Chapter Sixteen: The Cursed Assassin

Ruan Feng picked up the tongs and straightened out the squid skewers, replying awkwardly, “Miss Fang, you’re joking too much. You’re a lady from a respected family, with more money than you could ever spend. I’m just a common man from the lower rungs of society, relying on this kind of business to make ends meet. Now, if you intend to snatch my livelihood, I’m sure you’d succeed every time. What can I do but watch? After all, you’re a great beauty and Ding Jun is a handsome man. That’s just how society works—beautiful men and women take the lion’s share, and people like me can only scrape up the leftovers to fill our bellies…”

He spoke with such pitiful earnestness that even Ding Jun couldn’t bear to look away.

“After this round, I’m done with this business,” Ruan Feng added. “I just swore that no matter the effort, I will find the girl in that photo.”

Ding Jun and Fang Qing exchanged startled glances, their smiles fading. A man’s genuine feelings deserve respect. No matter how faint or unrealistic the hope, the courage to speak honestly proves he is a true man.

“Well said. For that alone, I think we should drink,” Fang Qing said.

Ruan Feng scratched his head, a little embarrassed. “Don’t laugh at me. I’ve never fallen in love at first sight before, but this time, I really have.”

Ding Jun cracked a bitter smile and snapped his fingers. “That’s a good thing. I wish you all the best.”

The power of love is indeed great—it could transform Ruan Feng, who once loved money above all else, into a romantic hero. Unfortunately, the girl’s appearance was as elusive as a daydream; finding her was harder than scaling the heavens.

“I heard familiar dripping sounds in that cave. If the girl is connected to the assassins from Gugu, then things are going to get very complicated,” Ding Jun muttered to himself.

“Who cares? Since I made this decision, life feels wide and boundless. How’s my cooking? Someday, when I have a family and kids, I can roast things for them every day. Hahaha… From now on, I should start saving money. I hear getting a wife and having children costs a fortune. Hahaha…” Ruan Feng laughed so hard he could barely close his mouth, happily chuckling to himself beside the barbecue grill.

“What do you think?” Fang Qing asked quietly.

“It all feels like a scene from an action movie—getting more chaotic and unbelievable by the minute,” Ding Jun replied.

He knew enough about Qinglong to judge easily: once the Heart of the Holy Infant gem appeared, Qinglong would fly to Tuolin Temple within forty-eight hours, going all out to seize it. Numerous past examples proved that anyone who tried to compete with Qinglong for anything would be utterly crushed.

“For some reason, being with you feels like having someone at my back. That feeling… it’s really good,” Fang Qing murmured.

Ding Jun smiled but said nothing. He felt the same, though he wasn’t as skilled in expressing his emotions as Fang Qing was.

Suddenly, a spark burst from the coals in the grill with a sharp crack, then instantly went dark. With no other light source around, they had been relying solely on the charcoal’s glow. Now, everything before their eyes plunged into darkness.

“What’s going on? Hey, what’s going on?” Ruan Feng shouted.

Once ignited, charcoal’s smoldering fire usually burns on and on; extinguishing it requires burying it completely in earth or water. No one had ever seen charcoal snuffed out in an instant like this.

“Don’t move. Everyone stay still—friends have arrived,” Ding Jun warned immediately.

He sensed a surge of murderous intent right across from Ruan Feng, separated only by the small barbecue grill.

“Don’t draw your guns. There’s no time.” He quickly restrained Fang Qing’s hands.

In a duel of masters, the slow one dies—that was the only truth in the arena. He feared Fang Qing might draw her gun, provoking an immediate kill from the intruder. To a true expert, firearms were mere toys; the entire process of pulling the trigger, firing, bullet leaving the barrel, and shooting was far too slow.

Authoritative tests showed that ordinary firearms took about 0.3 seconds to fire, while the fastest weapons took 0.1 seconds.

For supreme martial artists, a single move could kill instantly, without delay—the legendary “beyond-distance kill.” This meant transcending physical space, striking like lightning or at light speed.

Time dragged painfully in the dark until the charcoal in the grill flared up again, revealing an old man in a gray cotton robe sitting opposite them.

“Who’s there?” Ruan Feng jumped back in fright.

“I’m just a passerby, drawn here by your grilled squid. Mind if I join you for a meal?” the old man said slowly.

His robe hood covered his head, pressed low over his brows, revealing only eyes that glinted fiercely. Though thin, he stood a head taller than Ruan Feng, exuding a commanding presence that made sparks leap sideways from the charcoal.

Ruan Feng stepped back again, now beside Ding Jun.

“Brothers under the sky need not be so formal,” Ding Jun said first, raising his hands slightly to show he bore no weapons and no hostility, then slowly stood.

“You’re remarkably calm. Knowing I came with murderous intent and still having the courage to warn your companions, you’re not bad for a young man,” the old man said.

“You flatter me. Please, have a seat,” Ding Jun gestured to a vacant folding chair.

