Coming straight in with accusations, flaunting his status as a formal investigator, pulling rank—was it really worth showing off just because of a few missions and a couple of monsters?
Cao Yuan had originally wanted to say something, but after hearing Lu Ding’s words, he simply shut up.
Qiu Tianrang leapt down from the treetop.
“You dare repeat what you just said!?”
As soon as he released his aura, the sharp pressure swept across the area, cutting into everyone's skin like blades.
Lu Ding just found him amusing.
And what exactly would repeating it prove?
Was this giving himself an excuse not to say it a second time, or was it meant to showcase his dominance with sheer presence and verbal pressure?
If it was the first, then too bad—once Lu Ding said something, not even ten or a hundred repetitions would make him change his words.
“No need for you to hear it once or a hundred times. Someone at your level—Linghai Realm? You’re not even worth mentioning. Let’s do this.”
Lu Ding pointed to a corner outside Caojia Alley, where a large garbage bin was stacked with trash. “One minute. Just one minute. If, within that time, you’re not lying over there, then whatever you say about today, we’ll do it your way.”
Qiu Tianrang narrowed his eyes. “Haven’t seen an intern this arrogant in a long time. You really think you can run rampant in Bao Fan District and no one can put you in your place?”
He had heard of Lu Ding’s name, but so what?
Who here wasn’t a genius?
Who didn’t go for the kill when they fought?
For Qiu Tianrang to be here today meant he wasn’t afraid of Lu Ding in the slightest.
At the end of the day, Lu Ding was just an intern investigator.
No matter how ruthless he was, how far could he go?
Besides, his development was rushed, and he came into cultivation late. If Lu Ding had been born into a family of Cultivators of Qi or had a proper inheritance, maybe Qiu Tianrang would have taken a different approach today.
Lu Ding ignored him completely.
This guy was just dumb—no point in wasting words on him.
Lifting a hand over his shoulder, he held up two fingers and motioned to Yan Feifan behind him.
With a sharp beep, a mechanical voice rang out, clear to everyone present.
[One-minute countdown begins.]
The sound of a sword being drawn rang out. Qiu Tianrang moved fast—but Lu Ding was faster.
With a single kick to Qiu Tianrang’s hand, he forced the sword, which had barely been drawn half a foot, back into its sheath. Then, without missing a beat, he pivoted on his other foot and delivered a devastating horizontal strike.
A figure bent at an unnatural angle before being sent flying, crashing straight into the trash pile. Tissue papers scattered into the air, and the green garbage bins rolled all over the place.
Speed, reaction time, strength, physique—everything came from the body itself.
And for a Cultivator of Qi with some talent to try and compete with Lu Ding—a man whose physical body was outright hacked—at close-quarters combat?
That was just asking for a beating.
If he had kept some distance, maybe he wouldn’t have lost so miserably.
With some breathing room, he might have lasted a few more moves.
Lu Ding chuckled. This kind of lesson had already been proven by their ancestors thousands of years ago.
First rule: Never sheath a weapon that’s too long—especially swords and blades.
Second rule: When drawing your weapon, make sure you have both enough time and enough space.
Otherwise, you’d face one of two outcomes—
Either you’d be chased down like their ancestor, Qin Shi Huang…
Or you’d end up like Qiu Tianrang—sent flying on the spot, knocked unconscious before even drawing your sword, still gripping the hilt with the blade stuck in the scabbard.
Lu Ding’s laughter was full of ridicule.
He turned and walked off. “Feifan, let’s go. Hotpot’s on me. Last time I passed by Dinghao Complex, I caught a whiff of a place that smelled incredible. Let’s give it a try.”
Eating at the Public Security Bureau’s cafeteria every day—Lu Ding was getting sick of it.
Sure, the food was good, and the nutrition was well-balanced, but eating the same thing every day?
In the middle of summer, hotpot was the way to go.
A spicy, bubbling red broth, paired with an ice-cold beer—followed up with a chilled Coke or Sprite after eating?
Now that was satisfying.
The atmosphere at the scene was terrifyingly quiet.
Everyone just stood there, watching Lu Ding leave.
After a moment’s hesitation, Xie Shunan followed after him.
It wasn’t until all of them had gone that Cao Yuan finally dared to rush over to the trash heap, helping Qiu Tianrang up while channeling energy to stabilize his chaotic blood circulation.
The moment Qiu Tianrang regained consciousness—
He instantly unsheathed his sword, sword aura raging as he whipped his head around, searching for Lu Ding.
“Where’s Lu Ding?! Where did he go?!?!”
He honestly hadn’t expected the gap to be this massive.
Sure, Lu Ding had a fearsome reputation, but he had thought that Qiu Tianrang, at the very least, was a Linghai Realm Cultivator of Qi—same as Lu Ding.
Both were investigators from 749 Bureau.
One was an intern, the other was formal.
By all logic, Qiu Tianrang should have won.
And yet, the fight ended in a one-shot knockout.
Yes, Lu Ding had defeated Linghai Realm opponents before.
But come on—random Linghai Realm cultivators out there weren’t the same as those from the 749 Bureau!
Between people, the difference could be greater than between humans and dogs.
But now, the facts were clear.
For other people, the difference mattered.
For Lu Ding? It made no difference at all.
Whoever stood against him—lost.
Cao Yuan suddenly regretted his own greed.
He shouldn't have tried to have it all.
Lu Ding was his enemy.
And his plans for the Xie Family? Completely ruined.
If he had known earlier, he would have just respectfully sent Ye Feng away.
Wouldn’t it have been better if he hadn’t told his big brother anything?!
Too bad there was no medicine for regret.
Looking at Cao Yuan’s silent expression and his current surroundings, memories of what had just happened flooded Qiu Tianrang’s mind.
In his ears, as if he were hallucinating, Lu Ding’s voice echoed—
"One minute. Just one minute. If, within that time, you're not lying over there..."
Qiu Tianrang lowered his head and looked at the sword in his hands.
He still couldn’t believe it—he had lost to Lu Ding without even drawing his sword. And not just lost—he had been utterly, cleanly defeated.
"Wasn't he only at the Zhaoxuan Realm? This is Zhaoxuan?"
Cultivation was like good skincare—you could never tell someone’s true age just by looking.
Lu Ding hadn’t even shown any techniques from the Linghai Realm.
Which made it all the harder for Qiu Tianrang to accept.
“Brother Qiu… are you okay?”
Cao Yuan finally spoke.
“No, seriously, do I look fine?! After today, where am I supposed to put my face?!”
"They call me Ghost’s Bane, so terrifying that even ghosts fear me—but the problem is, now just thinking about Lu Ding gives me a headache! I’m more scared of him than ghosts are of me!!!"
That one kick from Lu Ding had left a trauma.
If they had exchanged a few moves, if Qiu Tianrang had lost after a proper fight, at worst, it would have been a setback—one that would push him to train harder.
And worse—Lu Ding had even told him in advance exactly where he’d be lying.
This wasn’t just a loss.
This was psychological damage.