The Hidden Evil: Villainous Cultivator

A thick, damp fog rolled over the dimly lit streets of Beijing, shrouding the city in an eerie silence. Su Meng sat in the back of a sleek black car, the glow of his phone illuminating his face. His fingers trembled slightly as he dialed a number he had never dared to call before. The moment the line connected, a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Who is this?"

"I have a job for you," Su Meng said, trying to mask the nervousness in his voice. "There's a guy. I want him gone."

The voice chuckled darkly. "And who might this be?"

"Ye Feng," Su Meng said, hatred dripping from his words.

There was a brief pause. "He must have pissed you off pretty bad if you're coming to us."

Su Meng clenched his jaw. "Name your price."

"We'll take care of it. Meet at the old warehouse near the docks tonight. We'll have a special arrangement for your little problem."

Su Meng grinned. Finally, Ye Feng would be erased from his life.

That night, Ye Feng lay in his bed, his breathing slow and steady, his face peaceful in the moonlight filtering through the window. He had sensed them long before they entered—silent shadows slipping into his room, their movements precise, trained. They reeked of blood and gun oil.

A hand clamped over his mouth, another pressed a chloroform-soaked cloth against his nose. He inhaled just enough to fake unconsciousness, letting his body go limp. One of the men whispered, "He's out. Move fast."

They hoisted him up, carefully carrying him through the window onto the rooftop, where another man waited with a rope. They descended into the alley below, loading him into a black van. The doors slammed shut, the engine roared to life, and they sped off into the night.

Ye Feng listened. The way they spoke, the way they moved—he could tell they were professionals. But they had made one fatal mistake.

They had taken him alive.

The van screeched to a halt. Strong arms yanked him out, and the bag was ripped from his head.

He stood in the middle of a vast warehouse, its rusted metal beams creaking under the weight of time. Around him stood more than twenty men, all armed, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust. At the far end of the room sat a man in a leather jacket, a deep scar running across his left eye. The gang leader.

He leaned forward, studying Ye Feng with an amused expression. "So you're the kid causing trouble for my client? You don't look like much."

Ye Feng's cold eyes locked onto his. "And you don't look like someone who should be leading a gang."

The men around him bristled, some gripping their weapons tighter. The gang leader laughed. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But I hope you understand—you're going to die here."

Ye Feng's lips curved into a chilling smirk. "That's what I was hoping to hear."

Before the leader could react, Ye Feng moved. His body became a blur, his foot shooting up into the face of the nearest thug. Bone crunched, and the man flew back, blood splattering the cold concrete.

The warehouse erupted into chaos.

A man swung a metal pipe at Ye Feng's head. He ducked, grabbed the attacker's arm, and twisted it with an audible snap. The man howled in pain before Ye Feng drove his elbow into his throat, silencing him permanently.

Two more rushed him. Ye Feng sidestepped, kicking the knee of one with enough force to shatter it. The second swung a knife, but Ye Feng caught his wrist, forced the blade downward, and buried it into the man's own stomach. The thug gasped, his body convulsing before dropping lifelessly.

Blood painted the floor as more thugs charged. Ye Feng grabbed a crowbar from the ground, swinging it with brutal precision, caving in the skull of one attacker. Another lunged with a machete, but Ye Feng stepped aside, catching his wrist and snapping it backward. The man screamed as the blade was forced into his own throat, blood gurgling from his mouth as he collapsed.

A gunshot rang out. Ye Feng rolled, avoiding the bullet, and surged forward. He wrenched the gun from the shooter's hand, slamming the butt into his jaw, breaking teeth and sending him sprawling. Without hesitation, Ye Feng fired twice, putting him down for good.

A trio of thugs tried to overwhelm him, one wielding a chain. Ye Feng dodged the first swing, caught the chain mid-air, and yanked the wielder forward, driving his knee into his ribs hard enough to cave them in. As the man crumpled, gasping for air, Ye Feng spun, stabbing a knife into the second thug's eye socket, twisting it cruelly. The third backed away in terror, but Ye Feng was already on him, snapping his neck in one fluid motion.

The remaining men hesitated, fear creeping into their expressions.

"Kill him!" the gang leader roared, pulling out a gun.

Three men charged. Ye Feng ripped a knife from a fallen attacker, slashed one man's throat, then threw the weapon into the forehead of another. The third swung at him with a bat. Ye Feng dodged, grabbed his head, and slammed it into a nearby crate, leaving a crimson smear as the man collapsed.

More men poured in from the sides. Ye Feng felt a knife slash across his back but ignored it, elbowing one attacker so hard his nose caved in. He kicked another's kneecap, twisting it at an unnatural angle. Blood sprayed the walls as he tore through the remaining thugs, one by one.

It was a gruesome sight if any sane person was present here he would have vomited just by looking at the blood on ground , and if we combine it with the bodies that were littered here and how ruthlessly they were killed , it was a scene looking straight out from hell. But Ye Feng continued his killing spree without any care.