Chapter Forty-Eight: Military Mission

In just three days, Yang Fan used ten Grade Two Muscle-Tempering and Bone-Refining Pills to raise his cultivation to the peak of the second grade. The bones throughout his body had already taken on a deep crimson hue.

At this moment, Yang Fan could truly feel the advantage that ample resources brought. While most of his peers were still struggling at the first grade, he had already reached the second; when the most outstanding among them managed to break through to the second grade, he was already at its peak. The abundance of resources had pushed his cultivation to a higher realm.

However, upon attaining the peak of the second grade, Yang Fan also sensed that his blood and energy were somewhat unstable, his control over them less certain than before. He knew this was a consequence of advancing too rapidly. The fierce surge in his cultivation, coupled with the uninterrupted supply of pills, had caused a tremendous amount of blood and medicinal energy to accumulate within him, subtly nurturing his bones to completion. Yet this was not the result of constant, painstaking cultivation, but rather the work of elixirs. As a result, his mastery over his own blood and strength was affected.

What should one do in such a situation? Yang Fan wasn't sure, but he had a teacher to ask. He went to consult Li Tian, who simply told him, "Go fight." Regain control of your strength in battle.

Yang Fan was dismayed—how could he go fight others when he couldn't even control his own power? Wasn't that just courting death? But after considering it, he realized he had no other choice; he had been too impatient.

Returning to his dorm, Yang Fan packed a few things, preparing to head out on a mission. The tasks he'd taken on in the past few days were not difficult, and he intended to use them as practice. With his newly acquired alloy weapon and backpack, Yang Fan left the Shanghai Cultivation Academy. The academy gates receded behind him into the distance.

...

Ancient Chang'an.

Yang Fan exited the airport and first went to the cultivators' office to retrieve his long saber. As he collected his weapon, the envy on every face in the office was unmistakable.

An F-grade alloy weapon—so heavy, and surely worth a fortune. That was the shared thought of everyone present.

...

Four days later, on the outskirts of Chang'an.

Yang Fan sat on the ground clutching his thigh, surrounded by four corpses—the scene thick with blood and gore. One of the bodies had even been severed at the waist.

At this moment, Yang Fan cursed under his breath, "Unlucky, truly unlucky, capsized in the gutter this time. Everything was over, and I still got shot." He looked at his right thigh, where a bloody hole gaped. Focusing his energy and blood, he managed to keep it away from the wound, so there was little bleeding.

Such was the resilience of a cultivator. Even when injured, controlling the flow of blood meant there was no need to worry about blood loss.

Before long, staff from the Chang'an Cultivator Administration arrived. Faced with the carnage, several turned pale and hurried off to vomit. Yang Fan paid them no mind, tending to his wound himself. He had already extracted the bullet, and even he wondered if he was a bit of a madman. Although there was no risk of bleeding out, the pain was very real. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to dig the bullet out with his bare hands.

He sprinkled on some medicine for external injuries, purchased from Ouyang Yunlei, and soon the pain in his leg eased enough to bear.

By now, the staff had cleaned up the scene, loading the four corpses onto a transport vehicle. The way they now looked at Yang Fan was tinged with awe. In just these few days, he had completed several missions for the Chang'an Cultivator Administration, slaughtering more than a dozen people, each time as bloody as this.

Feeling recovered, Yang Fan stood up and addressed the team leader, "Brother, sorry to trouble you, but you'll have to take me back too—I've been shot and can't walk!" Zhang Miao, the leader, was momentarily stunned but quickly replied, "No problem, no problem!" and began making arrangements.

On the way back to the city, Yang Fan sat upright beside Zhang Miao, who was visibly uneasy. Who could blame him? The man beside him was a veritable god of slaughter. In just a few days, he had witnessed more mayhem than in the rest of his life combined, and the culprit was right next to him.

Yang Fan noticed Zhang Miao's discomfort and offered a smile, "Brother, you've worked hard these past few days." Zhang Miao didn't dare be negligent, replying quickly, "Not at all, not at all, just doing my job. It's you who's worked hard, rooting out evil for society."

Yang Fan couldn't help but laugh. He had completed many missions since becoming a cultivator, but no one had ever praised him like this. His heart swelled with delight, and he said, "Still, I should thank you. Without your intelligence, I'd never have found them!"

Internally, Zhang Miao was cursing up a storm. He really didn't want to talk to Yang Fan, but this harbinger of death seemed completely oblivious, leaving him no choice but to respond, "Serving the people, serving the people! Heh heh!"

