Two Hundred Million in Bodyguard Fees

The night was dark and the wind howled—a perfect time for killing.

The street near the herbal market was unusually deserted tonight, devoid of any human presence. The flickering dim glow of the streetlights cast an eerie atmosphere.

"Boss, how many people do you think are watching us right now?"

The mixed-race beauty clung to Boss Nie's arm, her lips curling into a seductive smile.

Boss Nie draped his hand over her delicate shoulder and replied, "Hard to say. Seems we’ve touched something we shouldn’t have."

The mixed-race beauty covered her mouth with a laugh. "In the Southeast Province, is there anything Boss Nie wouldn’t dare touch?"

"Can’t be too sure."

As he spoke, a dart materialized in Boss Nie’s hand and shot straight through the throat of a martial artist lurking in the shadows ahead.

Thud!

The martial artist collapsed to the ground.

It seemed to be a signal. Like a sudden downpour, figures hidden in the darkness emerged from all directions.

"Nie Chengwen, hand over the Nine Dragon Slaying Swords!"

A half-bald elder with graying hair stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His palms were noticeably larger than an average person’s, a clear sign that his martial prowess lay in his hands.

"Surrender it, and we’ll spare your life!"

A yellow-robed beauty from the Joyful Union Sect stepped forward, gripping a longsword.

Nie Chengwen swept his gaze over the crowd and smirked. "Who would’ve thought? Nie Chengwen, a mere merchant, would one day be surrounded by so many martial elites!"

"Enough talk! There’s just the two of you today—no way you’re escaping! Amitabha!"

A monk stepped forward, his voice booming.

Another monk followed suit, shouting, "Damn right! Hand it over or we’ll kill you! Mercy be upon us!"

The crowd:

"They’re here to assassinate!"

"They’re just thugs looking to rob and kill!"

"These bald monks are practically announcing it over loudspeakers!"

Zhang Fan, his hood pulled low, leaned against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other tossing a dagger. His eyes gleamed with malice.

Chaos was his favorite playground.

No one dared make the first move.

Reputation was everything.

Nie Chengwen was a heavyweight in the Southeast Province—a man of mysterious background, formidable influence, and a martial artist himself. No one underestimated him.

And the mixed-race beauty by his side? She was no pushover either.

At this moment, a faint smirk tugged at Boss Nie’s lips. The plan had unfolded a bit earlier than expected, but showing his hand wasn’t a bad thing.

Otherwise, people might keep thinking he was easy prey.

Just then, a surge of powerful energy erupted!

The monk standing by the roadside was struck head-on.

"Ah, damn it!"

Caught off guard, the monk was sent sprawling to the ground by the force.

Then, a figure lunged forward like lightning!

A flurry of punches and kicks rained down on the fallen monk.

Fists became a blur!

The monk was battered like a ragdoll in a storm.

Everyone stared in shock at the young man in a suit who had suddenly charged in.

What the hell was this guy’s deal?

And to make it worse—he flipped the monk over mid-beating to pummel his backside?

"Call me impotent, will you?!"

"Say I live off women, huh?!"

"Take this—!"

The young man cursing and thrashing the monk was none other than An Yi.

"Ah Hu!"

The other monk, seeing his brother getting beaten, snapped out of his daze and rushed forward.

"Ah, right. Almost forgot about you!"

An Yi grinned darkly, conjuring an air blade in his hand and slashing it down on the monk.

Clang!

The blade struck, but the impact sounded like metal hitting metal.

An Yi blinked in surprise, but it didn’t slow him down.

While the monk was busy blocking the air blade, An Yi spun with fluid grace, appearing behind him in an instant.

"Flash Fist!"

Thud!

The monk, caught off guard, was swept off his feet by a swift leg strike.

An Yi’s fists hammered down like hail.

With just himself, An Yi had stolen the spotlight from everyone else.

Boss Nie frowned.

At the height of tension, this kid barged in just to beat people up?

Why now of all times?!

After taking down the two monks, An Yi exhaled in relief, feeling refreshed.

On his Tyrant mission log, the counter now read: 2/10 completed.

Good. Just eight more to go.

Stretching his arms, An Yi turned to Boss Nie. "Old man, you’re in deep trouble. Need a bodyguard?"

Boss Nie saw right through him. With a chuckle, he retracted the dart in his hand. "What’s your rate?"

"Two hundred million!"

An Yi grinned. "Two hundred mil to keep you safe. Not a bad deal, right?"

Boss Nie replied coolly, "Money isn’t an issue."

An Yi’s smile widened.

The Tyrant mission required defeating eight qualified martial artists.

He’d been struggling to find enough targets, and now Boss Nie was surrounded by a crowd of them.

Not only could he extort protection money, but he could also complete his mission—two birds with one stone!

"Kid, stay out of this! Do you even know who you’re dealing with?"

Fu Changchun, leader of the Raging Waves Palm Sect, glared coldly.

An Yi replied flatly, "I only know my employer’s paying me two hundred mil."

"Enough talk! Who does this brat think he is?!"

A burly man, hot-tempered, swung his fist straight at An Yi’s head, aiming to kill.

An Yi didn’t hold back either.

With a flick of his wrist, an air blade slashed through the man’s abdomen.

Splat!

Blood sprayed as the man collapsed, grievously wounded.

The crowd gasped.

That man had been a Mingjin-level martial artist—yet he was taken down in one move!

Fu Changchun narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

An Yi drew a black combat dagger from his sleeve. "Hear my name and tremble! I am Lin Chen of the Wolf Fang Mercenary Group!"

Boss Nie: "..."

Zhang Fan: "..."

Chen Bing: "..."

This guy’s shameless.

The crowd exchanged uneasy glances. None had heard of "Lin Chen."

Who knew Yunzhou City hid such formidable figures?

Unexpectedly, the two beaten monks perked up.

"Ah Long! That kid who just beat us—he’s Lin Chen!"

"Wolf Fang Mercenary Group—it’s gotta be him!"

An Yi stared at the two bruised but excited monks, exasperated.

Are these two bald freaks invincible or something?

His beating had been pointless!

The crowd, however, dismissed An Yi.

He was just a troublemaker. Their real target was Boss Nie—no way one guy could protect two people against so many!

"Kid, forget the two hundred mil. How about this Nine Dragon Slaying Swords technique instead? It’s worth five hundred million."

Boss Nie tossed the manual to An Yi.

An Yi caught it, stunned.

Just like that?

A technique worth half a billion—handed over without a second thought?

Shirley, the mixed-race beauty, clung to Boss Nie’s arm and pumped her fist at An Yi. "Go get ’em, little bro!"

In an instant, every pair of eyes in the crowd locked onto An Yi like wolves spotting prey.

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