When Hēifēng’s laughter, laden with the stench of blood, crashed into Ye Fan’s eardrums, he was sweeping every inch of the backyard shadows with his Unity of Heaven and Man perception. Within his Inner World, the warmth and coolness of the Jiuxiao Huanpei rose from his dantian, allowing him to clearly catch the breathing frequencies of the men in black thirty paces away—three were holding their breath behind the pagoda tree to the front left with their lung lobes trembling, two were trembling as they rubbed iron chains near the firewood pile on the right, and he could even smell the odor of rust mixed with rotting flesh wafting from the arrow wound on Hēifēng’s chest.
"Young Master Ye, don't even think about escaping this time." Hēifēng twisted the corners of his mouth, his blood-stained teeth glowing a greenish-grey in the moonlight. Behind him, twenty-seven men in black took half a step forward in unison, dragging barbed iron chains across the ground with a harsh scraping sound. Bone-rotting poison dripped from the tips of the chains, eating small, hissing holes into the grey bricks.
Ye Fan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. When he was ambushed and killed in his past life, he had watched his enemies close in step by step in this exact manner; back then, he did not yet understand what it meant to "provide against a rainy day," knowing only how to stubbornly resist by relying on his Inquiry Realm cultivation. Now, as he gazed at the cold glint of Su Qingxue’s short flute at her finger…
Chapter 87