53-Revenge.

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"All it takes is tossing out a bone, and in an instant, countless wild dogs will come scrambling for it."

Xu Ruo glared at the Du family patriarch with a savage grin, bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Du Lun, you noble families have sat high above for too long—you've nearly forgotten that the ants beneath your feet can topple the heavens."

As he spoke, Xu Ruo whipped his head around and shouted to the surroundings, "What are you waiting for? Revel in it! Unleash your wild revelry!"

Du Lun, the Du family patriarch, suddenly felt a chill of foreboding. In a flash, something clicked, and his face contorted in shock.

"Run—run now!"

But even as he shouted, masked figures began emerging from every corner of the Du estate, appearing out of nowhere.

These people stormed into the Du household, killing on sight. Every one of them was a ranked martial artist, including several Seventh Rank Bone-Forging Realm experts wielding half a thousand kilograms of strength, each punch and kick unleashing tremendous force.

The Du family, which had just stabilized, crumbled again under this sudden onslaught of skilled fighters. Screams of agony rang out without end.

Hidden beneath an eave, Zhong Lin rubbed his chin, inwardly speechless. "Didn't expect I'd turn into a wild dog myself. But this Guo Yanhuai really knows how to play people's hearts!"

Those appearing in the Du estate were, without a doubt, civilian martial artists from the city.

Just as Xu Ruo, the "Iron-Armed Blade King," had said: toss out a bone called "blood-condensing technique," and countless wild dogs would come snapping at it.

These civilian martial artists craved advancement too desperately.

Normally, they wouldn't dare provoke the Du family, but with Du Lun tied up by Xu Ruo, they had their chance.

"There's a mastermind in the rebel army! Without losing a single soldier, they've thrown Heishan County's two great families into chaos. Without their support, storming the city will be that much easier. Impressive."

Zhong Lin muttered to himself, staying put instead of jumping in, still crouched under the eave, watching the "Du family battlefield" from afar.

After a while—

"Hm?"

Zhong Lin suddenly turned his head, a gleam of excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Didn't expect this guy to actually come back. Since he's here, he's not leaving."

With a leap, Zhong Lin moved like a civet cat across the rooftops.

In a loft, a masked martial artist emerged. Perhaps due to the fighting, part of his black mask had torn away, revealing a bearded face.

He carried a bulging sack on his back—clearly a hefty haul—and held a blood-dripping short blade in his hand.

If Old Fang were here, he'd recognize this as Shan Wenlong, the man who'd escaped from him.

*Whoosh~* 

A white streak sliced through the night sky. Shan Wenlong's expression shifted. He stomped his right foot hard, defying gravity as he leaned back flat.

After the white flash, a few strands of hair floated down. Cold sweat broke out on Shan Wenlong's back.

A hair's breadth—that blade had nearly slit his throat.

Shan Wenlong glared furiously at the unexpected intruder, suppressing his killing intent as he growled, "Friend, the Du family's done for today. Gold, silver, jade, techniques—there's more than enough. Why not take your own share instead of hassling me here?"

"Shan Wenlong, I've been waiting for you a long time," Zhong Lin said in a low, eerie tone.

He couldn't call it waiting—more like living in fear.

Ever since he'd learned Shan Wenlong had escaped and might come for revenge, Zhong Lin had spent months digging tunnels and hitting the black market, all to boost his strength fast and guard against this bastard coming back for him.

Now that he'd finally run into him, even without a grudge, Zhong Lin would take him out—if only to settle the score for months of dread.

Zhong Lin swung his long knife, the motion carrying an indescribable grace under the flickering firelight of the Du estate, as if he and the blade had become one.

Shan Wenlong knew this wouldn't end peacefully. Though he didn't recognize the man, the fact that his name was called out meant there was bad blood.

"Kill!"

Shan Wenlong stomped his right foot, his leg beneath his flapping robes swelling suddenly, veins bulging as he shot forward like an arrow, swift as the wind.

Zhong Lin's face remained expressionless. He raised his knife—no flourish, just speed and precision.

Blades clashed, shadows intertwined.

Zhong Lin sheathed his knife as a red line appeared on Shan Wenlong's neck. His head rolled off, tumbling across the ground, while his headless body staggered a few steps forward before crashing down.

The severed head's mouth twitched under dying nerves, as if trying to say something in its final moment.

"He's finally dead."

Zhong Lin let out a quiet breath of relief. This bastard had kept him on edge for months—now he was slain at last.

Crouching, Zhong Lin gave Shan Wenlong's body a quick pat-down, not bothering to inspect closely. He grabbed the nearby sack, bundled it up, and darted away, finding another hidden eave to conceal himself.

The sack held gold, silver, fine jade, and jewelry—but sadly, no blood-condensing technique Zhong Lin sought.

"No good. Sitting and waiting is safe, but I can't be sure who'll snag a blood-condensing technique. Fortune favors the bold—I've got to take a risk."

Zhong Lin's face hardened with resolve. He'd come here for the Du family's blood-condensing technique. With such a rare chance, he couldn't leave empty-handed.

Mind made up, he prepared to leap into the fray—when another familiar figure caught his eye.

"A big catch!"

From an unassuming courtyard amid the sea of flames, a group emerged. At their center was none other than Du Chong, the Second Young Master of the Du family.

Though Du Chong looked ragged—covered in bloodstains, part of his hair singed off—Zhong Lin recognized him instantly.

It wasn't just his face. Even masked, Zhong Lin could pick him out—he knew where every mole on the guy's body was.

That thought soured Zhong Lin's mood. Painting erotic art for Du Chong was hands-down the biggest stain on his life.

More importantly, Du Chong's chest bulged noticeably—he was carrying something.

Fleeing, the Second Young Master wouldn't bother with gold or treasures. If Zhong Lin had to guess, it was likely…

"A technique…"

Zhong Lin's eyes lit up. He sprang forward silently, closing in—then paused, holding his breath and focusing.

"Looks like I'm not the only one after him!"

With a burst of air, five more masked figures converged from different directions, surrounding Du Chong's group.

"Damn it, damn it, you filthy peasants!" Du Chong gritted his teeth, scanning the group. "All guards, hold them off! Yun Ye, get me out of here!"

"Yes, sir."

The Du family had raised retainers for years, and even in this crisis, some were still willing to lay down their lives.

Zhong Lin and the five others, all masked in black and strangers to each other, made the same choice in that instant—they drew their blades and charged.

Du Chong was a prize catch—they couldn't let him escape.

They weren't petty thieves after gold and silver. What they truly craved was a middle-tier blood-condensing technique, and as the Du family's second son, he'd surely know where it was.

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