Volume One, Chapter Twenty-Seven: Let Go of Your Hand.

Jiang Chen was utterly stunned. He thought to himself, surely there couldn’t be this many fools in the big city. How could someone record their own crime as evidence? Then, on second thought, he realized: Ye Qingming never expected him to survive, and from the man's practiced manner, he'd clearly done this sort of thing more than once.

Ning Rou was banging frantically on the car window, producing dull thuds. Jiang Chen was moved—what more could a man ask for than a wife like this?

The man rolled up his sleeves. "Any last words? If not, I’m getting started." Jiang Chen sighed, "Did your young master say anything besides wanting to torture me?" The man paused, trying to recall, "He also said to bring back your head." Jiang Chen nodded with understanding. "Alright, that's thorough. No wonder the great clans have such elaborate methods for tormenting people."

As soon as he finished speaking, the man made no further small talk. His aura surged like a rainbow, and Ning Rou saw only a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch, her heart sinking to the bottom.

But the next second, the scream she expected never came. Instead, Jiang Chen caught the man’s massive fist with effortless ease, holding it perfectly still as if time had frozen. Veins bulged on the man's face as he swung his left fist. Jiang Chen intercepted it with two fingers, then flicked at the man's knuckles.

A crisp crack sounded. The man's left hand immediately drooped, as if his joints had snapped. "Impossible! You’re no ordinary man!" The assassin broke out in cold sweat, retreating.

But Jiang Chen had already resolved to kill. There would be no letting up.

The first time Jiang Chen had come to Qing City, he’d encountered troublemakers but had chosen not to stoop to their level. Taoists value peace of mind, first calming themselves in the face of trouble, then deciding whether the matter is worth fighting over.

But Jiang Chen only stuck to this philosophy for a while. He found that after he became less passionate and more reserved, some people just got bolder, unaware of their own limits—just like right now.

The noble families of Qing City had no idea whom they were provoking, or what weight the title "King of the Underworld" truly carried.

Even if Jiang Chen chose not to handle this himself, if the Hall of the Underworld learned that anyone dared attack him, the matter would escalate from a national affair to an international incident. When Jiang Chen was ambushed in the Island Nation, the Fujita clan was the mastermind. The very next day, an international bounty was issued: exterminate the Fujita clan and its nine kin. To exterminate nine kin meant implicating anyone related by blood or marriage; to exterminate ten kin was even harsher—anyone affiliated, even those who exchanged a word, would be wiped out.

And thus, the Fujita clan vanished from history.

So, Ye Qingming was laughable. He didn't even realize that the moment he made his decision, his life had already entered its final countdown.

Jiang Chen stepped forward. The man launched a kick, but Jiang Chen shattered it with a single punch. Blood splattered across the ground. With a casual gesture, Jiang Chen used the Golden Light Incantation to block the blood and said, "It's been a long time since anyone told me they wanted my life. Since I came to Qing City, you’re the first."

The man had always succeeded in his assassinations and tortures, so much so that he no longer bothered to test if his targets were ordinary people—he simply acted. Now, crawling on the ground, he tried to put distance between himself and Jiang Chen, but with both legs broken and only one functioning hand, all his struggles were nothing more than a dying gasp.

Jiang Chen said, "Though you said you’d torture me, don’t worry, I won’t torture you. After all, you’re just doing a job for money." He paused, then added, "However, you must die. That’s my rule—no exceptions."

Terror filled the man's eyes. He had thought himself inured to life and death, but when death stared him in the face, he was still afraid.

Jiang Chen bent down and gently tapped the center of the man's forehead. The man's pupils dilated, his life ebbing away.

With a dull thud, the man collapsed, his eyes hollow, a chill of death spreading through his body.

Jiang Chen softly recited, "Samadhi True Fire consumes the remaining life; the soul crosses the underworld, leaving no name behind." At that, a flame burst forth from his hand, and with a flick of his finger, the fire leapt onto the man's body, as if it had legs of its own. In seconds, the corpse vanished, not even a trace of ash remaining.

Jiang Chen dusted off his hands, opened the car door, and climbed in. At this, Ning Rou turned her head, her eyes wide with disbelief, at a loss for words.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as tears rolled down her cheeks like pearls. At first, she’d thought Jiang Chen was just a petty thug, interested in her only for her looks. But the deeper she got, the more mysterious he became—not only could he exorcise evil and save lives, but he could survive explosions, catch criminals, and now, his value and his martial prowess were both extraordinary.

She truly didn’t know how many more secrets this man held.

Jiang Chen noticed her silence and sensed the awkwardness in the air. So he said, "Pretty impressive, right? Don’t you think marrying me was a good deal?"

He wasn’t particularly skilled at comforting women, but his master had once told him: If a girl doesn’t dislike you and is willing to talk, and if she cries in front of you, it means she’s willing to show you her vulnerable side. In that moment, don’t just stand there like a block of wood—hold her, and half your troubles will be solved.

Recalling his master’s words, Jiang Chen reached out with his left arm and put it around Ning Rou’s shoulders. Seeing no objection from her, he simply scooped her from the driver’s seat into the passenger seat.

At this, Ning Rou could no longer contain herself and burst into tears.

Even Jiang Chen, usually so reserved, felt a pang of heartache at the sight.

Ning Rou curled up in Jiang Chen’s arms, her long legs cradled in his large hands. As she cried, she pounded her fists against his chest, hitting him several times.

Jiang Chen knew he ought to say something, or Ning Rou would just keep crying. Seizing the moment as she hit him, he feigned a few coughs. Ning Rou panicked, thinking she’d hurt him.

He took the chance and said, "Beautiful, are you feeling better now?"

Ning Rou turned away. "Better? Why would I be angry with you?"

Jiang Chen replied seriously, "I didn't mean to keep things from you—it's just, you wouldn't have believed me if I'd told you before. But now you do, don't you?"

Ning Rou, her tears nearly spent, replied anxiously, "Believe you? You scared me to death, do you even realize how dangerous that was?"

Jiang Chen stroked her hair. "I know, I know. Next time, I’ll listen to my wife, alright?"

Ning Rou tried to break free, but his large hands held her fast.

"Let go of me," Ning Rou said, embarrassed.

"I have," Jiang Chen replied innocently. Ning Rou grew even more exasperated, especially as his hands kept caressing her legs, making her cheeks burn.

"Take your hands off me!"