Chapter 84: The One-Eyed Old Woman (Part II)

The one-eyed old monk sat in the car, closing his solitary eye, quietly resting with his head bowed. Beads of sweat as large as soybeans emerged on his bald scalp, and his complexion grew increasingly ashen. After a while, he took out his phone and called Li Xiong, the leader of the Hungry Wolf Mercenary Corps within the borders of Country T.

In H City, on a certain road, a police car sped along at breakneck pace, driven by Fang Jing. As she drove, she asked the officer in the passenger seat, “Has the command center responded to us?”

“Other than the order just now directing us to a certain location, there’s been no further response,” the officer replied, his face full of confusion. “It’s really strange. Could our communications equipment be malfunctioning?”

Hearing this, a chill passed over Fang Jing’s delicate, attractive face. “Take my phone. Call the chief at our North City police station and find out what’s going on—why are we being sent there?”

For some reason, a deep sense of foreboding gnawed at her heart. Yet when they tried to call the chief, no one answered. Fang Jing grew all the more suspicious, but in the end, she followed the command center’s orders and headed toward the specified location.

Twenty minutes later, on a broad square in the outskirts of H City, Fang Jing drove the police car in. In the center of the square, another police car sat with its hazard lights flashing in the darkness, drawing immediate attention.

“Captain Fang, I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this,” the officer in the passenger seat confessed.

Fang Jing felt the same unease. “Everyone, check your weapons—prepare for battle,” she ordered coolly.

Clicks sounded throughout the car as bullets were chambered and safeties disengaged. They aimed their guns at the police car in the center of the square as Fang Jing drove toward it.

At that moment, her phone suddenly rang. She answered. A familiar voice came through: “Fang Jing, wait for me. There’s something wrong with that car!”

It was Chen Xian.

“What’s wrong, where are you?” Fang Jing asked, pressing the brakes.

“I’m three hundred meters behind you. I’ll be there soon!”

Before she could respond further, the door of the central police car swung open. From the back seat stepped a monk in a yellowed robe, possessing only a single eye, who fixed his gaze on Fang Jing.

A violent shock ran through Fang Jing—her vision seemed to be sucked into that solitary eye, which was like an abyss, terrifying and endless. In an instant, her sight swam, and then everything vanished; her eyes turned blank and soulless, as if she’d been bewitched.

“Captain…” The officer beside her, seeing Fang Jing’s vacant face, cried out in horror and raised his gun toward the one-eyed monk. But he had barely uttered a sound when a mysterious, resonant Buddhist chant filled his ears. His mind quaked, and his eyes too became dull and lifeless.

The other officers in the car suffered the same fate, unable even to pull their triggers.

“Fang Jing, what’s happening?” Chen Xian’s anxious voice echoed from the phone—but now there was no one left to answer.

Just then, a taxi stopped at the edge of the square. A figure leapt out and sprinted toward the police car, as swift as a thunderbolt.

At the same moment, the one-eyed monk strode forward in great bounds, covering over ten meters with each step, heading straight for Fang Jing’s vehicle.

Just as he was about to reach the car, a figure appeared in his path. It was a young man with eyes bright as stars and a close-cropped haircut—none other than Chen Xian, who had tracked the signal of 001 all the way here.

Seeing Chen Xian, the one-eyed monk halted. “You’re Chen Xian?” he asked coldly.

“I am,” Chen Xian replied, a faint smile playing at his lips, his tone calm.

The monk let out a sinister cackle. “Perfect. Saves me a trip. I’ll deal with both you and Fang Jing together!”

As soon as he finished speaking, his single eye suddenly emitted a ghostly light. Within it, a vortex rotated slowly, like a bottomless black hole capable of devouring all.

Instantly, Chen Xian felt a powerful spiritual force assailing his mind. But the smile on his lips only deepened into a cold, reckless curl. “A mere firefly dares to vie with the bright moon?”

With a thunderous surge, an even mightier force of spirit erupted from Chen Xian’s mind, striking back at the monk’s psychic attack.

Like sunlight melting snow, the monk’s assault dissolved in an instant.

“You… You’re a master of psychic power?” the monk gasped in shock.

“You could say that,” Chen Xian answered with a faint smile.

A tremendous pressure of spirit crashed down upon the monk, who felt as if a tidal wave were about to swallow him whole.

Staggering backward a dozen steps before regaining his balance, the monk’s head rang as if struck by a gong. With a strangled cry, he spat out a mouthful of black blood.

Wasting no time, realizing Chen Xian’s overwhelming strength, he spun around and fled. In the blink of an eye, he had dashed several dozen meters away.

Chen Xian only sneered. “Trying to run? Too late.”

With those words, a streak of red light shot from his brow, flying even faster to strike the fleeing monk.

Having finished, Chen Xian did not immediately pursue, but instead turned his attention to the dazed officers. In a low, clear voice, he commanded, “Awaken!”

Though softly spoken, his words rang in their ears like a thunderclap, snapping them all back to consciousness.

Seeing that the monk’s spell had been broken, Chen Xian vanished in a flash, pursuing the one-eyed monk. With the tracking bug 002 in play, the monk would not escape.

As their eyelashes fluttered, Fang Jing and her team all awoke. She remembered only that after making eye contact with the monk, her consciousness had vanished.

“Hurry, check the police car ahead!” Fang Jing ordered, gripping her gun tightly.

When they rushed to the car, they found only a single officer in the driver’s seat, his face blank, and the rest of the vehicle empty.

…

Elsewhere in the suburbs, inside a dilapidated factory, a figure burst inside. It was the monk in the yellow robe, now ghostly pale, his spirit still reeling from Chen Xian’s earlier assault.

He found a secluded corner, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes to stabilize his wounds.

“Tonight, you die.”

Just then, a cold voice echoed through the factory, chilling him to the bone—a voice like the summons of the King of Hell.

The monk’s eyes snapped open in terror, staring toward the entrance. There, bathed in icy moonlight, a slender figure strode toward him, each step as steady and dreadful as a god or demon.