Chapter Fifty-Seven: Two Mad Dogs and a Wild Boar

“Hey, girl, take off that cloak. With a figure like yours, your face can’t be that bad, right? Let me have a look. If I’m satisfied, I’ll make you my nineteenth concubine. How about it?” The words dripped with sleaze, coming from the mouth of a portly, greasy young man—clearly the scion of a wealthy household, a notorious wastrel.

Cang Ling’s expression was hidden beneath her cloak, invisible to the crowd. Had they seen it, a chill would have run through them. It was the look one might give a corpse—neither sorrowful nor joyful, utterly devoid of life.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or are you mute?” The fat young man frowned and slowly reached toward Cang Ling, intent on pulling back her hood.

“Move your hand another half inch, and you’ll leave it behind,” Hu Mo said, his voice calm as still water, his gaze fixed on the fat man as if he were already dead.

The fat man paused, his expression shifting slightly. He glanced up, and after a moment, burst out laughing. “Well, well, if it isn’t the eldest son of the Hu family. I heard you’re often possessed and locked away at home. What, that old man of yours still dares let you out?”

He withdrew his hand. Compared to Cang Ling, he found it far more enjoyable to ridicule Hu Mo.

Hu Mo considered the dossiers in his mind on the men before him; a flicker of anger twisted his otherwise cold features. These three were the grandsons of Xu Shizhong, a venerable minister who had served three emperors—scoundrels of the same ilk as himself.

Though the Xu family wasn’t a preeminent clan in Fireflame City, Xu Shizhong’s standing alone made them impossible to ignore. Remaining politically neutral and loyal only to the royal family, the Xus had earned the emperor’s protection. Their existence provided a check against the city’s other great houses.

As a result, the Xu descendants swaggered through the city, arrogant beyond compare. These three were Xu Shizhong’s grandsons: Xu Bao, Xu Chun, and Xu Zhu, the eldest of whom—Xu Zhu—had spoken. He was notorious for his lechery, greed, and cruelty; whenever he had clashed with Hu Mo in the past, he’d bullied him mercilessly, showing not the slightest courtesy to the Hu family.

Hu Yihu had never interfered in these matters, secretly hoping Hu Mo would suffer a few setbacks and learn a lesson—as long as he wasn’t crippled or killed, he let them do as they pleased.

Now, fate had thrown them together again. From the perspective of this body’s previous owner, it was an encounter with a mortal enemy—one that could only be settled with blood. But from Hu Mo’s current vantage, it was a matter of public decency; their repulsive faces alone warranted a thorough beating. More than that, though, was a murderous rage swelling in his chest at the memory of their words to Cang Ling.

“I’ve heard a thing or two myself,” Hu Mo said, grinning. “The Xu family keeps three mad dogs, always biting people. Can’t imagine why they don’t keep them on a leash, letting them run wild biting and barking everywhere. Oh, wait—I misspoke. Not three mad dogs—two mad dogs and one mad pig. After all, no dog is that fat.”

His words ignored the contorted faces of Xu Zhu and his cousins, but they sent ripples of laughter through the crowd. Suddenly, people realized that ever since his so-called possession, Hu Mo’s wit and intelligence seemed to have soared—he was fast becoming an object of admiration.

“You—you filthy liar, who are you calling mad dogs and a mad pig?!” Xu Bao was the first to shout. On any other day, they might have ordered their followers to attack by now, at the very least to give Hu Mo a taste of pain.

But today, for reasons they couldn’t explain, they found themselves unable to utter such commands. Hu Mo’s gaze seemed to constrict their throats, making it hard to breathe. They were at a complete loss.

“Whoever admits it, that’s who I’m talking about. Since you’re so eager to claim the title, I bestow it upon you: mad pig and mad dogs. Really, it’s unbecoming for a mad pig to stand so close to a beautiful woman,” Hu Mo said with a broad, white-toothed smile.

A shrill cry rang out as Xu Zhu’s body flew through the air, tracing a perfect arc before crashing to the ground. Hu Mo stood before Cang Ling, one leg still extended from his kick. He casually brushed dust from his trousers and lowered his leg.

“Oops, sorry, that was a bit forceful. Please forgive me,” Hu Mo said brightly, looking at Xu Zhu’s now-unconscious form.

Xu Bao and Xu Chun’s faces changed instantly. The brother they always relied on had been sent flying with a single kick—how could either of them hope to withstand even half a blow from Hu Mo?

They crouched next to Xu Zhu, looking like two aggrieved housewives, terrified that Hu Mo might suddenly attack them as well. In their minds, that outcome seemed all too likely.

