Chapter 22: Don’t Cross Me

Chapter 22: Don't Provoke Me

"You... what do you think you're doing?"

Wei Zhen's face paled as Qin Chen suddenly raised his hand and swung a slap toward his face. Wei Zhen desperately tried to block, but Qin Chen's palm was too fast. Before he could even lift his arm, the energy-infused strike had already smashed into his cheek.

Crack!

The crisp impact echoed as Wei Zhen was sent flying. Blood and teeth sprayed through the air. His body crumpled like a ragdoll, thudding against the floor. Half his face swelled into a grotesque purple mass while he wailed in agony.

Witnessing this brutality, Wei Zhen's companion Wei Zhen trembled violently, legs buckling as icy dread seeped into his bones. He scrambled toward the exit—only to find Qin Chen blocking the doorway like an impassable mountain.

"You little bastard!" Wei Zhen spat through broken teeth, struggling to rise. His eyes burned crimson, resembling a wounded beast gone mad. "Do you know who I am? You're dead! Hear me? Dead!"

Rage—all-consuming, unprecedented rage—boiled in his chest. Never in his privileged life had he suffered such humiliation. The scorching shame blurred his vision, fueling his desperate urge to tear Qin Chen limb from limb.

Qin Chen answered with a whip-fast kick.

Crunch!

Wei Zhen's jaw dislocated with a sickening pop. Blood and saliva sprayed as he collapsed again, skull pounding and limbs convulsing.

"So you're Wei Zhen?" Qin Chen loomed over him, eyes sharpened daggers. "Let me make this clear: Provoke me again, and I'll end you. Consider this your only warning."

His aura condensed into twin blades of killing intent that pierced Wei Zhen's psyche.

Boom!

Wei Zhen's mind blanked. The shadow of death engulfed him as those eyes—those merciless eyes—stabbed into his soul.

"AAAAHHH!"

A primal scream tore from his throat. For an instant, he felt himself dragged into the Ninth Hell itself, subjected to unspeakable torments. Warmth spread across his trousers—he'd wet himself. This ultimate disgrace jolted him back to reality.

Thud!

Qin Chen's boot crushed Wei Zhen's dantian. The noble heir shrieked before collapsing unconscious.

Nearby, Wei Zhen stood paralyzed. His ashen face twitched before he lunged desperately toward the door.

"Escape now? Too late."

Qin Chen's fist blurred. Bang! Wei Zhen was hurled backward, crashing onto the cold stones.

Tap... tap... tap...

The approaching footsteps might as well have been a death knell. Wei Zhen crawled upright, kowtowing frantically. "Qin Chen—no, Lord Chen! Mercy! I'll never dare again! I'm scum, less than scum! Spare me!"

"Indeed. Less than scum."

Thump!

The kick shattered Wei Zhen's dantian before he could react. His burly frame slammed against the wall, eyes rolling back as darkness claimed him.

Qin Chen smirked coldly. Though he'd spared their lives, his true energy had crippled their cultivation meridians. Upon waking, they'd find their martial paths permanently frozen.

Turning to the battered Lin Tian and Zhang Ying, Qin Chen helped them up. A few precise presses along their pressure points channeled warm energy through their bodies. Bruises faded and swelling subsided.

"Lord Chen, you..."

The two youths gaped, minds reeling from the spectacle. Their friend's ruthless efficiency left them equal parts awed and bewildered.

"Rest now. They won't trouble you again." Guilt flickered through Qin Chen. Had he not involved them, these loyal friends might have avoided this ordeal.

"But Lord Chen, Wei Zhen is the Marquis' heir! When his father demands justice from your household—"

"Worry not." Warmth softened Qin Chen's gaze. Even after betrayal in his past life, this genuine concern touched him. "Here—two cultivation mantras. Practice them."

He assessed their stalled progress at the early Human Stage peak and imparted simplified techniques from his divine knowledge.

"Lord Chen, this is—"

"You'll understand after practicing."

Qin Chen sighed inwardly. Despite past betrayals, he still chose to trust. Let this friendship prove truer than the last.

After seeing them off, Qin Chen wandered homeward, mind churning not with thoughts of noble retaliation, but practical concerns:

Resources.

His reconstructed meridians demanded astronomical quantities of cultivation materials—especially with the Nine-Star Divine Emperor Art's insatiable requirements. Each breakthrough would consume tenfold a normal warrior's resources.

"Coins aren't omnipotent..." he murmured, recalling an old adage, "...but penniless cultivators are impotent."

Previously reliant on his mother Qin Yuechi's strained household allowance, he now needed independent income streams.

Lost in financial calculations, he scarcely noticed arriving at the Qin Manor gates.

"Young Master Chen."

The guards bowed stiffly, their eyes darting with poorly concealed unease.

Qin Chen's brow furrowed but he proceeded inward.

Three paces into the courtyard, scarlet silk fluttered. A tall maiden materialized before him—eighteen summers old, raven hair cascading over crimson robes. Her porcelain skin glowed beneath phoenix-sharp eyes and rosebud lips, exuding vibrancy that belied the frost in her gaze...