Chapter 13: The Worryingly Unconvincing Acting of Leader Wang

Chapter 13: The Gang Leader’s Dubious Acting

On one side of the study lay the rear garden, where the entire Black Dragon Gang family was lined up, side by side. Oil was poured, firewood laid, and finally, a torch was thrown. Next, a brush swept across the hall of the Black Dragon Gang, leaving bold strokes:

"Peaceful Black Dragon, evil beyond measure. Today, justice is served! Murderers: Haoqi Alliance, Hidden Sword Manor, Huang the Elder, Huang the Younger."

At last, they followed Wang Er through a secret passage out of the city. Standing atop a mountain, they watched from afar as the Black Dragon Gang’s stronghold was engulfed in flames, smoke billowing skyward, the world turned white and ashen.

Wang Er’s expression was dazed. Moments ago, he was the leader of the Black Dragon Gang; now, his entire house was destroyed by his own hand. Truly, truly…

At this moment, Old Wang’s feelings were indescribably complex.

Luo Feng, however, wore a look of mournful compassion, chanting funeral scriptures: “By order of the Most High, may all wandering souls, spirits, and all beings of the four births be delivered. Those with heads ascend, the headless rise; those slain by gun or blade, those drowned or hanged…”

It wasn’t that Luo Feng was suddenly moved by mercy—such kindness would hardly be wasted on these villains. Rather, he feared their vengeful spirits might become zombies and return for revenge, so he cremated them on the spot.

Now, considering this was a world of supernatural wonders, even if zombies could not arise, what if they became vengeful ghosts, hell-bent on retribution? Regardless of the efficacy of the scriptures, it was best to recite a passage, just in case.

As the distant flames grew ever greater, Luo Feng finished the funeral chant. Killing, arson, and posthumous deliverance: a full-service package arranged for the Black Dragon Gang.

Zheng Zha, who had returned, sighed. “Let’s go.”

“Wait…” Luo Feng hesitated. “I can’t help but think, chanting the funeral scripture won’t do much, will it?”

Zheng Zha scratched his head. “Then what do you want to recite?”

“I think we should try the Celestial Marshal’s Exorcism Incantation.” Luo Feng chuckled.

When Luo Feng was young, his family had once invited a ritual master to perform a ceremony. The eldest and most accomplished among them had recited this very incantation.

The Celestial Marshal was not Pigsy from Journey to the West, but the True Lord Celestial Marshal of the North Pole, one of the Four Saints of the North, alongside the True Martial Emperor.

“Celestial Marshal, Celestial Marshal, Slayer of the Nine Primordials, Commander of the Five Spirits… Sword King of Divine Might, cleaver of evil, extinguisher of all traces, purple aura ascends to heaven, crimson clouds blaze, devouring demons, consuming ghosts, riding the wind, blue tongue and green teeth, four-eyed elder, heavenly warriors, subduers of evil, thirty thousand troops guard my domain, expelling corpses for a thousand miles, driving away misfortune. Should any little ghost dare appear, the celestial axe will cleave them in five forms; fiery emperor’s blood, Northern Dipper’s bones, the four brilliances shatter the form, divine blade falls, ten thousand ghosts scatter. Urgent as the Imperial Edict.”

This incantation was said to be Daoism’s foremost ghost-slaying spell.

“Celestial Marshal, Celestial Marshal, Slayer of the Nine Primordials, Commander of the Five Spirits…” Luo Feng began to recite.

Halfway through, inspiration struck Luo Feng. He directed his internal energy, reciting the incantation with the breathing and cultivation method. Each word came slowly, one per second, but his voice resounded like thunder, akin to the Lion’s Roar supernatural technique of the Buddhist sects.

After this display, sunlight streamed onto his body—whether by suggestion or real effect, Luo Feng felt much warmer, the blood coursing energetically through his veins.

“Let’s go.” Luo Feng exhaled deeply, feeling light and refreshed.

Zheng Zha nodded, ready to leave. As the two turned to enter the forest, a fearful voice sounded behind them.

“Gentlemen heroes, what about the White Lotus Sect fiend?”

Shouldn’t you be upholding justice, eradicating evil to the very end?

