Chapter 097: The Wrath of Zhao Feng

Red Square's face revealed a playful smile.

Yet, the bald man and his companions failed to notice this. Their attention was entirely consumed by Red Square's exquisite figure and those long, shapely legs. Each of them felt their blood surge with excitement. They rubbed their hands together eagerly, closing in on Red Square.

Meanwhile, Zhao Feng stood motionless to the side, as if stunned into silence. The bald man shot Zhao Feng a triumphant glance. "Kid, weren't you arrogant just now? Why aren't you so bold now, huh?"

Zhao Feng smiled faintly at the corner of his lips, slowly clasping his hands behind his back, as if he were simply watching a show. This unsettled the bald man for a moment.

The co-driver's face darkened; he stepped forward, blocking Zhao Feng and Red Square. He declared, "You all had better behave, or don't blame me for being ruthless!"

"Ha!" The bald man sneered. "Co-driver, you've already got such a beautiful lady—don't compete with us for this one!"

He crossed his arms, looking unfazed. "No need for pointless words!" He pointed at Red Square. "We only want this one; the rest of the foreigners are yours for the taking!"

The co-driver snorted coldly, his square face radiating uprightness and authority. "What do you take me, Du Wei, for?"

Only then did everyone learn the co-driver's name: Du Wei.

Zhao Feng silently memorized the name Du Wei. Perhaps due to Zhao Jun, Zhao Feng felt a natural affinity for those with this green identity. Or maybe, people like them were simply born to inspire closeness.

Du Wei snorted again, standing resolutely before Zhao Feng and Red Square. "I, Du Wei, swear that I will protect everyone here!"

Du Wei spoke with fierce determination. Seeing his imposing stance, the bald man and his group instantly wilted.

"Well said!" The surrounding onlookers, previously indifferent, now applauded. They were won over by Du Wei's charisma. Some scholars and business people gathered behind Du Wei. At this moment, nearly all passengers on the plane stood behind him.

Truthfully, some harbored selfish thoughts. But in this era of rule of law, who dared act recklessly? Those with dubious intentions quickly suppressed them.

Only the bald man and his companions failed to grasp the situation.

Du Wei exhaled a little, relaxing. Though he'd managed to intimidate them with his aura, he knew he was still outnumbered. Now, with this display of support, he finally felt some confidence.

The bald man's face turned livid as he witnessed the scene. He hadn't expected his beautiful plans to be ruined so thoroughly.

He took a deep breath. "Fine! We'll see about this!"

With those words, he prepared to leave alone.

A strange laugh suddenly echoed—"Heh heh heh!"

Everyone turned toward the sound. It came from the man in the black windbreaker.

"Brother, it'd be a shame to just leave like this! I don't mind lending you a hand!"

People frowned in displeasure. A young man, furious, shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

The man replied calmly, "Ming Yi."

"Ming Yi?" The crowd was puzzled, unsure if it was a name or a title.

Ming Yi laughed. "What does it matter if there are so many ants?"

The crowd frowned, confused by his words.

Suddenly, with a thunderous crash, thick black smoke erupted behind Ming Yi. The darkness billowed like storm clouds, swirling and spreading in dense clusters. It was so tangible it resembled a black cloth, instantly shrouding the entire sky.

People were stupefied, the bald man included. Then, excitement flashed across his face. Though shocked, his heart raced uncontrollably.

"An immortal! It's an immortal!"

The bald man hurriedly knelt, kowtowing and bowing in reverence.

Du Wei and his group were paralyzed with fear.

"What on earth is happening?" someone cried out.

Ming Yi slowly rose into the air, enveloped in swirling black mist. This spectacle struck everyone with awe once more.

A woman screamed. "Help!"

"Help us!"

"Heh heh heh!" Ming Yi laughed eerily.

He looked at the bald man and said, "Pick as you please."

"Alright!" The bald man howled, as if receiving an order, and charged at Du Wei and the others like a ravenous wolf.

Ming Yi suddenly turned to Zhao Feng. "You, martial artist of the third stage—step forward!"

He stretched out a massive hand, grasping at empty air. Instantly, the black mist contracted at lightning speed, finally condensing into a gigantic hand.

The black mist, now shaped into a huge hand, lunged toward Zhao Feng.

This scene shocked everyone even more deeply. Yet, now was not the time for hesitation; adversity reveals true character, and time exposes the heart.

No one expected Du Wei to throw himself at Zhao Feng.

With a crack, the black hand gripped Du Wei tightly. He positioned himself in front of Zhao Feng, shielding him with all his might.

Blood trickled from Du Wei's lips, his eyes growing dim.

He struggled to speak. "Little brother, you must survive!"

Zhao Feng froze, utterly unprepared for this moment. He had calculated everything—except this. Perhaps that was the saddest thing of all.

Zhao Feng stared at Du Wei, stunned. "Uncle, why did you do this?"

Du Wei gave a pained smile. "You look so much like my son."

Zhao Feng wiped the blood from Du Wei's mouth. "You remind me of my father, too."

"Heh..." Du Wei collapsed, lifeless within moments.

"Ah!" Zhao Feng's rage exploded.

His eyes blazed red, bloodshot veins spreading across them.

"Why? Why did I foresee everything, yet never this moment?"

Zhao Feng's face twisted with fury as he glared at the heavens. "Why?"

"Was it wrong for me to overthrow the Immortal Sect?"

"Why must you torment me so?"

Zhao Feng whirled toward Ming Yi. "You court death!"

With a thunderous leap, Zhao Feng soared into the air. "A mere third-level Qi refiner dares to act all-powerful before me!"

Zhao Feng's heart burned with boundless rage, barely contained.

A low hum resonated as black demonic markings appeared on his face, gruesome and terrifying. The markings flickered, alternating between light and darkness.

Clenching his fist, Zhao Feng struck out through the air.

At that moment, Ming Yi was still reeling in shock. He had never expected the martial artist he thought so easy to handle was actually a cultivator—far higher in rank than himself.

"Run!" Ming Yi was utterly demoralized, turning to flee.

He seemed to possess a special artifact, enabling him to fly through the air.

Yet Zhao Feng's punch shot forth like a cannonball, roaring toward Ming Yi.

In a split second, the aura projectile smashed into Ming Yi's back.

With a sickening spurt, Ming Yi coughed up blood, mingled with bits of organ...