Ye Chen returned to the Liu Corporation building. As he descended from the sky and landed on the rooftop, his sharp eyes scanned the area below, searching for any trace of Du Yao's presence.
But there was nothing. No sign of him anywhere.
"He's still alive," Ye Chen muttered under his breath. "And he managed to escape."
He clenched his fists. The thought of Du Yao still roaming free didn't sit well with him. It meant unfinished business—and danger that could return at any time. Du Yao would undoubtedly come back seeking revenge on both Ye Chen and Liu Yue. That man didn't seem like the type to give up easily.
Ye Chen sighed. The intense battle with Du Khun had bought Du Yao enough time to slip away. He was probably far beyond the city limits by now.
Still, Ye Chen didn't pursue. He had other priorities.
He walked back into the meeting room, where the remnants of chaos still lingered.
The first thing he did was check on Liu Yue and Situ Rui. Both were unconscious but unharmed—faint from the sleeping drug Luo Bing had used earlier. Ye Chen examined their pulses and breathing, then nodded in relief. "They're fine."
Then his gaze shifted to another figure on the floor—Luo Bing.
She was lying there, her breathing shallow and erratic. Her body trembled occasionally, and beads of sweat formed across her forehead.
Ye Chen rushed over and knelt beside her. He placed a hand on her wrist and frowned. Her body was burning hot, yet her skin was icy cold—an unnatural contrast.
"The poison from Du Khun's palm," he realized.
Without wasting a moment, Ye Chen reached into his storage ring and pulled out a set of golden acupuncture needles.
But before that—he needed to see how far the poison had spread.
He hesitated only a second before unfastening her OL uniform. As he peeled back the cloth, Luo Bing's flawless skin came into view. A lacy purple bra wrapped around her chest, and Ye Chen paused, taken aback for a moment. Luo Bing, despite her cold attitude, was undeniably a stunning beauty.
But now wasn't the time for admiration.
His eyes zeroed in on a blackened patch just below her right collarbone—it was spreading slowly, dark veins beginning to web outward.
"This is bad," he muttered.
Ye Chen gently unhooked her bra, his fingers careful and respectful. The twin peaks that had been hidden now lay exposed—but Ye Chen forced himself to focus. His eyes remained fixed on the wound. The corruption was spreading too quickly. If he hesitated, Luo Bing might not make it.
He took a breath, then began the detoxification process.
He inserted the needles swiftly into several pressure points, halting the poison's advance through her meridians. Then, he leaned down—his lips brushing her skin as he sucked the venom from the affected area.
Warm. Bitter. Toxic.
He spat the blackened blood onto the floor and repeated the process again and again.
As he worked, Luo Bing's lashes fluttered. A faint moan escaped her lips, and her hand twitched as if resisting. But her consciousness remained foggy—she didn't wake.
Finally, after several rounds of extraction, her body temperature stabilized. Her breathing grew calm and steady.
Ye Chen sat back, wiping his mouth and exhaling in relief. "That should do it."
He removed the needles and returned them to his storage ring. Then, with careful movements, he carried Luo Bing to another room and laid her gently on a leather sofa. He placed a healing pill between her lips and helped her swallow it.
"Rest now, officer Luo. You owe me one," he whispered with a smile.
With that, he returned to the meeting room.
Only one person remained there, still lying among the unconscious staff—Zhao Jinshan.
But Ye Chen could tell something was off. He approached the old man and said lightly, "Grandfather Zhao, it's just the two of us now. There's no need to pretend anymore."
Zhao Jinshan opened his eyes slowly and chuckled. "As expected of a cultivator. You saw through my act."
Ye Chen smiled. "Your breathing was too calm, too deliberate. A bit too perfect for someone supposedly drugged."
Zhao Jinshan sat up with effort, brushing off his clothes. "Your perception is exceptional. Even I was surprised."
"You seem quite familiar with cultivators, Grandfather Zhao," Ye Chen remarked.
"I am," Zhao Jinshan nodded. "Though I'm not one myself, I encountered many during my years as a general. They're not just powerful—they're forces of nature. Even the highest military ranks respected them deeply."
Ye Chen's interest was piqued. "If that's the case… then surely you must know—are there powerful cultivators supporting our government?"
Zhao Jinshan's expression turned serious. "Yes. We call them the Guardians. They don't usually interfere in politics, but when the country faces true catastrophe—when armies fall and cities crumble—they step in. Some of them have the power to split seas or flatten mountains. In a modern world, they are walking nuclear bombs."
Ye Chen's heart pounded at the image.
"With that kind of power," Ye Chen asked, "why hasn't our country risen to dominate the world?"
Zhao Jinshan gave a grim smile. "Because we're not alone. Other nations have their own Guardians—though they go by different names. Some are even more terrifying than ours."
He paused, then listed the names slowly, like reciting the names of gods:
"Holy Church. Chaos Bridge. Dark Legacy. Carmilla's Rose. Yagatama Orochi. Blue Esper. Devil Lucifer."
"These are the dominant powers of the modern world," Zhao Jinshan explained. "Each one rules from the shadows, influencing nations and shaping history. No government dares provoke them directly."
Ye Chen fell silent. It was as if a curtain had been pulled back, revealing a world far more complex and dangerous than he'd imagined.
So Earth wasn't as weak as he'd once thought.
He'd assumed he could dominate this planet with his cultivation, but now… he realized how naïve that thinking had been. There were monsters here—hidden powers who could rival even the peak cultivators of the realms beyond.
He clenched his fists. "Then what about our side? Is there anyone who can match them?"
Zhao Jinshan's eyes darkened. "Yes. In our land, the strongest cultivators reside in the Holy Land of Kunlun."
Ye Chen's gaze sharpened at that name. For some reason, Zhao Jinshan's tone shifted—there was bitterness in it.
"Grandfather Zhao," Ye Chen asked cautiously, "do you… have a history with Kunlun?"
Zhao Jinshan's silence stretched for several seconds.
Then he looked up, his expression grave.
"That… is a story for another time."