Chapter Forty-Six: Vanquishing Evil

“Sixteen twenty, sixteen thirty-five, sixteen seventy-five…”

In the afternoon, after Song Mingyue went to class, Gao Wu stayed behind in the training room to test his punching power.

Thirty punches in a row within a minute, each blow steadily reaching sixteen hundred kilograms—a clear improvement.

Gao Wu was convinced he still had untapped potential. Though a physique of fifteen points didn’t directly boost his strength or agility, it allowed him to withstand more ferocious, even brutal, ways of unleashing power without fear of injury, letting him harness his strength to the fullest.

An even greater advantage was that he could train to the limit, inject himself with more medicines, and push his potential relentlessly without worrying about damaging his body’s core.

At this rate, it wouldn’t take him half a year to reach two thousand kilos of punching force. That was the threshold for a martial artist, the minimum for a junior warrior.

In other words, with two thousand kilograms of force, he could even strike a warrior to death—assuming, of course, the opponent wasn’t shielded by source energy.

“If only I could get my hands on the Vajra Elixir…”

Gao Wu muttered to himself. With his powerful physique and mastery of the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Mantra, he could enjoy all the benefits of such potions, purging any side effects. He was born for reckless use of medicine.

The issue was that high-grade elixirs were expensive, like the Flying Squirrel Elixir—he simply couldn’t afford it. Song Mingyue had already done so much for him; he was too embarrassed to ask her for more.

With Tie Dalong locked up again, the only other possible source was Coach Huang Hai, who’d once suggested he enter tournaments and even promised to get him the Vajra Elixir.

Truth be told, Gao Wu was wary of Huang Hai. The man had inexplicably given him thirty vials of Blood Dragon Serum—highly suspicious!

Still, thoughts of the Vajra Elixir made Gao Wu’s heart stir. If Huang Hai harbored ulterior motives, perhaps it was only reasonable to take advantage of the opportunity.

If he really could get his hands on the Vajra Elixir, his strength might reach ten points. Then he’d have a shot at winning the Xuetao Cup!

But this was all just idle fantasy. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, especially from someone as sly as Huang Hai. If he was being so generous, he definitely had a hidden agenda—entering a few matches was never going to be the whole story.

“Hey, big bro, why aren’t you coming to class now that you’re back?” Shen Yue’s flying message interrupted Gao Wu’s chain of thought.

“I’ve already taken a long leave,” replied Gao Wu, a bit puzzled. “Is something up?”

“Everyone wants to see you, haha…” Shen Yue chuckled, then added, “You know, there are a lot of people online following your story. Since you’re out now, why not record a video and respond?”

He reminded him, “Don’t mention the authorities—say anything negative and you’ll get censored, but if you praise them, those who spoke out for you will feel betrayed. Just say that you’re back safe and sound, and thank everyone for their support…”

Shen Yue was experienced in these matters. With so many people supporting Gao Wu, if he came out and immediately thanked the authorities, his supporters would feel used and stabbed in the back. They’d turn around and attack him instead.

Not mentioning the authorities at all was a bit of a compromise, but by far the safest approach.

“You really get it. Let’s go with your suggestion,” Gao Wu agreed readily. Shen Yue had thought it through—he couldn’t afford to offend his fans.

After discussing the script, Gao Wu filmed a short video in a corner of the training hall and sent it to Shen Yue for editing.

His account was usually managed by Shen Yue anyway; he didn’t have to worry about it.

Once Shen Yue posted the video, Gao Wu checked in and saw the comments rolling in—most just glad that he was safe.

Inevitably, there were also doubts and insults, some accusing him of faking hardship to gain followers.

Some of the claims were downright bizarre: that his videos were staged, the killing was staged, even his arrest was staged…

Gao Wu was used to this kind of negativity by now. Whether online or in real life, wherever there are people, there’s every kind of nonsense.

Some people were naturally negative, spreading their mood with every word, determined to make others miserable regardless of their own circumstances.

Others deliberately stirred the pot, hoping to benefit from the surge in attention.

Online platforms had few restrictions, so there were even more oddballs. If he took every online spat seriously, he’d be exhausted.

In just a few days, his followers had climbed to three million.

