"So this is the place..."
Once Wang Chen confirmed this was indeed the hideout and the spy wasn't trying to fool him, he flicked his wrist with casual precision.
Meanwhile, as soon as the spy entered the building, he rushed to his quarters, ignoring the calls of other gang members who tried to greet him.
"Old Fang! There you are... Boss has been looking for you."
"Now that you're back, did you finally manage to find—"
Old Fang ignored them all, slamming and locking his door before collapsing onto his bed.
Out of nowhere, a heavy suffocation filled his entire being. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead without stopping, each drop like ice against his fevered skin.
Then: Tick! Tick!
A mechanical sound of gears turning against worn surfaces began echoing inside his head. For a terrifying moment, Old Fang seemed to see a phantom timepiece suddenly appear before him, its giant hand tearing through the air to land directly on his chest.
Terrified, he let out an instinctive scream: "Save me!"
But it was too late.
Bang!
A subdued sound, like a watermelon exploding, filled the room. Within moments, the interior was dyed crimson.
There had still been a few minutes before the timer was set to expire, but Wang Chen had made it detonate early. This was the flexibility the skill provided—he was not bound by the clock's pace.
Wang Chen waited a moment to confirm the target was truly dead. After another breath of time, the sound of commotion came from inside the building, confirming his success.
The poor fool was definitely dead. Internally, Wang Chen felt secretly terrified of his own skill. What if some cultivators also possessed abilities similar to his? He might never know exactly how he died if he encountered such a foe.
However, just as Wang Chen was about to turn back and walk away, a frown appeared on his face.
Out of nowhere, the sounds of commotion had faded to nothing. Surprised, Wang Chen looked around, only to find the world around him had turned slightly foggy. Realizing something was amiss, a chill crept down his spine.
Just as his mind was about to enter full panic mode, a voice sweet as thousand-year-old honey and sonorous as birdsong drifted over:
"Fellow Daoist, what's the rush? Why not stop for a moment..."
Wang Chen was inwardly shaken. He was ready to use the Tower's functions to save his life, but he resisted the urge. On the outside, he acted calm and composed, saying in a level voice:
"Fellow Daoist, if you're already here, why don't you show yourself..." Of course, he was just probing—not really sure if the other party would be willing to reveal themselves.
Then she appeared.
An extremely beautiful woman with almond-shaped eyes and skin as white as fresh snow, her alluring figure hidden beneath a beautiful flowery robe. At this moment, those mesmerizing eyes were focused entirely on Wang Chen's figure.
She had just witnessed a cultivator toyed with unto death.
Wang Chen heard the voice but pretended not to care. Just a moment ago, as the sound of the explosion came, unknown fragments of memories had also appeared in his head—the final memories of his victim before death.
This was surprising. Wang Chen had not been expecting such a side effect.
Finally, his eyes turned to the woman in the distance. Acting nonchalant, he said lazily, "So Fellow Daoist finally decided to show yourself," as if he had been aware of her presence all along.
"Greetings... this humble one goes by the name Wang—not as in 'ding dong,' but as in 'king.'"
He delivered the line with a completely straight face, his eyes scanning the woman's figure with calculated casualness.
Internally, however, his expression had darkened. He could sense no fluctuation of qi at all from this woman—she appeared to be nothing more than a mortal.
Yet the intense feeling of mortal danger he was experiencing told him this woman was anything but ordinary.
Meanwhile, the woman stood completely stunned after hearing Wang Chen's introduction, hardly believing her ears.
"After how many millennia has someone actually dared to jest so freely with me... Who is this ignorant young man?"
Zi Han couldn't stop herself from giving Wang Chen another appraising glance.
There was no fear in those eyes, as if nothing in the world could intimidate him.
To her surprise, there truly was no terror in his gaze. She could tell at first glance that the young man before her was extremely young—just twenty-five years old and only at Qi Refining rank 4.
"What utter trash cultivation!"
However, she kept these thoughts to herself. Just a moment ago, that aura had carried the weight of heavenly laws...
This man could not be taken lightly.
Thinking up to this point, a smile appeared on her face, and in a sweet voice she said, "Fellow Daoist, the technique you used just now has captured my interest. Would you be kind enough to teach it to me?"
Without delay, Wang Chen inwardly nodded.
"Why not, Fellow Daoist? It would be my pleasure."
He paused for effect, then delivered his conditions with perfect seriousness:
"Just accept me as your master..."
Zi Han had barely processed these words when her face froze completely.
She pointed her index finger at herself and asked in confirmation: "You want me to accept you as Master?"
Wang Chen nodded solemnly. "I only teach my techniques to my students. If you wish to learn it, that is the only way."
After that, Zi Han fell silent. Wang Chen also said nothing more, simply taking his leave with the air of someone who had made a perfectly reasonable offer.
Unknown to him, Zi Han watched him depart, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "A cultivator actually wanted to take the Demon Queen as a disciple... how interesting."
If cultivators at the Nascent Soul realm were to hear her words, they would likely freeze to death from pure terror. "Demon Queen"—these were two words that should never be spoken lightly.
After all, they reminded people of the era that most wanted desperately to forget.