closed the distance to the third lackey, ducked under a wild sword swing, and drove his palm into the man’s chest. Enhanced strength from his cultivation met the lackey’s guard—and shattered through it. The lackey flew backward, crashed into the courtyard wall, and slumped down, unconscious.

The fourth lackey backed up, hands raised. "Wait, wait—"

Long Chen kicked him in the knee, the joint hyperextending with a sickening pop. The man screamed and went down, clutching his leg.

Four lackeys. Ten seconds.

Nie Hao stood frozen, his hand still on his sword hilt, staring at his subordinates scattered across the courtyard like broken dolls.

"You—" His voice shook with rage. "You dare—"

He drew his sword.

The blade came free with a metallic ring, spiritual energy coating its edge in a pale blue light. Nie Hao’s cultivation surge, foundation establishment Stage 8, nearly at the peak.

"I’ll kill you!" Nie Hao roared.

He lunged.

His sword came down in a vertical slash, fast and powerful. The technique was clean, well-practiced. If it hit, it would split Long Chen from shoulder to hip.

Long Chen sidestepped.

The blade passed inches from his face, missing completely.

Nie Hao’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to adjust, bringing the sword back for a horizontal slash—

Long Chen caught his wrist.

"What—"

Long Chen twisted.

Nie Hao’s sword clattered to the ground. Long Chen kicked it away, then drove his knee into Nie Hao’s stomach. Air exploded from the man’s lungs. Before he could recover, Long Chen grabbed him by the collar and slammed him face-first into the ground.

Nie Hao hit the stone hard enough to crack it.

Long Chen planted his foot on Nie Hao’s back, pinning him down.

"Listen carefully," Long Chen said, his voice cold. "Go back to whoever sent you—and I know it wasn’t Qinglan, because she wouldn’t send lackeys to do her dirty work. So go back to whoever’s really pulling the strings and tell them this: if they have the balls to show their face in front of me, I’ll be happy to have this conversation directly."

He lifted his foot, and Nie Hao scrambled backward, coughing and gasping.

"Do you understand?" Long Chen asked.

Nie Hao glared at him, blood running from his nose, fury and humiliation burning in his eyes. But he nodded.

"Good."

Long Chen turned and walked away, leaving the five men scattered across the courtyard like trash.

As soon as he was out of sight, Azazel’s voice erupted in his mind.

*HAHAHAHA! Oh, that was beautiful! Did you see his face when you called him a lackey? I thought he was going to explode!*

The system chimed in immediately.

[I particularly enjoyed the part where you said "I’ll do what I want, whenever I want to." Very dramatic. Very domineering. I give it an 8 out of 10.]

*Only an 8? That was at least a 9!*

[He didn’t monologue enough. Heroes always monologue before walking away.]

Long Chen kept walking, ignoring them both.

*And the engagement! Oh, this is perfect!* Azazel continued, his voice dripping with amusement. *You’ve got yourself a classic love triangle setup! The childhood friend who was kind to you, the rival who wants her, and you—the guy who just beat up five people without breaking a sweat!*

[Technically, it’s not a love triangle if Long Chen doesn’t have romantic feelings for her.]

*Yet. He doesn’t have feelings yet. Give it time, these things always develop except if she’s ugly.*

"Can you both shut up?" Long Chen muttered.

*No.*

[Negative.]

Long Chen sighed and continued towards his cave abode. The sun had fully set now, the sect illuminated by spirit lamps and glowing formations. Other disciples passed by, heading to the dining halls or back to their quarters, none of them aware of what had just happened in the administrative courtyard.

Good. The fewer people who knew about that fight, the better.

As Long Chen approached his cave, still half-listening to Azazel and the system bicker about hero tropes, he noticed something.

A figure was standing at the entrance to his cave abode.

Someone was waiting for him.

Long Chen slowed his pace, his hand instinctively moving toward Demon Dweller’s hilt.

The figure stepped into the light of the spirit lamp hanging beside his door.

It was a woman.

She wore the robes of an inner disciple, dark blue with silver trim. Her hair was long and black, tied back in a simple ponytail. Her face was beautiful—sharp features, cold eyes, an expression that suggested she didn’t smile often.

And her cultivation...

Long Chen could feel it immediately. The pressure rolling off her, pressing down on him. It was king realm.

The woman looked at him, her expression complicated.

"Big brother Chen, is that you?"