Chapter 53: Kang Youwei Comes to the Rescue

Behind him, one of the henchmen saw that their boss had been captured and raised his gun at Zhou Yi. Zhou Yi pressed down with his foot, twisted his waist, and instantly switched places with Boss Liu. Yet the henchman had already fired, and the bullet struck Boss Liu squarely in the lung.

Zhou Yi did not inherently despise the underworld; in fact, he had a certain fondness for the bandits and outlaws of the northeast, for many of them refrained from robbing ordinary folk. But Boss Liu was different. First, he tried to have Zhou Yi shot to death, then seized the chance to kick him when he was down. Worst of all, his men had fired at Baozi behind his back.

Though Zhou Yi had only crossed paths with Boss Liu for a brief moment, his hatred for the man was bone-deep. He drew back the dagger at Boss Liu’s throat with a strong pull, severing his windpipe.

With a push to Boss Liu’s back, the man collapsed face-first to the ground, blood bubbling from his mouth, his body convulsing—clearly, he would not live much longer.

After killing Boss Liu, Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes and swept his gaze over the crowd of henchmen. His bare torso was streaked with blood—some his own, some from Boss Liu and Ji Liang—making him appear far more terrifying than any vengeful spirit Baozi might have summoned.

His narrowed, slender eyes alone exerted an immense pressure on these men, who were accustomed to bullying the innocent. Pressure is an intangible force; under it, even meek and timid souls may wield a blade and cut down dozens, while those who swagger and oppress might kneel and wail for mercy.

The henchmen were frozen, but Zhou Yi moved. Each swing of his bloodied dagger felled a man, leaving him twitching on the ground. In moments, more than ten lay scattered about—some with flayed flesh, others with slit throats.

Finally, the invisible pressure became unbearable. After a hysterical scream, one henchman bolted into the night. Where one fled, others followed; in the blink of an eye, the remaining dozen vanished without a trace.

Zhou Yi quickly caught up to one, raising his dagger to strike. The man's scream halted Zhou Yi’s motion for an instant. When he looked again, the henchman in his grasp was trembling violently, a faint smell of urine in the air—he had wet himself, terrified beyond measure.

Zhou Yi kicked the small-time thug in the abdomen and said coldly, “Get out!”

He didn’t wait for a reply, turning instead toward the group of soldiers.

The soldiers had long forgotten to fire their guns. In the era of the Republic, no army could be called truly regular; barracks overflowed with addicts, drunkards, and lechers.

Most of these soldiers, bodies hollowed by wine and vice, were now possessed by the spirits summoned by Baozi and had lost much of their fighting strength. Witnessing Zhou Yi’s ferocity firsthand, their will to resist had vanished entirely.

As Zhou Yi charged at them, their hands shook as they raised their guns. They had seen Boss Liu’s men fire at Zhou Yi, yet the hail of bullets had barely harmed him, only inviting deadly reprisal.

Just as Zhou Yi was about to unleash another slaughter, the sound of military whistles and beams from automobile headlights came from afar. The glare struck Zhou Yi’s eyes, restoring a hint of clarity to his mind, which had nearly lost all reason.

He remembered then that Baozi was still in danger and hurried to check on him.

“Baozi, don’t scare me. I’ll find you a doctor right away. Hold on!” Zhou Yi said, picking Baozi up to leave.

“Stop! Who is committing violence here?” A familiar voice called out, making Zhou Yi turn back, instinctively shielding his eyes from the dazzling headlights.

“He’s hurt. I need a doctor. Are you a doctor?” Zhou Yi’s voice was hoarse and devoid of emotion.

“Are you Zhou Yi?” The man stood with his back to the headlights and could see Zhou Yi’s face clearly, though Zhou Yi’s current appearance made him uncertain.

Eyes take time to adjust from darkness to strong light. As the man finished speaking, Zhou Yi recognized him.

A gray long robe, a handlebar mustache, a round cap atop his head—the man was Kang Youwei. Upon seeing Kang Youwei, Zhou Yi felt a weight lift from his heart. He hurried over and said, “Save him—gunshot wound.”

Now was not the time for pleasantries. Zhou Yi spoke with a raspy voice.

“Quickly, bring him to my car. I’ll take you to the hospital,” Kang Youwei said, now certain of Zhou Yi’s identity.

Zhou Yi carried Baozi to the car’s backseat, and they sped off toward the hospital. Through the rear window, Zhou Yi saw the officer carrying Ji Liang onto a military vehicle heading in the opposite direction.

After the two groups had departed, Mu Chen stepped out from the shadows with a grimace, recalling Zhou Yi’s murderous demeanor and shuddering. He couldn’t imagine what might have happened to him had Zhou Yi unleashed such wrath upon him.

A wail came from the corner—Xunfeng’s whimper broke Mu Chen’s train of thought.

“Hey, why didn’t you leave?” Mu Chen asked Xunfeng.

Xunfeng, of course, didn’t answer, letting out another mournful whine.

“Your master doesn’t want you anymore. Come with me,” Mu Chen said, reaching out to stroke Xunfeng’s head.

Xunfeng’s eyes flew open, staring fiercely at Mu Chen, baring his teeth in warning.

Seeing this, Mu Chen quickly withdrew his hand. He had witnessed Xunfeng’s prowess—despite being surrounded by dozens of soldiers, the creature had not only evaded capture but wounded several in the process.

“Come with me. I’ll help you find your master,” Mu Chen said, rising and heading toward where the car had driven off.

Xunfeng shook himself, dusting off the grime, and followed Mu Chen, though his steps were unsteady and his expression weary.

At the hour of the rooster’s crow, Mu Chen arrived at the hospital with Xunfeng, finding Zhou Yi seated beside Baozi’s bed. The bloodshot eyes and sparse beard beneath his chin revealed Zhou Yi had not slept a wink all night.

“You left him behind,” Mu Chen said to Zhou Yi.

At the sight of Mu Chen, Zhou Yi’s eyes blazed with fury. He sprang up from his chair and threw a punch at Mu Chen.

Mu Chen hadn’t expected Zhou Yi to hit him on sight and failed to dodge. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, and he spat out a tooth.

“All because you, damn priest, blocked my way. I’ll kill you,” Zhou Yi shouted, lunging at Mu Chen again.

“Don’t hit me, don’t hit me—aye, not the face!” Mu Chen, for reasons unknown, neither dodged nor defended, merely covered his head and let Zhou Yi’s fists rain down.

Kang Youwei had been standing guard outside the ward. Hearing the commotion, he rushed in and pulled the two apart.

“Zhou Yi, this is a hospital. Don’t disturb your friend,” Kang Youwei said, frowning.

Zhou Yi glanced at Baozi, who lay in bed, and nodded slightly.

Then he turned to Mu Chen and said, “If anything happens to him, I’ll make you pay with your life. I mean what I say.”

“Alright, get some rest. This hospital is run by Russians; it’ll be fine,” Kang Youwei reassured him.

Baozi, lying in bed, heard the disturbance and coughed lightly. The cough clearly aggravated his wound, and his brows furrowed deeply.