Although none of the three items he had obtained could be used immediately, Han Li pocketed them all without the slightest hesitation. Then he rose to his feet, dusted himself off, and fixed his gaze on Jia Tianlong and the other members of the Wild Wolf Gang with an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and menace.
"Would you prefer to sever your own meridians, or shall I send you on your way myself?" Han Li's tone was polite, but his words left not the slightest room for negotiation.
Jia Tianlong felt a chill spread through his entire body at these words, so cold that his face seemed to freeze solid.
He kept telling himself to stay calm, that there had to be some way to deal with this young man, yet he could not help but wipe his face, only to find his forehead slick with cold sweat. He gave a bitter smile, knowing without a mirror that his complexion must look ghastly—likely the worst it had ever been.
He forced his neck to turn, glancing around at the others nearby. Every face was pale, each expression a mask of panic and dread, as though doom itself had descended upon them. These men fidgeted helplessly, showing not a flicker of fighting spirit.
In despair, Jia Tianlong's gaze drifted toward the Sect of Seven Mysteries. There stood his mortal enemy, Wang Juechu, staring at him with eyes that regarded a dead man walking. Most of the others wore expressions of vindication, as though long-owed justice had finally been served.
Jia Tianlong's mind went blank. His eyes wandered unconsciously beyond the edges of the death arena, settling on the men who were supposed to be his loyal subordinates. Their expressions varied—some anxious, some indifferent—but a large crowd had actually gathered together, whispering among themselves with unmistakable glee, as though they were thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
"No! I cannot die here like this! I will survive. I will live to complete my conquest!" The sight of some unknown expression among the crowd seemed to strike a nerve in Jia Tianlong, and a look of crazed determination suddenly ignited in his eyes.
"Iron guards, step forward! Repeating crossbows, ready! Everyone else—prepare your hidden weapons!" Jia Tianlong roared, channeling every ounce of his internal strength into his voice.
Jia Tianlong was, after all, the leader of a gang. This shout, infused with the full force of his inner power, jolted the dazed crowd in the death arena back to their senses, as though they had been pulled from a dream. Whether they were members of the Wild Wolf Gang or martial artists from smaller factions, all of them now found their courage restored and began to clench their fists and assume battle stances, ready to fight to the last man.
Han Li furrowed his brow ever so slightly, gave a soft snort, and then began to walk toward Jia Tianlong with his hands clasped behind his back, unhurried and alone.
"This is going to take a bit more effort than I'd hoped," he mused with a touch of self-deprecation.
"Loose the bolts!" The moment Han Li stepped within range of the repeating crossbows, Jia Tianlong licked his dry lips and gave the order without hesitation.
Instantly, several hundred bluish-steel bolts screamed through the air in a dense hail, converging on Han Li's position and leaving not a single gap through which anything could pass.
What followed was a scene of pure astonishment. Jia Tianlong watched in disbelief as the young man showed not the slightest fear in the face of the oncoming storm. Instead, he flashed an eerie smile, and then his body began to blur. The bolts that reached his position passed through him as though striking nothing at all, flying off into the distance. In that instant, his body seemed to have become weightless, devoid of physical substance. Then, in broad daylight, the figure wavered and vanished entirely without a trace.
Jia Tianlong's face turned ashen. He was about to order his men to be on guard when Han Li suddenly materialized less than fifteen paces away, as if conjured from thin air.
Before Jia Tianlong could give any command, the iron guards fired their repeating crossbows once more in a wild volley. This time, throwing darts, sleeve-arrows, and other hidden weapons joined the barrage, all hurtling toward Han Li in a concentrated storm. Yet once again, to the shock of every onlooker, their target vanished before their very eyes, leaving them staring at one another in bewilderment.
Just as Jia Tianlong was gripped by a paralyzing mix of terror and confusion, two agonized screams erupted from behind him. Startled, he whipped his head around.
There, not far away, two iron guards who had been standing shoulder to shoulder had suddenly become pillars of raging flame. The young man who had seemingly vanished was pulling his palms away from their bodies. The moment his hands separated from their flesh, the two guards crumbled to ash in the blink of an eye. From the palms he withdrew, Jia Tianlong caught a glimpse of crimson light flickering—an effect of some unknown technique or arcane art.
What Jia Tianlong had just witnessed was a flawless demonstration of Han Li blending magic power with martial skill. The red glow cupped in his palm was the small fireball of the Fireball Technique.
Han Li's magic power flowed steadily through his meridians, replenishing the fireball to its original size after the earlier expenditure. Then his form flickered and vanished once more, only to reappear at the far edge of the crowd, where he turned another man into a ball of searing flame.
In this manner, Han Li moved through the crowd like a phantom, appearing and disappearing at will. Each time he materialized, another victim was claimed. No matter where his hand touched—shoulder, arm, neck—the contact point erupted into instant flame, and the person was utterly consumed, vanishing from the world without a trace.
Jia Tianlong stared blankly ahead, the light drained from his eyes, his face a deathly gray-white.
In that brief span, more than half of his men had already perished. The survivors scrambled in every direction, desperate to flee, but against their attacker's ghostly movements, they were picked off one by one and reduced to ash.
When the last of his men was swallowed by flame, Jia Tianlong had gone completely numb.
He knew that the reason he still stood unharmed was simply that their attacker had chosen to spare him—until now. With every other soul eliminated, the fire of death would surely descend upon him next.
Han Li did not keep Jia Tianlong waiting any longer. After dispatching the last subordinate, he did not hesitate for even a heartbeat. He flickered to a position behind the gang leader and delivered a full-powered Fireball Technique as a parting courtesy, sending Boss Jia on his final journey.
After Jia Tianlong perished, Han Li dusted off his hands and murmured to himself, "Killing a few more people doesn't seem all that difficult after all. I told you to end yourselves—it would have been so much less painful that way. Now that I've had to do it myself, I'm afraid the sensation of burning isn't particularly pleasant."