Chapter 115: Sworn Brothers!

At the entrance of the school, by the fragrant steamed bun shop, Ling Qiu appeared. He had not come here out of any naive hope for security footage; he possessed a far more concise method.

Hum!

Ling Qiu turned the Yama Ring. Instantly, an aura coated his eyes. The passersby around him took no notice, but his pupils were now veiled in a faint, eerie cyan glow, as if ghostly flames were hidden within.

Before Ling Qiu’s eyes, everything turned monochrome. People and objects alike were rendered in shades of black and white. Yet, within the slowly drifting air inside the bun shop, a few wisps of faint green aura swirled. Though subtle, they were impossible to miss in this desaturated world.

Ling Qiu stepped forward, gathered the aura into his palm, and brought it to his nose.

"Hiss..."

Ling Qiu took a deep breath, memorizing the scent. Then, he looked toward the west.

"He... left in this direction."

Ling Qiu smiled slightly. With his hands in his pockets, maintaining an air of nonchalance, he walked to the roadside and hailed a taxi. "Driver, I’ll direct you. You just drive wherever I say."

And so, guided by Ling Qiu, the taxi headed west.

The "Yang-Suppressing Technique" was a minor, albeit complex, art. In the process of casting it, one would inevitably leave behind traces of residual aura. Inspector Xing, clever as he thought he was, had been outsmarted by his own hubris. He could never have imagined that Ling Qiu was the former King of Hell. If he so desired, he could see through any aura related to the ghostly arts at a single glance.

"We're here."

After a long drive, the car stopped outside a detached villa. Ling Qiu handed over the last of his three hundred yuan to cover the fare. By the time they arrived, dusk was already fading into night. Tracking the trail had led him to the far western edge of Jiangnan Province, nearly crossing the provincial border.

Flicking the last remaining coin in his wallet, Ling Qiu toyed with it as he strolled confidently toward the villa gates.

"Sir, how can I help you?" Two burly security guards stepped forward, blocking his path.

"Who is in charge here?" Ling Qiu asked.

The two guards exchanged glances, frowning. Seeing Ling Qiu’s shabby attire, they could tell he was nobody of importance, yet they maintained a veneer of professional courtesy. One could judge the refinement and status of a master by the quality of his gatekeepers.

"Sir, if you haven't made an appointment, we cannot let you in."

Ling Qiu replied, "I don't need you to let me in. Just tell me who is in charge."

The guards looked at Ling Qiu as if he were an idiot. Where did this kid come from? Did he not know this was the grand estate of the Xing family, one of the three great clans of Jiangnan Province?

Having no grudge against these working men, Ling Qiu did not want to resort to force. After a moment's thought, he said, "I'm here to see the one surnamed Xing."

Surnamed Xing? The guards’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads. Good heavens! Who was this kid? How dare he address the Xing family in such a tone? Was he tired of living? Besides, there were several people named Xing in this house; heaven knew which one he wanted!

"May I ask... who is calling?" the guards asked tentatively.

Ling Qiu, unwilling to waste more words, suddenly intensified the malevolent aura surrounding him. In an instant, the guards’ hearts trembled. Fear, inexplicable and sharp, crawled up their spines, making their hair stand on end. This pressure surged directly into the estate. Ling Qiu was sending a signal: he had arrived.

Beep-beep!

Suddenly, a guard's radio crackled. He quickly pulled it out, and a voice commanded, "Mr. Xing says to let this man in and bring him directly to the second-floor study."

Ling Qiu’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his aura dissipated instantly.

"Yes, sir!" The guard nodded repeatedly and gestured for him to enter, still whispering to himself in confusion. Who was this kid? How could he possibly know the Xing family? And what was that terrifying, fleeting sensation from a moment ago?

Before they could ponder further, Ling Qiu strolled inside.

Upon reaching the second-floor study, a servant opened the door. Four people were inside. One man sat behind a desk with an air of imposing authority, puffing slowly on a cigar. When he noticed Ling Qiu enter, he didn't even bother to turn his head, his eyes remaining fixed on the man in front of him.

That man, wearing a white shirt, sat on the sofa with two burly bodyguards standing at his sides.

"Hm? Mr. Xing... who is this?" the man in the white shirt asked, looking stunned.

The man addressed as Mr. Xing did not answer. He exhaled a long plume of smoke and said, "You may all leave now."

"Mr. Xing," the man in the white shirt rose, his expression earnest. "About what we just discussed..."

"Not a chance," Mr. Xing said coldly. "Go."

"Mr. Xing, please... think about it again! Our daughter, Xiaofang, truly loves your eldest son... and our two families have maintained business ties for years. We are a good match..."

"A good match?" Mr. Xing gave a cold laugh. "To be blunt, your Liang family is merely a dog we have raised to prominence. Frequent contact does not mean we are equals. You need to understand that."

The man in the white shirt was left speechless, his face pale with humiliation and suppressed rage, yet he dared not show a hint of defiance.

Mr. Xing waved his hand. "Go. I don't want to say anything harsher. Don't bring up such self-important delusions again. Just stay behind the Xing family, and there will be enough scraps for you to eat."

"But..."

"Get out." Mr. Xing frowned. "Don't you see I have a guest?"

Sensing Mr. Xing’s rising temper, the man in the white shirt finally gave up, bowed hastily, and retreated.

Click. The door closed, and the room was left with only Ling Qiu and the imposing man.

"Sit," the man said, his tone brief and authoritative.

Ling Qiu acted as if he hadn't heard. He wandered around the study, picking up objects to examine them and weighing ornaments in his hand. The middle-aged man frowned at this behavior, but then exhaled another cloud of smoke. "Speak. Do you want money, or something else?"

Ling Qiu still ignored him.

The man narrowed his eyes, a hint of killing intent creeping into his voice. "State your terms, and from now on, stay out of this matter. You cannot save that man, Zhao Dezhu."