In a mid-sized city like Dongjiang, that made him a true internet celebrity. If he wanted to, he could advertise energy bars, nutritional supplements, whatever—and earn ten or eighty thousand a month.

Though he didn’t have much money at the moment, he didn’t want to earn it that way. That kind of money wouldn’t solve his problems, and it might ruin his reputation.

To him, the greatest value of his fans was the merit they brought him.

Shen Yue came from a wealthy family and didn’t care about small sums. He had bigger ambitions—to run a major influencer account—and he didn’t advise Gao Wu to do advertising or sales now.

It was precisely because they shared this outlook that they could work together.

Gao Wu felt fortunate; the people he’d met—the old man, Qingjun, Shen Yue, Song Mingyue—had all treated him exceptionally well.

Even Tie Dalong and the others were good to him.

As for people like Huang Long, although unpleasant, they weren’t truly bad. The only real villain was Zhang Hao!

Huang Hai’s image flickered through Gao Wu’s mind—he’d been decent to him as well, but Gao Wu was certain Huang Hai was not a good person…

At half past nine that night, Gao Wu and Song Mingyue quietly made their way to White Scale Lake.

It was late December, and the surface of the lake was completely frozen solid. Many people came here to play; the snow on the ice was riddled with footprints.

Some areas had even been watered and smoothed into outdoor skating rinks.

Gao Wu and Song Mingyue found a spot beneath the bridge. Gao Wu drew his sword and sliced through the ice, murky lake water immediately welling up.

“Are you ready?” Gao Wu looked across at Song Mingyue.

Having taken her medicine, Song Mingyue’s whole body glowed crimson, her face flushed as if she were drunk. Under the bridge’s shadow, Gao Wu couldn’t clearly see her face, but he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

If she weren’t wrapped in a full diving suit, she’d surely be steaming. He estimated her body temperature was close to forty degrees.

He had no idea what kind of drug Song Mingyue had taken, but its effects were certainly fierce.

“Let’s go.” Song Mingyue wrapped her arm around Gao Wu’s waist with practiced ease.

Gao Wu lifted her up and leapt into the icy lake. With Song Mingyue acting as a human heat pack, Gao Wu actually felt a bit warm.

It was mostly due to his greatly improved physique, which let him easily resist the freezing water. He thought that as long as he kept his calorie intake up, he could soak here all day without freezing.

A few meters down, Gao Wu sensed the familiar chill.

The cold crept in like ribbons or serpents, coiling around him and Song Mingyue, tightening inward. They came here nearly every night, always following this routine, and the wraith was uncannily cooperative each time.

Just from this, Gao Wu guessed the wraith wasn’t particularly intelligent.

Tonight was different from before. Gao Wu could now withstand the chill on his own without reciting his mantra. In this calm state, he could sense that the swirling cold had a center—or a “head”—a spot marked by a distinct fluctuation of mental force.

He realized this was because he could store the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Mantra and, through the mantra, sense the wraith’s location.

He squeezed Song Mingyue’s arm, signaling that he was ready to act. Song Mingyue squeezed back in reply.

Right before making his move, Gao Wu hesitated for a moment.

Tonight’s situation was a bit dangerous; logically, they should have arranged for backup—tied safety ropes around themselves, had Aunt Lan watching outside.

For some reason, Song Mingyue had vetoed that idea.

She always made Aunt Lan wait outside. Gao Wu sensed that Song Mingyue didn’t fully trust Aunt Lan, or at least didn’t want a third person knowing about this.

If Song Mingyue wasn’t afraid, then he had nothing to fear either!

With a thought, Gao Wu unleashed all five stored Azure Dragon Divine Qi Mantras from deep within his brow. Lightning flashed in his pupils.

From the dark depths of the lake ahead came a piercing shriek—not in sound, but in the realm of the mind.

Five mantras burst forth at once, draining eighty percent of Gao Wu’s mental power. The sudden, razor-sharp scream was like an invisible ice spear, driving deep into his mind.

The pain was excruciating, as if his brain were exploding, his consciousness instantly going blank.

At that moment, Song Mingyue activated her Frost Moon Sword. A brilliant silver arc sliced through the icy water, cleaving the darkness…