Chapter 962 - 358: Your Death Stunt Is Just Too Childish! (Part 4)

Various passages and the hall.

The elite squads led by Chu Kuanglan and the others are fiercely battling the endlessly emerging black-robed guards.

Swords and blades flash, the Soul-breaking Nail precisely pierces into the head or heart of the black-robed people, each hit accompanied by the total collapse of a Corpse Puppet.

On the screen, black-robed people fall like harvested wheat, and murky black blood stains the ground and walls red.

The building’s exterior and middle area.

The ragtag veteran soldiers led by Liu San are engaging in chaotic combat with the guards of the Celestial Punishment Association fueled by a fearless ferocity and numerical advantage.

Their equipment may be crude, their coordination raw, but the battle intention suppressed for decades has erupted in astonishing combat power.

Where the elite in blue led by Gui Lao from the Lingxiao Association pass.

The black-robed guards are torn like paper.

The entire headquarters of the Celestial Punishment Association has transformed into a massive blood and flesh grinder.

The number of black-robed guards visibly decreases, and foul blood almost saturates every inch of the ground.

Meanwhile, inside the reception room.

The atmosphere starkly contrasts with the brutal scenes on the screen.

Watching the black-robed people representing their side being harvested like weeds, these high-class individuals not only have no sorrow or anger but rather their excitement and anticipation grow stronger.

They converse softly, eyes glinting with a near-pathological feverish glow.

As if the more blood flows on the screen...

The greater the benefit to them.

The figure in a scarlet robe sits in the main seat.

With a composure smile of controlling everything on his face.

Elegantly raising the crystal glass filled with dark red liquid like blood in hand.

"Honored investors,"

his voice gentle, as if hosting a grand ceremony,

"Let us raise a glass."

"For our shared future..."

"For the God that is exclusively ours about to be born!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

"For God!"

The ten dignitaries raise their glasses with fervent yet reserved smiles.

The clinking of crystal glasses creates a crisp, pleasant sound.

Echoing in the luxurious, warm reception room.

The wine in the glass, crimson as blood.

Reflecting the silent flowing blood on the screen.

However!

Just as their glasses are about to touch, their cheers reach a peak...

"Squeak."

The thick, soundproof mahogany door of the reception room.

Pushed open silently by a hand covered with faint starlight, like jade.

A clear male voice, calm without a ripple.

Even carrying a bit of polite apology, clearly transmitted into everyone’s ear, freezing all commotion and fervor instantly.

"Sorry to interrupt your celebration."

"However, seeing your joy, a piece of bad news might need to be reported in advance."

Fang Qingyu’s calm voice.

Like a basin of ice water, pouring over the fervor just kindled in the reception room.

Those high-class individuals, who moments ago were raising glasses, faces aglow, dreaming of God’s favor and boundless power, when seeing the young image at the door dressed in gray combat uniform.

Their ecstatic expressions instantly freeze, then transform into extreme terror.

"Ah—!"

"Block it! Quickly block your face!"

Piercing screams and frantic orders immediately replace the cheers.

Like cats who’ve had their tails stepped on, their first reaction isn’t questioning or resisting.

But scrambling to cover their faces in chaos.

Some abruptly grab the silver dining plates on the table to cover their faces, others frantically pull expensive napkins to cover their heads, and yet others instinctively dive towards the sofa’s backrest, curling their entire bodies as if this could make them vanish into the air.

The meticulously maintained dignified and superior demeanor completely destroyed.

Only remains a pathetic fear and an intense panic over having their identities exposed.

Fang Qingyu walks in leisurely, casually closing the heavy mahogany door, isolating the outside commotion.

With a slight hint of a smile on his face.

His glance sweeps over the dignitaries comparable to frightened quails, his tone relaxed as if in casual conversation:

"No need to block it, gentlemen." Fang Qingyu slightly tilted his head, the curve of his mouth carrying a hint of sarcasm, "You should have been too busy for the past two or three days preparing for the arrival of God to contact your homes in the Federation, right?"