At the mention of the White Lotus Sect, true to the script, the righteous heroes ought to charge forth unhesitatingly. But what was this?

Luo Feng paused, turning back with a half-smile. “Old Wang, there’s no such person as Huang Feng, that White Lotus Sect mutant, at the Grand Marshal’s Mansion.”

“We’re not going.”

Wang Er froze and, realizing what was meant, immediately knelt and wailed, “How could I deceive you, honorable heroes? The Black Dragon Gang has always been under Huang Feng’s control. If you don’t kill him, I’ll surely die by his hand!”

“Oh, I’ve already said your acting is good; why don’t you get it?” Luo Feng sighed, emphasizing “good acting,” then crouched down. “Is it that I wasn’t clear enough, or are you just slow? Huang Feng. Master Huang.”

In that instant, the trembling, cowardly Wang Er on his knees stopped shaking and slowly raised his head.

Then, the White Lotus Sect mutant, Huang Feng, stood up, his voice cold. “How did you see through me?”

How did I see through you? Luo Feng almost wanted to laugh aloud—should I tell you I’ve watched over seven hundred episodes of Detective Conan, know over six hundred methods of murder, am versed in more than two hundred locked-room mysteries, familiar with a hundred poisons, adept at creating airtight alibis, and skilled in using fishing lines, tape recorders, daggers, poisoned needles, and all sorts of tools?

Watching Huang Feng’s face twist with anger, Luo Feng shook his head, pitying him. “Let me tell you, we’re veterans, seen it all, mingled with all kinds of big shots, watched every blockbuster from the West. Your acting is so full of holes, so self-contradictory, even a rookie idol could do better.”

“First, if you were truly a useless new leader, you’d have been shocked and furious by my honey trap, not drawing your gun like a seasoned gangster.”

“Second, you recited the crimes of every gang member with perfect recall—something a newcomer from the Grand Marshal’s Mansion couldn’t possibly do.”

“The third point is my confirmation that you are Huang Feng.”

But as he reached the third point, Luo Feng deliberately paused, smiling without a word, cliffhanging like a serialized novel.

“What’s the third point? Tell me!” demanded Huang Feng.

“I’ll let you die quickly in a moment.” Huang Feng’s voice was low and ice-cold.

Luo Feng snapped his fingers, grinning. “The third point is—you’re finished!”

No sooner had he spoken than Luo Feng’s energy surged throughout his body; legs pounding the earth, he shot forward like a gust of wind.

“Ba—” Huang Feng tried to evade and sneer, but vines burst from the ground, ensnaring him.

As a cultivated mutant, his physical strength was considerable; he broke through Zheng Zha’s trap in a second. But in a life-or-death struggle, there are no drawn-out duels—sometimes, a single moment decides it all.

As Huang Feng freed himself, Luo Feng struck. Without suspense, the White Lotus Sect mutant took the full force of Luo Feng’s blow to his heart and lungs.

Coughing blood, Huang Feng collapsed, breathing his last.

With hate-filled eyes, he cursed in broken words: “You… despicable… shameless… Even as a ghost… I won’t… let you go!”

Back in the Black Dragon Gang mansion, seeing Luo Feng dodge bullets with ease, Huang Feng had nearly wet himself—such skill belonged only to the top disciples of the great sects. Killing a low-level cannon fodder like himself wouldn’t take a second move.

He’d thought they were from another sect, here to wipe out the White Lotus remnant. After some probing, he’d reckoned they were freelancers, so he’d staged the massacre, trying to lure them to the Grand Marshal's Mansion for an ambush.

But he never expected… the experts of today were so shameless, seeing through him from the start, setting up traps and ambushes.

How could they use such underhanded tactics with their high cultivation? Did they really think so highly of a mere White Lotus remnant like him?

With a heart full of unwilling resentment, Huang Feng breathed his last, eyes wide open in death.

After half an hour, certain that Huang Feng was truly dead, Luo Feng approached the body, sighing deeply.

“Old Wang, honestly, it was only when you made your move that I was sure you were Huang Feng. From tea to escape, I had only suspected.”

Contract has been sent.

(End of chapter)