The Immortal Emperor Returns

Chapter 265 Assassination Plot

The Cultists and all Fusang wandering warriors were all rounded up and taken back to the army garrison to be kept under lock and key.

“Tell me, what your plans are?” asked Chu Xun frostily at the shackled Mocheng and his cohorts. The interrogation was being held at the field in the camp.

“We are only here for the ancient ruins outside the city,” said Mocheng, still grimacing at the wound at the back of his head. He looked badly bruised and battered; the soldiers must have given him an extra round of beating during the way back.

Chu Xun’s lips twisted into a sardonic grin.

“It is no secret that I am nowhere near the kindest person you’ll ever encounter. Tell us the truth, and you shall have a quick and clean death. But if you think you can take more abuse, pray take a look around.”

Mocheng jerked his head around and what he saw made him sweat profusely. Scores of soldiers were watching the interrogation on the sidelines, eyeing him with anger and anticipation like a pack of wolves, eager to rip him limb from limb with their bare hands.

Brotherhood in the military is an inexplicable sense of camaraderie shared by the people you fight alongside with; a sense of kinship that would compel any man to willingly stand and take a bullet for his brothers-in-arms.

The attack of these Fusang wandering warriors on the army garrison had claimed the lives of more than a dozen soldiers—brothers or friends of the soldiers now watching the interrogation—including Ning Heng, who was wounded during the attack, and for that, the soldiers were burning with rage.

“W-W-We... We’re only after the ruins outside the city. Nothing more.”

Chu Xun regarded his captive with a glare filled with ice, his mind saturating with the zeal to kill.

“You should take a rest, Master,” said Lei Bao, “You can leave this to me. Rest assured that you’ll have the answers you seek by daybreak.”

“No,” Chu Xun shook his head and said, “I’m fine. Whatever methods you can come up with, I don’t care. I only want answers.”

Chu Xun’s voice came, unnaturally steely and calm that Lei Bao could hardly suppress a shudder. In the western suburb industrial area, they uncovered the crevice from which the Cultists emerged from and discovered a cave system inside. In it, they found more than a dozen young girls held inside and a few of them had been tortured beyond recognition.

The crowd of soldiers watching the interrogation stirred with mild excitement at what Chu Xun said, their eyes gleaming like predators recognizing prey.

Soldiers have only the deepest loathing and contempt towards spies and traitors. By working with the Fusang wanderers, kidnapping girls and providing them to the wandering warriors as playthings, and launching an assault on the army garrison, the Cultists were as good as traitors as far as the soldiers were concerned and no amount of torture could assuage the grudge and hatred the troops harbored for members of this infernal order.

A volunteer stepped forward—one of the soldiers, and went to one of the Fusang wanderers in chains. He grabbed at one of his fingers and twisted it with sadistic glee.

“@#￥%...” groaned the islander warrior with such excruciating pain that his eyes went white, babbling incomprehensible words of alien tongue.

From his expression, one could almost be certain that it was hardly anything pleasant.

Puff!

A fist smashed into his mouth and blood spurted out. His lips grew swollen and bloodied with several of his incisor teeth fallen off.

“Try whining like a bird again, you shorty,” jeered the soldier again, his eyes bloodshot in reddened rage as he began giving a couple of tight slaps on the wandering warrior’s cheeks.

When he was finished, the face of the Fusang wanderer was a contorted heap covered with innumerable cuts and bruises and his eyes had rolled back, passing out entirely.

Splash!

A bucket of water was splashed into his face to wake him up.

Smack!

Before he could properly regain consciousness, a foot drove into his face, spattering more blood everywhere while smashing half of his face into a pulp.

His comrades suffered similar or worse; each had seven to eight soldiers standing in a ring around them, delivering a never-ending litany of punches and kicks in a harrowing baptism of abuse.

Ironically, it was Lei Bao and his companions who had become the spectators of the event instead.

“Enough!” Pan Zihao bellowed suddenly, unable to take it anymore. His men were only exacting vengeance without even any questioning. “You idiots, we need answers! Find out what are these scums plotting about!”

“Understood, Sir!” hooted the soldiers as one.

Yet the abuse went on as if the soldiers were afraid of not having their fill.

“SPEAK! WHAT PURPOSE BRINGS YOU HERE?!”

And before this Fusang wanderer could speak, a booted foot slammed into his mouth.