The old man strode over, slapped a gray animal-skin wine pouch onto the table, then sat down and pointed at the flask, “Drink.”

Without hesitation, Ding Jun removed the cork and took three long draughts.

“Will you drink?” the old man then asked Ruan Feng.

Ruan Feng smiled awkwardly and waved him off. “I don’t drink strong liquor, only beer. Feel free, I’ve got fish to grill!”

The old man sneered and then turned his gaze to Fang Qing. “How about you, young lady? Care to try some?”

Fang Qing smiled faintly. “The elixir you bring is crafted from the finest Tianshan snow lotus, glacier nectar, the blood of a spirit monkey from the depths of the Himalayas, and solid vodka from Russia. Its aroma is unique and rare, fit only for true heroes of the world to share. I’m but a humble girl, lacking in knowledge and taste. I’m unworthy of such a fine drink. Thank you for your kindness.”

The old man glared fiercely at her, then suddenly sighed to the sky. “Ah, young lady, though you are but a child, your discernment and intuition are truly first-rate. If you refuse to drink, this wine will surely lose its luster.”

Fang Qing shook her head again. “Sir, a fine sword is given to a warrior; a red rose to a beauty. Such treasures must be shared with kindred spirits to have meaning. I dare not presume to be your confidante. I know nothing of wine; please do not insist.”

The old man laughed coldly. “Flattering words rarely come from the virtuous. If you won’t drink, don’t blame me for forcing you to.”

Fang Qing’s expression changed; her hands fell silently to her waist.

“Don’t even think about drawing your gun. The young man already warned you. In martial arts, speed is invincible. Before your bullet leaves the barrel, my blade will have shredded you to pieces,” the old man sneered.

Ding Jun sighed softly. “You’re too arrogant, forgetting that in these wild hills, danger can strike at any time. I respect you only because you didn’t ambush us in the dark and showed mercy. For that reason, I too have shown restraint, not activating my trap when you insulted Miss Fang.”

The old man turned his gaze to Ding Jun.

“The four legs, armrests, seat cushion, and backrest of that chair all conceal exquisite steel traps, reinforced springs, and hardened steel teeth, making them lethally effective. The remote trigger is hidden at the side of the grill, unnoticed by anyone. You saw it—Ruan Feng declined the wine and moved close to the grill because he was ready,” Ding Jun smiled.

Ruan Feng froze; the trap mechanism embedded in the grill and folding chair was his greatest secret, one he believed flawless, capable of defeating any enemy, even Ding Jun and Fang Qing.

The old man lowered his head, nodded slowly. “Very well. I understand.”

Both he and Ding Jun were supreme masters, able to assess everything without a single movement, relying solely on their eyes.

“Now, your hand is played out, but I haven’t changed my mind. The wine must still be drunk,” he said with a cold laugh.

He showed no gratitude. Even knowing Ding Jun had yielded a step, his stubborn nature was rare indeed.

“It is the mark of a gentleman never to force a lady to drink,” Ding Jun smiled.

“With such fine wine, even if forced to drink, the young lady would surely accept gladly,” the old man said.

Ding Jun lifted his chin, his smile fading slowly. Then he lightly snapped his fingers and said deliberately, “I am her protector. As long as I remain, no one will force her to do anything.”

The atmosphere froze instantly. The two men, just three paces apart, locked eyes in a deadly standoff, a battle inevitable.

Suddenly, sparks burst continuously from the grill with crackling sounds. A gust of wind swept, blinding Ruan Feng. Flustered, he raised his hands to rub his eyes, missing the duel between Ding Jun and the old man in that instant. Fortunately, Fang Qing’s gaze never wavered from Ding Jun’s face, allowing her, the sole witness, to behold that lightning-fast, unfathomable battle unfold.

He is such a responsible man! She had been thinking quietly, feeling inexplicably joyful at Ding Jun’s unwavering protection.

He was not a cold-blooded, ruthless killer like the “Hunting King” her brother had described… nor like any man she had known before. She believed only the famous Japanese warlord Takeda Shingen from the Shogunate era could compare to him. The fourteen characters on the Takeda clan’s “Grandson’s Banner”—“Swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, immovable as a mountain”—perfectly described him.

Takeda Shingen’s “Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain” motto originated from the military classic “The Art of War” by Sun Wu in the late Spring and Autumn period of China. The original text reads: “Swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, immovable as a mountain; elusive as the shadow, sudden as thunder.”

Indeed, a solitary warrior like Ding Jun, who had undergone rigorous special operations training and boasted hundreds of real combat experiences, was rare to find an equal in this age.

Since ancient times, beauties have loved heroes. Fang Qing thought only naturally.

As she pondered this, she noticed Ding Jun’s thick brows twitch several times. He bit his lip lightly, a cold, dignified smirk of righteous disdain curling at the corners of his mouth. Then, in a flash, Ding Jun’s place was taken by the old man, while the old man sat where Ding Jun had been. They switched positions in the blink of an eye, clashing mid-move, and the outcome was decided instantly.