"There’s no need for you to worry about that, my time is precious. Can we start now?" the youth said with an indifferent glance at the ceiling, his voice languid and careless. The rope suddenly fell at a high speed, stopping just half a centimeter above the ground this time, making onlookers’ hearts nearly leap out. Ning Zihuan didn’t even blink, a sly curve still playing on his lips, "Master Pei, how about it? Isn’t it thrilling?" Pei Qinghan smiled, that smile seemingly stuck to his face, giving no hint of any flaw, leaving others unable to tell whether he was happy or angry. It was truly infuriating. With a flick of his toes, the dagger flipped in mid-air and gently landed in Pei Qinghan’s hand. Pei Qinghan just looked at the dagger in his hand, his fingertips brushed across its blade—truly a good dagger, sharp enough to sever hair and slice through iron as if it were mud. Ning Zihuan’s gaze narrowed slightly, and he secretly gestured toward a certain spot. "The dagger is fine, but it’s a waste in the hands of someone who doesn’t know how to use it," Pei Qinghan said with a light sigh. Ning Zihuan chuckled coldly, at death’s door and still only able to flap his lips. Pei Qinghan suddenly raised his eyes to look at him, "Third Young Master, do you know why your elder sister has never won?" Ning Zihuan stared at him, not saying a word. Pei Qinghan’s lips curled up in a slight smile that seemed gentle and soft, "Because she’s a smart person." Ning Zihuan’s brow furrowed slightly. "And you, you seem smart, but actually..." Ning Zihuan saw his thin lips part, and in that moment, four words surfaced in his mind, "Incredibly stupid!" He suddenly clenched his fists, suppressing the malevolence at the bottom of his heart. In that moment of distraction, Pei Qinghan suddenly threw the dagger toward the rope with a swift, precise, and fierce motion. The next moment, gunshots rang out; Pei Qinghan had already moved aside in a flash, dodging through the screaming and panicking crowd with agility. The rope was cut by the dagger, and Yuesheng tumbled to the ground. As the men in black rushed toward him, he gave a powerful tug, snapping the rope. He kicked one of the approaching men flying, picked up a fallen stick, and swung it ferociously to the left and right, dropping two of the men in black where they stood, unmoving. The entire hall became a chaotic mess in an instant. Ning Zihuan stood his ground, eyes firmly fixed on Pei Qinghan, a cold and fierce light suddenly flaring in his gaze. He reached for the gun at his waist and started walking toward Pei Qinghan. "Brother Han..." Yuesheng, seeing Ning Zihuan heading toward Pei Qinghan, quickly ran toward Ning Zihuan, the stick in his hand charged with overwhelming force, aimed straight at Ning Zihuan’s head. Ning Zihuan didn’t even turn around. As the stick was raised, a "bang" of a gunshot echoed; a bullet entered Yuesheng’s stick-holding right hand, and he froze in place. The next moment, the stick fell to the ground and Yuesheng staggered, barely managing to stay upright while clutching his wound. Ning Zihuan smirked with a scornful laugh. At that moment, Pei Qinghan, who had initially been standing still, had suddenly vanished. Ning Zihuan tensed up, and in the next moment, he hastily dodged to the side. Although he was slightly late, and his cheek was grazed by the passing punch, he ultimately avoided a fatal blow. He glared coldly at Pei Qinghan standing before him and touched his grazed cheek, where a trickle of blood began to seep out. "I was right not to underestimate you, Pei Qinghan, but a year from today will be the day you die," he said, and hurled his fist toward Pei Qinghan. The two immediately erupted into combat, fists and feet colliding with sounds of thuds and scrapes, and their lightning-fast movements dazzled the onlookers. The sniper hidden in the shadows couldn’t get a clear shot, becoming increasingly anxious. Just then, a shadow crept stealthily up, silently wrapping around the neck of the sniper and tightening fiercely; the person hadn’t even reacted before meeting the King of Hell. For original chapters go to n̷o̷v̷e̷l̷f̷i̷r̷e̷.net The two combatants swiftly separated. Ning Zihuan touched the wound on his face, grimacing with a ferocious look, and glared at the man across from him, still impeccably dressed, pure and untarnished, making him grind his teeth in anger. Yuesheng, clutching his wound, limped over to Pei Qinghan’s side and glared venomously at Ning Zihuan, "Brother Han, let me deal with this man." Pei Qinghan glanced at his profusely bleeding arm, his eyes darkening, "You’re hurt, this is no place to linger, let’s go." "Leave your life behind before you go." As the words dropped, Ning Zihuan lunged again. With his extraordinary hearing, Ning Zihuan shifted his gaze; his body somersaulted in midair as a bullet grazed his arm. "Fuck..." Ning Zihuan glared malevolently toward the second floor. It was in this moment that Pei Qinghan, pulling Yuesheng, rapidly moved toward the exit. Each time Ning Zihuan tried to catch up, he was thwarted by gunfire. While this shooter was not a true sniper and posed no real threat, it was enough to hinder his movements.