“You bastard! How dare you help foreign scums in killing our own! You’re worse than dogs! Speak! What are you plotting?!”

“I, I...”

Bang!

A fist hammered into this Cultist’s throat, knocking the air out of him.

“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH!” Pan Zihao glowered, “STOP, ALL OF YOU! STAND DOWN!”

If he did not step in, the captives could not even be able to give them any information even if they would.

Mocheng—his face now mangled with streaks of blood pouring out from his wounds—teetered on the verge of tears. Apparently someone had taken the opportunity during the chaos to kick him twice in the groin, causing so much pain that his sides and abdomen cramped with agony.

For a Human King to suffer such abuse and humiliation, for a brief moment, Mocheng contemplated committing suicide. But Chu Xun had magically paralyzed the captives and he could hardly move a finger.

The soldiers withdrew reluctantly.

Lei Bao strolled towards the captives and lifted one of the Fusang wanderers. Grinning smugly, he asked, “Speak! What is your purpose for coming here?”

What came through the lips of the captive he held up was nothing more than a string of blabber in foreign tongue. Incensed, Lei Bao shoved a ball lightning into the man’s mouth and the latter’s head erupted into a bloody mist with a dull boom.

“Urm... Apologies, my bad... Heh heh heh... My bad...”

Lei Bao muttered nonchalantly before he stepped sideways and held up another captive, “Do you speak the Huaxia tongue?”

“@#￥%...”

“Damn... You come to Huaxia, then do as we Huaxia people do! To think that you can’t even speak our tongue, yet you dare come here to raise hell!”

With another snap, blood burst out like a fountain and the Fusang captive screamed; Lei Bao had torn off one of his arms.

“Who among you can speak the Huaxia tongue?” Lei Bao grinned widely, staring at the rest of the Fusang captives.

Frightened out of their wits, the captives hardly paid any heed to what he said. Instead, they were terrified of him, desperately dragging their incapacitated selves away, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and him.

Lei Bao looked at Pan Zihao, “We need an interpreter, my friend. Unless you think I understand the gibberish they speak.”

“U-U-Urm...” Pan Zihao stared bewilderedly.

“Sir! I understand their tongue, sir!” one of the soldiers barked.

Every pair of eyes stared at this soldier strangely. Even Chu Xun himself included. Then someone pointed out that he was one of the first soldiers who threw themselves at the captives, beating them up so badly that they could hardly speak let alone providing information.

An unmistakable scarlet shade burned on the soldier’s dark features with so many eyes watching him.

“How did you learn the Fusang tongue?” asked Lei Bao curiously.

“I, I, I learned their language so that I could understand their speech in their motion pictures,” said the soldier, his face blushing even more to the point of becoming purple.

Strange gazes hurtled his way.

“What makes it so difficult to understand their tongue when most of their motion pictures barely have few lines? The scenes, the characters, and the actions in the films are so bland. Is that really so hard to understand?” murmured Lei Bao quietly.

But as soon as he finished, he realized he had misspoken. He feigned a couple of coughs and steered the subject away.

“All right then, stay with me and help me translate,” Lei Bao said to him. His gaze fell on Mocheng and he went to him, not forgetting to deliver a few kicks into the captive before lifting him up, “Speak, what is your purpose for coming here? Repeat one more time the piffle about the ancient ruins outside the city, and I’ll cut off one of your fingers.”

“We don’t have other purposes... Honest...” whimpered Mocheng, before suddenly screaming, “ARRGGHH!” One of his fingers was torn off by Lei Bao.

“I’ll give you one more chance.”

“I, I... ARRGGGHH!”

Mocheng let loose a guttural howl that sounded nothing human; a howl so bestial that everyone’s hair stood on ends.

Arching his back in agony in the shape of a shrimp, Mocheng writhed and trembled at the pain, yet still, he maintained a hateful glare on Lei Bao.

Winsome Widow drew in a breath and held it.

Chu Xun covered Jiu You’s eyes with his hands, his eyebrows furrowing faintly.

Lei Bao had planted a foot into Mocheng’s groin and everyone could almost hear his testicles crushing under the force.

“Wow, my apologies... My bad... my bad...” Lei Bao picked Mocheng up and tossed him aside carelessly like garbage.

