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The night was thick like ink.

A mix of pungent blood and smoke filled the air on Taikang Road.

Fang Qingyu hovered several meters above the ground.

Star Point Tribulation Crystals flowed around him with a dim gleam.

His deep starry eyes gazed at the distant district rapidly swallowed by darkness.

Those four shadowy gray figures were the very Divine Bone Martial Saints he had subdued before.

Yet now they erupted with a frightening speed far surpassing that of the previous battle.

Transforming into four streams of light tearing through the air.

They vanished at the end of the street in just the blink of an eye, melting into the boundless dark depths of the city.

Fang Qingyu did not pursue.

Because it was all too sudden.

When his men were near death, those four suddenly turned tail and fled.

And they seemed to possess a special escape skill.

Their speed was extremely fast, and before he could react, he couldn’t catch up.

Watching their backs, Fang Qingyu frowned slightly.

The unsettling feeling entwined around his heart like vines, tightening ever more.

This battle was won too easily.

Those four Divine Bone Martial Saints emitted an aura akin to Shi Hao’s, heavily laden with the scent of Divine Bone and Divine Blood.

However, the combat prowess they exhibited.

Compared to Shi Hao, who fiercely fought invincibly on the stage against Shenxiao, was noticeably inferior.

Whether in Power’s outburst, Divine Blood’s application, or that death-defying ferocity, they appeared... somewhat perfunctory.

Of course.

What was also unusual were the corpses of more than a hundred Celestial Punishment Association members below.

They did indeed charge fearlessly as the intel suggested.

Relentlessly rushing forward.

Yet Fang Qingyu felt none of these people gave it their all.

As if puppets forcibly coerced.

Executing orders of assault and death.

Not truly engaged in mortal combat.

And those four Divine Bone Martial Saints didn’t seem to care about the lives of their subordinates at all.

Never issuing a retreat command from start to finish.

Instead, they suddenly retreated only when their men were nearly depleted.

The entire process appeared...

Strange.

It looked as if these four brought a group.

Intentionally for him to kill.

Not like a siege targeting him, Fang Qingyu.

More like a... sacrifice?

Using over a hundred lives and the four Divine Bone Martial Saints’ disgrace to enact a performance?

What was the purpose?

Fang Qingyu’s gaze slowly swept over the chaotic street below.

Bodies lay in heaps, severed limbs scattered, thick blood flowed freely on the broken road.

The Low Tier members of the Cyan Dragon Gang who had rushed over were suppressing their discomfort, efficiently clearing the battlefield, dragging away the corpses in black robes, washing the blood from the ground.

The air carried a sweet, rank stench mixed with a strong scent of rust.

Forming a suffocatingly bizarre atmosphere.

"Fang... Captain Fang!"

A voice filled with awe and post-crisis excitement came from behind.

Fang Qingyu collected his thoughts, his figure slowly descended from the sky.

The Star Point Tribulation Crystal and the enfolding Green Lotus Force silently dissipated.

His starry eyes returned to a deep calm.

He turned around.

The old leader of the Desolate Bone Corps, supported by two Tier Three Martial Saints.

Hobbled forward.

The wound at his severed arm was roughly bandaged, but blood still steadily seeped, staining the bandage red.

On that wrinkled, bloodied old face.

Was now filled with tearful gratitude, his murky old eyes even somewhat moist.

"Captain Fang, no words can express my thanks! If it weren’t for your righteous intervention tonight, our Desolate Bone Corps’ last ember... would have been snuffed out here! Us old men... I..."

He seemed too agitated for coherent speech, attempting to bow in thanks.

Fang Qingyu raised a hand slightly to stop him, his gaze sweeping calmly over the bedraggled, injured remnants of the Desolate Bone Corps behind, around forty people.

Their faces were a blend of sorrow, fear.

And deep reverence for the "Thunder God" before them.

"Just lending a hand." Fang Qingyu’s voice was steady, his gaze circled the crowd, finally returning to the old leader’s face, and directly asked, "Old Captain, where is your corps leader?"

The air suddenly froze.

The old leader’s excitement and gratitude receded like a tide.

Replaced by deep sorrow and despair.

Those remaining soldiers behind him all lowered their heads.

Some couldn’t suppress low sobs.

"He..." The old leader’s voice choked, his frail body slightly trembling, "He stayed behind to cover our retreat... holding off four Peak Martial Saints alone."

He didn’t continue, but the outcome was clear.

The third-ranked Peak Martial Saint in the City of Injustice.

Facing four Divine Bone Martial Saints no weaker than Shi Hao?

Only two possible outcomes.

Killed on site, or captured alive.

Either spelled ill for this current leader’s fate.

"Condolences."

Fang Qingyu stayed silent for a moment, uttering only two words.

His gaze lingered on the heartbroken face of the old leader for a brief second.

The fleeting complex emotion in those eyes’ depths.

Was it guilt? Relief? Or something else?

Did not escape Fang Qingyu’s notice.

This old thing... there’s more to it.

Fang Qingyu withheld further words, directly taking out his phone and dialing a number.

"Hello?"

A slightly lazy and somewhat impatient female voice came from the other end.

"It’s me." Fang Qingyu stated succinctly, "Bring some people, come to Taikang Road, pick up some people."

"Tsk, Captain Fang, in the dead of night, I was just about to get some beauty sleep..."

Yan Lin’s voice carried a teasing tone, but there was little true resistance in it.

"Immediately."

Fang Qingyu interrupted her, his tone allowing no refusal.

"...Wait for it."