Chapter Twenty: Iron Hand

Outside the Tianbao Pavilion, traffic remained dense, neon lights flickered, and crowds bustled along the street. The guests who had escaped from the underground auction found the familiar scene almost moving enough to bring them to tears. Eagerly, they rushed toward the exit, desperate to flee that hellish place.

Suddenly, a burly figure blocked the doorway. With a swift motion, he grabbed the two people at the front as effortlessly as picking up chicks. "Ding Zhenbang, Li Jie—what are you doing here? What happened inside?" His voice was deep and commanding.

Li Jie, feet dangling above the ground, swallowed the curses he was about to utter as soon as he recognized the man, his face turning ashen. The man before him had a square jaw, thick brows, and piercing eyes; he was none other than Bao Long, the renowned Iron Hand Chief Inspector of the Six Gates Bureau. Famous for his hatred of evil and unwavering integrity, Bao Long had never cared about the background of those he investigated, sending an entire province’s top officials and hundreds more to prison.

"Ch-Chief Inspector Bao, we..." Li Jie stammered, his gaze evasive.

Bao Long instantly realized that whatever had happened inside was far from legal. He had no patience for such rotten apples; he threw the two men to the ground and barked at the approaching chief: "Keep everyone here—don’t let a single one escape!"

Even before the words faded, he strode into the Tianbao Pavilion’s interior. Several young guests, faces flushed with anger, shouted, "My father is the deputy mayor!" and, "I'm from the Liu family in Shanghai—let us through!"

For those who had narrowly escaped, nothing mattered more than leaving this place behind. But Bao Long ignored their pleas, heading straight for the underground auction. He hurried down the carpeted stairs and pushed open a half-closed door.

Inside, intermittent sobbing could be heard, and the air was thick with the scent of blood. Bao Long entered the auction hall, his pupils contracting at the sight before him.

A massive hole connected the first floor with the underground auction area, and the light from above spilled through, barely illuminating the shattered hall. In the front row, a distinct, oversized handprint stood out, while surrounding seats had been upturned by the shockwave, blood and flesh mingling in a scene too horrific to bear. In the aisle, some guests who had collapsed from fear were wailing uncontrollably.

Bao Long clenched his fists, his wary gaze sweeping the area, ready for any attack from the shadows. He carried no sword at his waist, which was not unusual.

In the Summer Kingdom, not everyone possessed a famed sword. Each public Spirit Arts Academy gifted students a famed sword upon admission, but if the student failed to nurture a sword spirit within a year or two, the sword would be reclaimed. Only those with the right soul aptitude could foster a sword spirit, learn its name, and unlock the sword’s true power.

For those unable to claim a famed sword, there were alternative paths—such as martial arts. Bao Long was known as Iron Hand precisely because of his formidable fist techniques.

He leapt onto the auction stage, scanning the scene. Judging by the evidence, a fierce battle had recently taken place here. He could sense lingering pressure from an eighth-tier spirit master, but the countering spiritual force had vanished without a trace.

Bao Long narrowed his eyes, leaping to a guest sitting on the floor and lifting him with one hand. "Speak—why were you all here?"

The guest trembled, stammering, "I-I just came at my father’s request, to buy some items related to cultivation."

Bao Long understood at once. Tianbao Pavilion had clearly held an illegal underground auction. If the event were legitimate, Li Jie and others wouldn’t have masked their identities, nor would they react to Bao Long as if seeing a ghost.

"What happened here?" Bao Long pressed.

"The last item—a dragon-shaped specimen—lost control and suddenly unleashed a semi-transparent golden phantom. Even the temple guardian, Wang Meng, was killed in a single blow, and then the dragon form vanished."

"Vanished?" Bao Long muttered, releasing the guest and surveying the area.

He moved quickly to a headless corpse—the victim’s death differed from the others. Most had been struck by the wide-area attack of a half-demon, but this one seemed the result of a precise hit.

There was still no trace of spiritual force left behind.

Was this person responsible for taking the half-demon away? What was the relationship between them? Who was the deceased?

Bao Long crouched, searching the corpse’s clothes, and found a Six Gates Bureau inspector’s badge.

"Yang Long," he murmured the name.

"Chief Inspector Bao, did the culprit escape?"

A gentle voice came from the doorway. Bao Long turned to see Luo Lingxi, dressed in a purple uniform, striding in. Her heavy curves moved with remarkable steadiness, not wavering in the slightest.

"Luo Immortal," Bao Long said gravely, "this is a thorny case—there’s not a trace of spiritual force left at the scene. It appears a formidable figure has arrived in Shanghai, possibly with a vendetta against our inspector Yang Long. My plan is to investigate the backgrounds of Yang Long and Tianbao Pavilion, as well as to clarify the appearance of the half-demon. Tianbao Pavilion should have backup records of the transactions."

As he spoke, his logic grew clearer, and he wasted no further time on pleasantries, heading out to find the person in charge.

...

Soft moonlight bathed the courtyard of Azure Cloud Gate, the flagstones shimmering with a silvery glow like flowing mercury. The hall’s lights spilled out through the windows, adding warmth to the garden.

A young girl lay on her back in the hall, her vivid red hair falling away from her face to reveal features as delicate as a painting. Her nose was small and upturned, her lips carried the faint pink of cherry blossoms, and her forehead was adorned with two raised flesh horns, lending her an exotic allure. Her thin shirt rose and fell with her breath, outlining graceful curves.

After a moment, her eyelids trembled, then slowly opened, her pupils black as ink and filled with confusion.

"You’re awake," came a deep male voice.

Startled, the girl flipped upright in a swift, fluid motion. Her eyes flashed with bewilderment as memories surged back—she recalled standing atop Tianbao Pavilion’s platform, unleashing carnage, then a surge of pain that had stolen her consciousness.

Her gaze sharpened like a blade, locking onto the man before her.

He was handsome, clad in sky-blue robes, his sleeves flowing, with an ordinary sword at his waist.

"I want to talk with you," Bai Yujing said calmly. "But judging from your expression, that won’t be possible. In that case, we’ll have to fight first."

"You're too arrogant," the girl replied, her voice colder than ice.

Her pupils spun rapidly, blood-red mandala patterns blooming within the darkness. Her spiritual pressure surged, filling the air with suffocating oppression.

Patches of blue dragon scales appeared on her fair cheeks, gleaming with metallic luster, and the pairs of flesh horns on her forehead grew, revealing the majesty of true dragon horns.

"You missed your only chance to defeat me by not striking while I was off guard," she said coldly. "Now, I will not expose a single weakness to you!"