That made every captive, the Cultists and the Fusang wanderers, all jumped with their eyes swirling with fear, utterly terrified beyond wits.

Chu Xun’s gaze grew distant as he grew impatient. He would have wanted to use the Soul-searching Technique.

But these were all Human Kings who would never have achieved such heights without great willpower. The Soul-searching Technique could instead harm him if he so much as erred just a little bit.

“@#￥%...” one of the Fusang wanderers croaked suddenly.

Looking at the soldier who knew the Fusang tongue, Chu Xun demanded, “What did he say?”

“He’s saying that he is willing to confess, but you need to guarantee his safety, Sir!”

“You dare make demands from us?!” Lei Bao storm towards him and was about to deliver another kick into the man.

“Stand down,” said Chu Xun quietly.

Lei Bao stopped in his tracks and quickly backed down.

“Tell him, I can spare his life if he speaks the truth.”

The soldier quickly relayed Chu Xun’s words to the Fusang captive.

The captive struggled to his knees and knelt before Chu Xun, babbling a string of unintelligible gibberish.

“According to this man, the wandering warriors are allies of the Broken Souls Cult and they are here upon their invitation in a plot to assassinate you.” The soldier gulped nervously, stole a glance at Chu Xun to see if he was angry before he went on, “The Cult has promised them rights to the ancient ruins if the assassination is successful, in addition to a hundred low-grade spiritual herbs, a hundred spiritual fruits, and one magical fruit.”

“Wow... what an expense...” Chu Xun observed, his eyes steely calm. It appeared that the Cult was now bent on murdering him after his many attempts at thwarting their plans. “Ask him, what is this plot of theirs?”

The soldier repeated the question and responded to Chu Xun, “He said that the Broken Souls Cult has made all the proper arrangements. A total of thirty First-grade Human Kings, ten Second-grade Human Kings, five Third-grade Human Kings, and one Fourth-grade Human King had been assembled and mobilized to launch an ambush on you when the ancient ruins reappear.”

Gloom settled in on Chu Xun despite his attempts to look calm, and his eyes flared with a purplish tinge.

Whereas Lei Bao and the others turned morosely solemn. First-grade Human Kings were nothing to them, while Second-grade Human Kings were still manageable. But the collective might of five Third-grade and one Fourth-grade Human Kings was too huge an obstacle for them.

“Surely these Fusang wanderers are hardly the only outside help the Cultists have enlisted?” said Chu Xun coolly.

“He said, in addition to them, the Cultists have found other help as well. He is certain that they are local, although he knows nothing about which sect or order they belonged to.”

Chu Xun’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Ask him where the outside reinforcements are hiding now.”

The soldier exchanged a few more words with the Fusang captive before turning back up, “He doesn’t know. They do not have contact with each other, except to agree on a meeting when the ancient ruins resurface.”

Chu Xun said nothing. It would be virtually impossible for him to remove them off the chessboard separately now.

“Take them away and put them under close watch,” ordered Chu Xun, before he added, “Don’t kill them.”

There was no telling what terrible fate might befall these captives if he left them in the supervision of the soldiers without forbidding any killing.

“So, what should we do now, Master?” asked Winsome Widow, looking positively worried. The Broken Souls Cult had obviously gone through great lengths to ensure that the plot would be as tight as a net could ever be to prevent any failures.

With a frosty gaze, he looked up and the perfect reflection of the bright silvery orb in the sky mirrored in his eyes as if it was the very sky that carried the moon and stars overhead.

“Should we retreat for the time being and bide our time, Master,” suggested Lei Bao hesitantly. Contrary to his usual brash demeanor, even he could not help being pensive and glum.

A little hand wrapped its fingers around Chu Xun’s wrist, and Jiu You looked up at him anxiously.

Chu Xun’s eyes squinted like a black hole engulfing the stars and the moon, then the corners of his lips curled as he said, “If it’s a fight they want, then so be it.”

Lei Bao and Winsome Widows shared disbelieving glances.

“Very well, wigs on the green it is then. Even if we die, we die pulling them down with us,” growled Lei Bao fiercely.

“Not ‘we’. It’s me,” chuckled Chu Xun.

“But Master...” stammered Lei Bao and Winsome Widow, distraught and upset. Did Chu Xun intend to fight alone?

Chu Xun raised a hand and waved them off before they could offer any objections, saying simply, “This is my order.”