68: Chapter 68 We Have to Pamper Him

Water droplets slid down his lean, strong muscles; under the dim oil lamp, that bronze skin shimmered with a metallic luster.

The wound had already stopped bleeding, leaving only a faint red mark.

This was the terrifying recovery power brought by the "Endless Life" trait.

He dried his body, put on his clothes, and sat back down on the bed.

Chen Mo felt his mind clear up considerably; he suddenly understood several obscure force-exertion techniques within "Returning Origin Strength" that had baffled him before.

"So that's how it is. Strength shouldn't just flow smoothly; one must also learn to 'hide' and 'explode'..."

He casually threw a punch.

There was no sound of wind.

But the moment his fist stopped, a crisp crack suddenly erupted in the air.

"Crack!"

If this hit a person, they would look fine on the outside, but their internal organs would be shattered by the vibration.

"Tomorrow, Spring Breeze Pavilion."

Chen Mo blew out the lamp and lay on the bed, his hand still gripping the hilt of the blade under his pillow.

"Tiger Wang, Tie Shan, and that Liu Feng hiding in the gutters..."

In the darkness, his breathing gradually became long and faint, like a hibernating old turtle.

"We'll take our time playing this game."

"As long as I don't die, I'll outlast all of you sooner or later."

That night, Chen Mo slept very soundly.

...

Axe Gang Headquarters, Hall of Unity.

Calling this place a hall was a stretch; it was actually a converted large warehouse. Several large axes, intimidating but unsharpened, hung on the walls. In the center lay a tiger skin Tiger Wang had bought from a hunter for a high price; it had a bald patch and looked like it had mange.

"Sect Leader! You have to stand up for me!"

Ghost Foot Seven knelt as soon as he entered, his knees hitting the bluestone floor with a thud that sounded painful.

His Face was now swollen like a pig's head, and his speech whistled. He spat out bloody froth mixed with half a tooth while lamenting.

"That kid named Chen is too arrogant! I handed him the invitation, giving him plenty of Face, and what happened? He let that big oaf slap me directly! This isn't just hitting my Face; it's grinding our Axe Gang's Face into the mud!"

Ghost Foot Seven embellished the story, describing Chen Mo as a reckless youth who didn't know his place and pointed at Tiger Wang's nose to curse his mother.

Tiger Wang sat on the tiger-skin chair, fiddling with a pair of Iron Balls in his hand that clacked incessantly. He didn't look at Ghost Foot Seven, but instead looked at the Strategist sitting beside him.

The Strategist was a thin old man with a goatee, holding a folding fan and squinting at Ghost Foot Seven's wretched Face.

"Old Seven, stop wailing," Tiger Wang spoke unhurriedly. "A tooth fell out?"

"Two fell out! Those were my molars, Sect Leader!" Ghost Foot Seven opened his mouth wide, pointing at the bloody gap.

Tiger Wang smiled.

It wasn't the smile of someone furious, but the smile of a businessman who had made a profit.

"Strategist, what do you think?"

The Strategist closed his folding fan and tapped his palm. "Interesting. When the Sect Leader returned the blacksmith shop, it was just a casual move, thinking the kid had some grit and might become a thug later. Who would have thought this chess piece would grow legs and jump onto the board itself?"

"Go on." Tiger Wang placed the Iron Balls on the table.

"I've checked that Chen Mo kid; he has a clean background and used to be a quiet one. Suddenly he's promoted to head catcher and dares to challenge us, even hitting Old Seven. What does that mean?" The Strategist paused, his gaze sharpening. "It means he has backing."

"Where's his backing?"

"Ye Zhiqiu," the Strategist uttered three words. "Aside from that new female chief constable, no one could make him rise so quickly. Moreover, by daring to hit Old Seven today, he's offering a tribute to Ye Zhiqiu—telling those above that he's not one of us local snakes."

Tiger Wang nodded with an appreciative look. "I thought so too. This kid is smart."

Ghost Foot Seven was dumbfounded.

He clutched his swollen Face, his eyes wide. "Sect Leader, Strategist, you... what do you mean? He hit me, and we're praising his intelligence? Are we just going to swallow this insult?"

"Swallow it?" Tiger Wang glanced at him as if looking at a fool. "Old Seven, we're here for money, not for spite. Right now West City is a mess, with the Liu Family and the Ye Family fighting like gods. Since Chen Mo is Ye Zhiqiu's blade, we must fawn over him."

"Fawn over him?"

"Yes, fawn over him." Tiger Wang stood up, walked to Ghost Foot Seven, and patted his shoulder—Ghost Foot Seven flinched in pain. "For tomorrow's banquet, raise the quality by another level. Also, prepare a generous gift, say it's to calm his nerves."

"Sect Leader!" Ghost Foot Seven grew anxious.

"Shut up." Tiger Wang's Face instantly turned cold; the businessman's affability vanished, replaced by a bloody aura. "Old Seven, if you can't figure it out, I can find someone else to sit in the second-in-command's seat."

Ghost Foot Seven trembled all over and kowtowed. "I understand... your subordinate understands."

"Go now. Find a doctor to fix your teeth; you still have to accompany us for drinks tomorrow. It won't look good if your speech whistles."

Ghost Foot Seven backed out.

Once outside the Hall of Unity, the cold wind blew away the fear in Ghost Foot Seven's eyes, leaving only pure malice.

He touched the empty gum, his tongue flicking over it, tasting rust.

"Fawn over him? Fawn over your damn uncle!"

Ghost Foot Seven spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground.

Tiger Wang wanted to do business and bet on both sides; that was Tiger Wang's business. Ghost Foot Seven had survived in West City all these years by being ruthless. If he let this slap go, how would his subordinates look at him?

"Chen Mo..."

Ghost Foot Seven touched the short axe at his waist, his gaze sinister. "If I can't do it openly, I'll play dirty. When you're alone, I'll let you know how many ways there are to die in West City's sewers."

...

Chen Mo's house, bedroom.

The doors and windows were tightly shut, and the curtains were drawn closed.

Several medicine packets were laid out on the table, which he had bought earlier at a high price. Besides the standard bone strengthening powder, there was also a packet of scraps he had scavenged from a corner of the apothecary—Purple Leaf Root.

This stuff was cheap; it was said its medicinal properties were too intense, causing diarrhea or even internal damage in ordinary people.

But while browsing through the memories in his mind, Chen Mo vaguely recalled that this intense herb had a powerful stimulating effect on Qi and blood.

"Let's try it."

Chen Mo threw the Purple Leaf Root into the medicine pot and brewed it together with the bone strengthening powder.

Half an hour later.

A bowl of dark, strangely purple-glowing medicinal soup was ready. The smell was extremely pungent, like a pot of rotten socks boiled with chili water.

Chen Mo didn't hesitate; he picked it up and gulped it down.

"Gulp."

The soup entered his stomach, but unlike the mild medicines from before, it felt like swallowing a piece of red-hot coal.

"Boom!"

A surge of heat instantly exploded in his stomach, rampaging through his Meridians.

If it were an ordinary person, they would likely be clutching their stomach and rolling on the ground by now, preparing for three days and nights of diarrhea.

But Chen Mo was different.

He immediately assumed the stance work of "Returning Origin Strength," guiding this violent medicinal power.