All the way back, Yang Fan chatted non-stop while Zhang Miao had no choice but to reply, gritting his teeth through the entire conversation. Only after arranging for Yang Fan to be stitched up and settled in the hospital did Zhang Miao finally breathe a sigh of relief—at last, he was rid of this calamity.

...

A spacious hospital room with high-end amenities—clearly a VIP suite. Standing before Yang Fan was a young woman in a T-shirt and jeans, her long hair reaching her waist, her features exquisitely delicate.

She asked, "Are you coming or not?"

Yang Fan wore an expression as if suffering from constipation. The woman before him was Zhou Yiyi—the very person whose hair he had shaved off in that recent competition. Besides wanting to avoid people after getting his own head shaved, and to better control his strength, another reason for taking on these missions was Zhou Yiyi—he simply didn't know how to face her.

But seeing Zhou Yiyi with her hair cascading down her back, Yang Fan thought he must be hallucinating, or she was wearing a wig. He had seen her with his own eyes in the infirmary that day, utterly distraught and bald.

After a moment's thought, Yang Fan asked, "Never mind that for now—what's up with your hair?"

At that, Zhou Yiyi flared up. "You have the nerve to ask? You ran off so fast that day, and now you want to ask about my hair?"

Yang Fan forced an embarrassed smile. "No, I didn't run away—I just suddenly remembered I’d left the gas on at home!"

Zhou Yiyi was so exasperated she laughed. "Yang Fan, we've known each other a while—do you really think I'm an idiot? If you're going to make excuses, could you at least put some effort into it? Your kind of excuse insults my intelligence."

Yang Fan blushed. His survival instincts had kicked in, and he’d spoken without thinking. "Heh, I wouldn’t dare. Anyway, let’s drop it. Tell me about what you were saying earlier."

He knew he couldn't let the conversation stay on this topic, or he'd lose all advantage.

Zhou Yiyi calmed herself and spoke slowly, "I came to find you because I need your help. I took on a mission—not from the academy but from the military. It’s pretty difficult, so I need backup."

Yang Fan nodded for her to continue.

"The mission is near Nujiang in Yunnan. There’s a beast of unusual power roaming there. The local forces can’t handle it, so the military issued a task. It’s believed the beast has developed intelligence. Its exact level is unknown, but if it’s gained sentience, it’s at least peak second grade, maybe even third. I pulled a lot of strings to get this mission, but there’s no way I can handle it alone. That’s why I’m here."

Yang Fan grew more uneasy as she spoke. A beast? What did that mean? Beasts that had absorbed the world’s spiritual energy and gained intelligence were known as aberrant beasts. Back during the academy’s entrance trial on that island, they’d faced countless wild animals, and even for a first-grade martial student like Yang Fan, it had been a nightmare—those were only slightly mutated creatures, not even first-grade aberrant beasts. And now Zhou Yiyi was talking about a beast at least peak second grade, possibly third? Was she joking?

He said, "Do you know how dangerous this is? We’re not strong enough to take on a peak second-grade aberrant beast! We might not make it back alive!"

Zhou Yiyi replied, "Of course we can’t do it alone, but we have other backup, and it’s not just anyone—they’re all pretty strong too."

Yang Fan eyed her with suspicion. "You’re that confident? Did you rope your sister in?"

Zhou Yiyi rolled her eyes. "If I had my sister, why would I need you? She’s a fourth-grade martial master. Taking down a peak second-grade beast would be a walk in the park for her. You’ll see who I found when we get there. So, are you in or not?"

Yang Fan considered. Zhou Yiyi seemed confident, so perhaps it wasn’t a suicide mission after all—she wasn’t foolish, and she clearly wasn’t tired of living.

He asked, "What are the rewards? How will they be divided?"

At this, Zhou Yiyi’s eyes lit up. "We get the beast’s body, plus a million in cash and one Qihai Fruit!"

Yang Fan frowned. The rewards were tempting—the Qihai Fruit was a precious aid for advancing from second to third grade, and the cash was generous. He wasn’t sure what use the beast’s body might have, but as a reward, it couldn’t be insignificant. However, from Zhou Yiyi’s words, it was clear there were more people involved. That meant the rewards would have to be split; if there were too many, each person would get less, but too few meant greater risk.

He was torn, truly torn.

Zhou Yiyi watched him, eyes wide and full of expectation. Yang Fan didn’t know all the details, but she did. If he didn’t go, the others she’d found might not all make it back alive.

While Yang Fan pondered, Zhou Yiyi didn’t rush him. She pulled a chair up to the bedside and waited patiently for his answer.