He then paused, savoring the fear-stricken eyes peeking from between fingers or behind dinner plates, and leisurely delivered the final blow:

"Rest assured, your homes have now been completely wiped out, clean as a whistle."

Boom!

This statement was like a bomb going off in the waiting room.

"No...impossible!"

The middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses, possessing a refined and scholarly demeanor, suddenly put down the plate obscuring his face. His well-preserved face twisted instantly, shrieking in a voice edge with panic, "Do you... do you know who we are?! Behind us..."

"Heh."

Fang Qingyu chuckled lightly, cutting off his rant.

His laughter was filled with blatant mockery, "Who are you? Or who are you all?"

He casually spread his hands, his gaze sweeping over faces that were either deathly pale or livid.

"To be honest, I truly don’t know, nor do I care."

Fang Qingyu strolled to an empty leather sofa nearby and sat down with a relaxed posture.

He even picked up an unopened bottle of top-grade champagne from the coffee table.

He inspected the label with interest.

"I only know."

Fang Qingyu set down the bottle, lifted his eyes to the man with the gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze clear and innocent, yet every word he spoke was devastating.

"It was Old Man Hong himself who led people to raid your homes. After he finished, he even took the time to chat with me."

Fang Qingyu imitated Old Man Hong’s raspy, insouciant tone with uncanny accuracy: "Tsk tsk, you little punk, guess what? This bunch of fools’ hideouts are really damn rich, so much fat and wealth, I’ve never seen so much in my lifetime!"

Saying this, Fang Qingyu paused.

He observed the man with gold-rimmed glasses, whose face turned as white as paper, teetering on the edge of collapse, and the utterly despairing eyes of others.

A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he leisurely added Old Man Hong’s ’concern’:

"He also said, once you’re done here, he’ll share some of the spoils with you. After all, without you as the bait, we wouldn’t have caught such a fat catch."

"Thud!"

"Clatter!"

Someone could no longer support themselves, collapsing directly onto the ground.

Someone’s wine glass slipped from their hand, spilling expensive red wine onto the luxurious carpet.

The entire waiting room fell into a dead silence, filled only with the sound of heavy, desperate breathing and the chattering of teeth.

The vast wealth and power networks they painstakingly built, regarded as their foundation and retreat.

In front of the Federation, a true national machine.

At the hands of legendary figures like Old Man Hong, it was as fragile as a paper castle.

In one night, turned to ashes.

All their reliance, all their arrogance, shattered by Fang Qingyu’s casual words.

"Clap, clap, clap..."

Just then.

Crisp and slow clapping abruptly echoed.

The man in the red robe, who had been sitting in the main sofa, quietly watching all this.

Slowly placed down his wine glass.

The gentle and humble smile on his face had long disappeared, replaced by an expression of apparent understanding, and an indescribable admiration.

He clapped his hands, his gaze piercing through the chaos and despairing crowd.

Locked firmly onto Fang Qingyu.

"Brilliant. Truly brilliant."

The red-robed man’s voice was low and steady, without a trace of panic, instead tinged with admiration, "Not worthy of Captain Fang. Such a ruthless move to cut the ground from under, truly awe-inspiring, a wonder to behold."

He stood up, slowly pacing, circumventing the collapsed dignitaries, arriving at the spot across from Fang Qingyu, separated by the wide coffee table, and looked calmly into Fang Qingyu’s eyes.

An overwhelming aura silently enveloped the room.

"To be able to sneak in here quietly..." the red-robed man slightly nodded, his gaze complex, "I admit, I underestimated you."

Fang Qingyu leaned back in the sofa, his demeanor still relaxed.

But upon seeing the man in the red robe.

The mischievous smile on his face faded away.

Becoming extraordinarily calm, with even a hint of seriousness.

He leaned forward slightly, hands crossed over his knees.

His eyes fixed on the red-robed man’s face, marked by the passage of time, and spoke earnestly.

"Old Captain."

"Didn’t have the chance to say it last time."

"This time, I really have to critique your death stunt..."

"It was truly damn childish."