12. Who Are the Disguises?
1102 Words
The thought tempted him. Yet an open challenge risked drawing the attention of numerous martial experts far stronger than himself, men whose power could crush him if he acted recklessly.
“No … I must be cautious,” he muttered under his breath. “First, I need to gather information about them.”
Before he could move further, several masked men from his group rushed to his side. They had been dispatched earlier to investigate the chaos spreading through the Guo residence.
“Chief, it’s urgent!” one of them cried, bowing low.
Qing Yuan turned sharply. “Speak.”
The men knelt, their fists pressed to the ground in respect.
“Chief,” one reported breathlessly, “this is truly disastrous. The attackers weren’t the forces led by Commander Yang Shui. I fear… Commander Shui and his men may never even reach this place.”
“What?” Qing Yuan’s brows knit tightly beneath his mask. “Are you saying someone has intercepted them?”
The subordinate nodded uncertainly. “It seems so.”
“Damn it!” Qing Yuan clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. “Heaven forbid anything should happen to Brother Shui’s group.”
“Commander Shui is formidable,” the man reassured quickly, though his voice trembled. “I believe they will endure.”
Another messenger rushed forward, kneeling. “Chief, the masks worn by these imposters are not identical to ours, but they have left behind signs symbols of equinox flowers, scattered in several locations.”
“They even left traces resembling ours?” Qing Yuan spat, almost choking on his own rage. “How insane is this group, daring to impersonate us so thoroughly?”
“Not only that, Chief,” a third subordinate added, his voice shaken. “I witnessed someone dressed exactly like you, even mimicking your mannerisms and fighting style.”
“They disguised themselves as me?” Qing Yuan’s words came out as a low, dangerous growl.
The very air seemed to drop to freezing cold. His killing intent surged violently, and Yin energy from his bloodline swelled like a tide.
Murderous frost glittered in his eyes as he raised a single hand.
Duar!
Duar!
Duar!
Three thunderous strikes exploded outward, his punches blasting into the stone walls of Guo Jin’s residence. The once-sturdy walls shattered instantly, rubble scattering like deadly shrapnel.
His men scrambled frantically to dodge the flying debris. A heartbeat slower and they would have been crushed beneath the collapsing stone.
Even so, their bodies quaked with fear. They had followed Qing Yuan long enough to know—when their leader’s fury reached its peak, he was more terrifying than any demon.
“This impostor… this lunatic dares to mimic me?!” Qing Yuan’s voice roared like a storm. “Find him! Drag him to me, dead or alive! I will rip the skin from his face and craft a mask for my collection!”
“Understood, Chief!” his subordinates responded in unison before darting off into the shadows, vanishing like hunting wolves.
But before Qing Yuan could take a single breath, another trembling voice called out.
“Chief, it’s worse … the guests at the banquet, they’ve already identified us as the perpetrators of this m******e. What shall we do now?”
Qing Yuan froze, his thoughts spinning.
Every carefully laid plan for tonight had been dismantled. The impostors had not only stolen their image but also succeeded in making the Demon Mask Group the scapegoats.
“What … should we do?” he muttered, his steps slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance to the frightened subordinate.
Reaching out, he grasped the man’s chin, tilting his head up. His icy gaze bore into him like twin blades.
The masked subordinate trembled violently, cold sweat pouring down his back. His voice caught in his throat, too terrified to respond.
“Of course, we have to crush them all.” Qing Yuan’s voice was cold as his fingers released an icy touch from the subordinate’s chin.
Straightening his back, he stood tall and spoke with authority. “Act quickly. I want several of these impostors captured alive so that we can extract information from them.”
“Ready, Chief! I will take my leave now. Do not worry, Chief—we will definitely capture one.” The subordinate answered respectfully, then immediately hurried away from his master’s presence.
Qing Yuan then ordered the rest of his men to spread out and kill anyone impersonating members of the Demon Mask Group.
Now he was left alone, his mind set on finding his two main targets—Shen Ming and Yu Shan.
He walked slowly among the heaps of corpses, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked ground, while examining the masks that littered the floor. None of them matched those of his group.
Standing with his hands pressed against his hips, Qing Yuan stared down at the mangled bodies of his enemies.
“They truly intend to trap me and my group in their little game,” he whispered furiously. “Who are these people, raising a war flag against me? Do they believe they have nine lives to so boldly offend me?”
A dull ache stirred in his head. Troubles he had yet to resolve weighed heavily, and now, new burdens were crashing upon him without warning.
“Brother Shui and his troops were supposed to strike from this courtyard,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “But a group of madmen has already thrown all our plans into chaos!”
“Damn it! I’ve been tricked by strangers I don’t even know!” Rage surged in his veins, and with a violent kick, he struck the corpse lying before him. A pulse of internal force burst from his leg, hurling the masked body across the courtyard. It slammed into a wall with such power that the stone cracked and collapsed, leaving only shattered fragments behind.
Yet even that violent outburst did little to soothe the handsome young man’s fury.
Just as he prepared to release more of his frustration, Qing Yuan’s sharp ears caught a faint noise. It was the sound of another battle, echoing from a distant direction.
“There’s fighting … over there!” His instincts flared.
Listening carefully, he realized this clash was far more intense than the others raging throughout the Guo residence. The skies above the distant battleground pulsed with blinding flashes of light, and the booming roars of colliding energies shook the night.
It could only mean one thing: a high-level battle between martial experts.
But who were they?
- Writer
