For the shopkeeper, there was no employee more loathsome than Little Liu, a man who bit the hand that fed him. These people infiltrated the pawn shop specifically to scout targets and rob customers leaving with money. As a massive business, Fullyield Pawn Shop didn't need underhanded tactics, but these people certainly did. It was a worst-case scenario—the pawn shop's reputation was being ruined without them even knowing it. Worst of all, it would jeopardize his promotion.

"You son of a bitch!" Cursing violently, Shopkeeper Zhang delivered a vicious kick that shattered the mole's hand. Just as the man opened his mouth to scream, An Jing stomped down hard, knocking him out cold.

"Rest assured." Shopkeeper Zhang turned toward An Jing and offered a solemn, apologetic bow. "Fullyield Pawn Shop will give you a proper explanation. I'm so ashamed. Here we were, just chatting, yet I never expected the source of the trouble to be one of our own."

"It's fine." An Jing brushed it off with a wave of his hand, as if unconcerned with the matter. "After all, I didn't suffer any harm, did I? Besides, I can see that you're a good man, Shopkeeper Zhang.

"How about this?" An Jing smiled. "If it isn't too much trouble, would you come with me to hand this mole over to the authorities? After all, I'm just a visitor from Dustdawn. Your voice carries far more weight here in Keensight. I'll gladly speak up on your behalf to clear your shop of any ties to the mole."

"Wonderful, that's wonderful!" Shopkeeper Zhang breathed a sigh of relief. While An Jing framed it as a favor, the truth was he could have found any upstanding local to assist him. This was entirely about saving face. It gave him a chance to salvage the pawn shop's reputation, distance the business from the mole, and put his promotion back on track. This was An Jing throwing him a lifeline. If he rejected it, then he truly had no business being a shopkeeper and might as well go back to being a shop assistant.

With the plan set, they moved fast. Shopkeeper Zhang and a few assistants slung the mole onto a carrying pole and headed straight for the authorities. For now, the matter seemed to have drawn to a close. Apprehending a mole from the True Fiend Cult and bringing the respected shopkeeper of Fullyield Pawn Shop as a witness would lend more weight to An Jing's words when speaking to the city manager. But in reality, this was just the beginning.

An Jing had been aware from the very start that someone was eavesdropping on his conversation with Shopkeeper Zhang. He bided his time, moving only when Yvelbane confirmed the listener had delivered a message. And his patience paid off handsomely.

Here they come. Walking along the frozen street with the employees of Fullyield Pawn Shop, An Jing suddenly looked up, scanned the upcoming intersection, and smiled. Just as I thought. Their arrogance grows as the snow calamity approaches. They had the decency to pretend before. Now, they don't even bother hiding their crimes.

As Shopkeeper Zhang stammered out a bewildered, "Who are you? What do you want?!", a group of burly martialists in gray cloaks slowly filed out from the deserted, snow-covered alleyway.

The cloaks offered no reply, enveloping the area in a cold, rigid silence. Their faces were masked, but their dark, sun-baked skin instantly revealed they weren't locals. An Jing even recognized a few familiar faces from their reconnaissance of Honor Pavilion earlier that day.

The True Fiend Cult struck as soon as they received the news.

"Kill!" A single word from their gray-cloaked leader set the battle in motion.

Even before the command could land, An Jing's hand closed around the hilt of his blade, and the bloodbath commenced. The trio from Fullyield Pawn Shop had barely processed the situation when a sharp metallic ring echoed alongside a flash of dark silver light. A crimson spray erupted into the air.

An Jing suddenly appeared beside the nearest gray-cloaked martialist. The man's head remained held high, his eyes flashing with a ruthless, bloodthirsty light, entirely oblivious to his doom as hot blood geysered from his severed neck. Before the man's head could even hit the ground, An Jing executed Profoundstep to instantly close in on the second martialist who had yet to register the threat, driving a burst of Armorpierce Impetus right through him.

The moment An Jing swung his blade, it was no longer a man wielding steel; it was the cataclysm of a collapsing mountain, the fury of a raging storm, and a thunderbolt sent from the heavens to purge all injustice. This was the true meaning of the Imperial Sky Art which most cultists would never reach in their lifetimes.

Neither the gray-cloaked martialist nor the employees of Fullyield Pawn Shop saw a thing. All they caught was a fleeting streak of lightning. Another head flew from its shoulders. An Jing hadn't used lethal qi, any abilities, or even Evenstar Ivory Divine Seal, but relied solely on his incredible bodily constitution and skilled application of force. It was more than enough.

"How's this possible!?"

Next in line was their leader, a Tide Aura martialist. Watching two of his men die in the blink of an eye, the man finally realized this was no simple task of disposing of an ignorant Dustdawn brat; he had bitten off far more than he could chew. His survival instinct kicked in just in time as he whipped up his weapon at lightning speed, blocking with both the blade and scabbard with an audible clang.

Though the strike sliced straight through his blade and sheath, the gray-cloaked leader used the momentum to hurl himself backward, opening up a distance of five zhang. Screw your intel, you son of a bitch! A pampered brat? He's clearly a genius from one of Dustdawn's tribes. How the hell are we supposed to fight him?!

In a burst of pure shock and fury, he roared, "What are you waiting for?! Swarm him—" Halfway through his sentence, he went dead silent, and it wasn't by choice. The cold bite of a blade was already pressing against his throat, sealing his breath and locking his jaw. He had no time left to think, let alone act. A pair of scarlet eyes was quickly closing in. An Jing's blade was already upon him.

A third head spun skyward as the gray-cloaked leader met the exact same end as the other two. After mastering the Imperial Sky and Imperial Earth Arts and forming the third arcane seal, An Jing's constitution was already on par with certain Fortification cultivators of non-physical wonders. The seals enhancing his limbs, combined with the explosive velocity of Profoundstep, turned An Jing into a ghostly blur as he cut down the martialists one after another before they could even register his movements.

"Goodness! Olden Heavenly Father above!" The whole thing felt like a dream to everyone present, including Little Liu who had regained consciousness at some point. An Jing's true capabilities far surpassed their wildest imagination. The fluidity and precision of his movements highlighted a vast gap in skill. It was the difference between a novice who could barely cook plain noodle soup and might cut themselves chopping a radish, and a master chef capable of preparing a lavish feast while carving the twelve zodiac animals out of blocks of tofu.

The martial geniuses from the prefectures and the divine capital, those chosen for the True Martial Arena, couldn't possibly match up to this, could they?

For the remaining gray-cloaked martialists, the scene unfolding before them had become their worst nightmare. Within three breaths, An Jing had already demolished nearly half of the seven-man team, taking out their leader and two others. Rather than turning tail, the remaining four charged An Jing like rabid beasts. Shouting incoherently, they swung their weapons wildly and rushed from all sides to corner the young Dustdawner.

However, An Jing lowered his blade just as the first severed head fell onto the frozen ground. "I must leave one or two alive," he muttered to himself. Then his fist shot forth as the second head came down.