But their fear didn’t last long. They soon realized Hu Mo hadn’t brought any attendants. Surrounded as they were by more than a dozen bodyguards, their confidence quickly swelled.

They couldn’t help but wonder if Hu Mo was truly possessed—what other reason could there be for such irrational, self-destructive behavior?

“Zhang Wei, seize that brat!” Xu Bao barked, regaining his bravado now that the balance of power was clear.

“Yes, sir!” Zhang Wei replied, his voice ringing out. He had done this sort of thing many times before, and at Xu Bao’s command he immediately led the guards to block every possible escape route for Hu Mo.

Zhang Wei, captain of the guards, was a fourth-level Furious Warrior, still not yet thirty—a level of talent considered rare among commoners.

Hu Mo narrowed his eyes, letting the dozen or so men encircle him. In everyone’s mind, Hu Mo and Cang Ling were nothing but lambs awaiting slaughter; surrounded by so many fighters, what hope did they have?

For a brief moment, even the onlookers felt a twinge of sympathy for Hu Mo. In this affair, he’d played the hero’s part, and for a moment, people forgot his previous reputation and rooted for him instead.

“Master Hu, forgive us. Please, like before, don’t resist, and spare us the trouble,” Zhang Wei said with a broad grin, unconcerned by the prospect of violence.

Though Hu Mo had shown surprising strength earlier, Zhang Wei was convinced he could handle him alone. Sending in all these guards was a needless extravagance.

Hu Mo waved a hand with a helpless shake of his head. “You’re sure you don’t want me to resist? Worried you’ll get hurt if I do?”

Hu Mo’s composure drew silent praise from the onlookers—he’d already become a hero in their eyes, standing up so bravely against oppression.

Zhang Wei’s face flickered, then twisted in a sneer. “Master Hu, you jest—but I’m afraid your joke falls flat. Since you’re so eager to suffer, allow me to oblige.”

With a shout, Zhang Wei smashed his fist into the ground, sending a surge of power racing toward Hu Mo and Cang Ling, unstoppable and fierce.

Cang Ling slipped a little hand into her cloak, stifling a yawn and mumbling, “Don’t take too long. You promised to take me out for some fun—don’t waste time.”

With that, she began to walk away. Several guards had already blocked her path, determined to prevent her escape.

Cang Ling, however, seemed not to see them at all. She strode directly toward them, and the guards, seeing her approach, grew giddy with excitement. One even spread his arms, ready to sweep her up.

But as they lunged, eager to grab her, the beauty before them vanished. Only Hu Mo noticed Cang Ling’s slender figure now perched atop a nearby rooftop, nibbling on a candied hawthorn, utterly at ease.

Hu Mo shook his head, then slid a yard or two to the side, appearing beside a guard. With clawed hands, he plucked the man up as if uprooting a scallion and flung him at Zhang Wei.

Where Hu Mo had been standing, a massive crater gaped in the earth. Fortunately, Zhang Wei’s attack had been meant to trap, not kill—had he chosen otherwise, a barrage of earth spikes would have been lethal.

Zhang Wei, an earth-element warrior, favored grand, sweeping attacks that seemed to shake the world itself. His power manipulated the ground, controlling the earth’s strength—impressive enough to leave an impression.

With a wave of his left hand, Zhang Wei caught the airborne guard with a gentle force and set him safely down. This battle held no suspense for him; in his mind, Hu Mo would be defeated within a few breaths.

That notion was quickly dispelled. When he saw all his guards flying toward him like thrown volleyballs, Zhang Wei’s expression changed dramatically.

Single-handedly dispatching so many guards—all at least the rank of Berserker—in the blink of an eye… Such strength was extraordinary, far beyond his own. For a fourth-level Furious Warrior, failing to recognize that would be fatal.

Ignoring the guards tumbling through the air, Zhang Wei charged straight at Hu Mo. The dignity of a Furious Warrior was not to be mocked. No matter the odds, especially in a martial realm like the Empire of Skyfire, to retreat would mean a lifetime of derision. Compared with that, his life seemed a small price to pay.

Hu Mo was moved by Zhang Wei’s reckless courage, but in his heart he still cursed him for a fool; even if Zhang Wei understood the meaning of ‘a mantis trying to stop a chariot,’ he needn’t demonstrate it with his life.

With a sigh, Hu Mo was just about to step forward when suddenly, a fierce, icy aura closed in from all directions. A familiar voice sounded in his ear: “Ice Bind!”