Chapter 82: The Twin Heroes of Qingcheng

After dealing with all the men in black, Chen Erpao carefully searched the wooden cabin but found no trace of drugs. Instead, he discovered several machines. Unwilling to give up, he moved on to search the other cabins. At last, in a corner of the final cabin, he uncovered a massive stash of already-processed drugs, all hidden inside several large chests. It was estimated to weigh nearly a thousand kilos. In China, selling more than fifty grams of drugs warrants the death penalty, yet here lay nearly a thousand kilos. If these drugs were all sold, who knows how many lives would be destroyed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chen Erpao burned the drugs and all the machinery he had found, along with the wooden cabin itself, leaving nothing behind. Centuries ago, their nation’s decline was caused by opium. Centuries later, so many of his countrymen still risk everything and commit heinous acts for the descendants of opium.

When they entered the mountains that day, there were eleven of them. Now, only he remained. His heart was weighed down with sorrow and grief. Ten brothers in arms had followed him here, but he could not take them back with him.

Brotherhood compelled him to bury each of his fallen comrades properly. If he could not take them home, he would never allow their bodies to be left to the wild.

It was a long time before he finally emerged from the mountains, by which time the sky had already grown dark. Night had fallen, with only a few scattered stars in the sky. Chen Erpao was covered in blood, but fortunately, the streets of the town were nearly deserted at this hour; otherwise, he would have caused a great panic.

He slipped quietly to the hotel he had rented that day. Instead of striding in, he carefully checked the interior and the surrounding area. Only after ensuring it was safe did he enter, for these were no ordinary times—this was no leisure trip.

He returned to his room and immediately entered the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the cool water wash over him, mingling with the blood as it flowed away. Chen Erpao closed his eyes, allowing the water to wash away the exhaustion of the past days.

He stayed under the shower for almost an hour, and when he emerged, he felt much lighter, restored to his peak condition. Suddenly, his stomach growled insistently, making him look down in surprise.

“I haven’t exactly neglected you these days. We’ve eaten plenty of wild game; how can you be rebelling so soon?” Chen Erpao laughed to himself, muttering as he prepared a cup of instant noodles to satisfy his hunger.

He quickly finished the noodles and then called Wang Xing. The moment Wang Xing heard his voice, he was overjoyed. Rumors had been swirling in Hong Kong that Chen Erpao had been killed in the mainland, and since he had been trapped in the mountains and out of contact for days, even Wang Xing and the others had started to believe it.

That very day, Hengtang had indeed launched attacks on many of Yimen’s establishments. Fortunately, Wang Xing had been closely monitoring Hengtang’s movements, so they had been forewarned and had already made preparations. The losses were not severe—just a few nightclubs.

Early the next morning, Chen Erpao hurried to the airport. At that moment, he could hardly wait to return to Hong Kong.

Yimen was not Chen Erpao’s alone; it was the hope of many brothers. If anything happened to it, more brothers would be lost forever—a prospect he was unwilling to accept.

In Hong Kong, at a large nightclub in Tuen Mun, Liu Huagang sat inside with dozens of Yimen brothers. After learning that Hengtang planned to attack, he brought his men from the Blood Hall to wait for the enemy’s arrival.

“Boss, they’re here!” The once-calm atmosphere was broken as a gang member rushed in. “Hengtang’s men have arrived up front—at least over a hundred of them, led by two unfamiliar middle-aged men.”

Liu Huagang’s face was expressionless. Only Chen Erpao would know that this was the look he wore when his killing intent reached its peak.

“Brothers, are you afraid?”

“Not afraid! Not afraid!” Dozens of Blood Hall members, bare-chested and brimming with bravado, stood ready with blades in hand.

Liu Huagang looked over each face in turn. These were the men he had personally trained since becoming head of the Blood Hall, brothers who had fought by his side. He knew they were all true men—being a gangster was not just a way of life, but a test of courage.

Soon, over a hundred Hengtang men surged inside, led by two middle-aged men. One wore a fall trench coat, his expression wild; the other was dressed in a black suit, refined in appearance, more like a corporate executive.

Liu Huagang studied the two with rare seriousness.

“You don’t seem to be from Hengtang. I’ve never heard of you before. Their top enforcer was dealt with by my blade just yesterday, yet you’ve found two new experts so quickly.”

The man in the trench coat laughed loudly. “We’ve been brought in from the mainland by Tianyi Hall’s master. I’ve heard Hong Kong is full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. I didn’t expect to meet a worthy opponent so soon. This is our first fight in Hong Kong, and for you to die by our hands is an honor.”

Liu Huagang snorted coldly. “Overconfident fools. Since you’ve come to Hong Kong, don’t expect to leave alive—neither of you will walk out of here today.” His confidence and fighting spirit surged to the limit, his aura rising sharply in an instant.

Both the man in the trench coat and the man in the suit turned grave; they could sense the formidable strength before them. This would be a fierce battle. However, they were also supremely confident in their own abilities—they felt no fear, only a surge of fighting spirit.

“Kill!” In a split second, only blurs remained as the three clashed, blades flashing and the sounds of combat echoing ceaselessly. Both sides’ forces now collided as well—the nightclub filled with shouts, screams, and chaos.

After the first exchange, the three separated swiftly. The faces of the two newcomers were filled with shock. When they fought Liu Huagang together, they had still been at a disadvantage—he had not even shown his full strength.

“The Song Breeze Sword of Qingcheng Sect, and the Crushing Heart Palm—isn’t that right? I was under the impression that the major mainland sects were strictly forbidden from taking part in worldly conflicts. Why have two Qingcheng masters come to Hong Kong’s underworld? Ha!” In just a few exchanges, Liu Huagang had already identified their martial arts.

“Enough talk!” The man in the suit barked, leaping forward as a wave of crushing palm force surged out. He was using the famed Qingcheng technique, the Crushing Heart Palm—a vicious and sinister move said to kill without a trace, leaving the victim’s body unharmed but destroying their organs.

Liu Huagang did not meet the attack head-on; he moved like lightning, dodging aside. Suddenly, a scream erupted behind him. A Hengtang member had taken the blow instead—a hapless scapegoat who collapsed, dead on the spot.

“Haha! How ruthless you are. If you can’t kill me, there’s no need to vent on your own men!” Liu Huagang laughed, his blade slicing through the air. Forged from special materials, his weapon could truly cut stone and break gold, its edge formidable.

The man in the suit retorted coldly, “He was simply unlucky. But I’ll send you to join him soon.” With that, he attacked again—before his palms even landed, a sinister force rippled out. A dark glow flickered around his hands, a manifestation of his internal energy focused by a special method.