Chapter Seventy-Seven: Qin Feng!

At that moment, Second Uncle spoke up from the front.
“Shun, this isn’t how you should handle things. My eldest brother’s life is hanging by a thread right now—don’t push things too far.” His tone was remarkably restrained, yet I could still hear the urgency in his voice.
These people had undoubtedly come for the Blue-Blood Dragon Pattern, and now, with us exhausted and depleted, if a fight broke out, we would surely come off worse.
Then the old man, whom Second Uncle addressed as Shun, replied, “Yuan Six is a tough old dog; he won’t die so easily. You young ones needn’t fret. Old Shun will wait right here for him to wake up and reminisce.”
He said this, then displayed a mouthful of rotten, black teeth as he chuckled.
Liu’s dim-witted fellow responded, “Grandpa Shun, the old master and Second Uncle are reasonable men, but the rest of us are all brutes. If you’re determined to stand in our way, don’t blame us for disregarding seniority.”
As soon as he finished, my father’s dozen or so workers drew their weapons in unison. The opposing group didn’t flinch either; seeing we were ready for a fight, they immediately squared up.
I’d witnessed gang fights before, but compared to the scene before me, those were child’s play—mere cockfights. Both sides had guns in hand, and here in this wild, deserted place, the slightest move would surely end in bloodshed. The tension was palpable; looking at Dimwit with my father on his back, my anxiety grew.
I planned to go over, but as soon as I stood, my vision blurred. Fatty steadied me, and I finally regained my balance. Shaking my head, I ignored everything else and stepped across the riverbed’s pebbles.
Fatty seemed reluctant to get involved, clicking his tongue, but he still ran up behind me.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to me as I approached.
“Well, well, the young master of the Yuan family,” Old Shun said with a faint smile. “Ah, at last, I get to meet my little nephew.”
I ignored him and went straight to Dimwit’s side. “Dad…” I called several times, but my father didn’t respond.
Qin Feng suddenly shouted over his shoulder, “Fatso, didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on the young master and not let him come over?”
Fatty was clearly annoyed. “To hell with your young master! If it weren’t for Yuan Six’s sake, I’d have been long gone. Don’t think I’m one of your family’s lackeys.”
Old Shun recognized Fatty, “So that’s who you are—a little punk from Yanjing. Fatty, when did you start working with Yuan Six?”
Fatty had been glaring at Qin Feng, but upon hearing this, he turned his head. He narrowed his eyes and sized up Old Shun, “Who the hell are you? How dare you talk to your grandpa like that?”
As soon as he spoke, several of the other side’s men prepared to rush forward. Old Shun stopped them with a cold sneer, “Cao Fatty, you’re not planning to meddle in this today, are you?”
Fatty, with his bad temper, was clearly infuriated by the “little punk” remark. He probably hadn’t intended to interfere, but now he certainly wouldn’t let it go.
“Old bastard, don’t think you’re hot stuff just because you run things in Shanxi. If the Li family didn’t cover for you, you’d have been turtle soup by now.” With that, Fatty snatched the gun from Little Tiger’s hands, leaving Little Tiger dumbfounded.

Fatty’s words left Old Shun struggling to maintain his composure; I saw his eyelids twitching.
I cared nothing for their disputes; all I wanted was to get my father to a hospital. In this sweltering heat, he wouldn’t last much longer. My anxiety boiled over, and I prepared to rush up and beat that old bastard, caring little whether he was Shun or not.
But as soon as I moved, a hand suddenly pressed down on my shoulder. Turning, I saw it was my father’s hand.
Everyone immediately gathered around as soon as they saw him move.
“Dad, are you alright?” In the sunlight, my father’s face was devoid of color, his forehead tinged with blue.
“Mmm…” My father squinted, contemplating for a long while before slowly lifting his head to look at Old Shun, a slight smile curling on his lips. “Shun, who… sent you here?”
Old Shun smiled, “Yuan Six, since when does Old Shun take orders from anyone?”
After he spoke, my father let out a couple of raspy laughs, then switched to our dialect, “Damn you, you turtle son, when have you ever not been summoned around by others?”
“You…” Old Shun’s face flushed with anger.
“Heh, Qin Feng…” my father called.
Qin Feng stepped forward, “Master, how do you want them to die?”
The moment Qin Feng uttered this, not only the opposing group but even I was startled. Qin Feng, bandaged from head to toe, held only a dagger, yet his gaze toward those men was full of disdain. In this world, everyone has a temper, but you’d best not show it in front of those who don’t care for their lives—and Qin Feng was precisely the sort who’d play for keeps at any moment.
“I told you, once we’re out of the tomb, don’t just go killing people…” My father glanced at Qin Feng. “He’s an old hand in this business, too.”
“Understood,” Qin Feng replied, stepping forward.
What happened next I’ll never forget; whenever I recall Qin Feng’s actions then, a shudder runs through me.
The men opposite clearly didn’t know Qin Feng. Seeing him, stripped to the waist and armed only with a dagger, walking straight to the front, they were offended, thinking he was looking down on them.
But Qin Feng didn’t even glance at the opposing workers; he strode directly toward Old Shun.
Unlike his men, Old Shun was wary of Qin Feng; as Qin Feng drew near, Old Shun pursed his lips and barked, “Madman Qin, take one more step and you’re dead!”
His words were firm—if it were me, I might have halted. But Qin Feng seemed not to hear, continuing forward. Suddenly, sweat began to bead on Old Shun’s face; his men grew tense as well.
A strange aura radiated from Qin Feng, making even those of us in the back uneasy. The other side’s weapons were all loaded—was Qin Feng truly unafraid?

Earlier, I’d thought both sides were about to clash, the tension so high a stray shot could spark chaos. Yet Qin Feng walked forward calmly, as if he saw only Old Shun, with the dozen fierce, armed men mere shadows.
“Damn…”
Finally, a man behind Old Shun lifted his gun, intending to bar Qin Feng’s advance. As he moved, Qin Feng turned his gaze toward him.
Qin Feng said nothing, merely stared coldly at the man, who froze in place, his face turning ashen.
The aura emanating from Qin Feng was terrifying—not a display of bravado or ferocity, but a willingness to stake his life. I understood very well: even if those men were just cowards relying on borrowed strength, in this situation, if any one of them lost his nerve and challenged Qin Feng, Qin Feng would be dead in an instant. In this godforsaken place, killing a man was a matter of a single word.
Yet Qin Feng’s presence had already overwhelmed them. When he came face to face with Old Shun, none of the gun-wielding men dared make a move. I immediately noticed their fear: every face was filled with dread of Qin Feng.
Fatty whispered to me, “Damn, who knew your family had someone like him?”
All my attention was on Qin Feng, watching him stand before Old Shun, knife in hand, my heart pounding wildly. What was he planning—stab the old man to death?
At this moment, Old Shun’s face was pale; he looked at Qin Feng, his limbs trembling. “Qin Feng, you…” he stammered, retreating step by step.
As the boss retreated, his men’s reaction was predictable. Old Shun glared fiercely at them, “You useless fools, still standing there… Ah!”
Before he could finish, Qin Feng suddenly grabbed his right wrist, twisted it backwards, and with a crack, Old Shun’s arm broke.
“Ah!”
Hearing Old Shun’s scream, several men wanted to rush forward, but one look at Qin Feng’s face stopped them cold.
Two iron pellets fell to the ground, and now, Old Shun’s head was pressed against them. He lay prone, his right hand numb, looking back in terror at Qin Feng.
Qin Feng regarded Old Shun as if he were a dog. “My master has no time to reminisce with you. Either die, or leave immediately. Your choice.”