Chapter 72: The Assassin Returns-After Leaving the Mountain, My True Identity Was Exposed by My Senior Sister!(A Cool Scene upon the Desert)

"If you want to live, it's simple—five million each," Ye Fei considered for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"You... You're extorting us!" Hong Yueqiang's face was flushed, his lips pale and dry. "Five million? I can't make that much in two years!"

Ye Fei sneered and glanced at Chen Yu. "Is that true?"

"The cost of producing medicine is extremely low, but the profits are often hundreds or thousands of times higher. Most of what the three of them make is just health supplements, and the profits are much higher than traditional medicine," Chen Yu replied softly. "Five million is actually a modest demand."

"Chen Yu, you—" Hong Yueqiang's face twisted in anger, but Ye Fei shot him a glare that quickly silenced him.

"Then ten million each." Ye Fei waved his hand impatiently, pointing to Yu Qianlong lying in the corner. "Ten million per person. Pay for him too, then get out. Don't bother me with any more nonsense. If you do, each of you will leave a hand behind."

Faced with this domineering threat, Hong Yueqiang and Guo Hongfeng hesitated only for a moment before fear pushed them to transfer the money immediately.

Their faces were as sour as if they'd swallowed filth, and they hurriedly dragged Yu Qianlong and his bodyguard out of Full Moon Restaurant.

To stay any longer would surely cost them even more.

"Aren't you afraid they'll come back for revenge?" Chen Yu straightened her silk stockings, lips curled in a smirk. "When that happens, I won't be able to protect you."

"Right now, I'm the one protecting you." Ye Fei boldly rested his hand on her thigh, grinning. "There's a saying: 'If you play, you pay.' Since they tried to take advantage of you, they should be prepared for others to do the same to them."

"Why help me?" Chen Yu suddenly asked in a calm voice.

"Because I want to win your heart. Believe it?" Ye Fei replied.

The corners of Chen Yu's lips lifted as her beautiful eyes drew close to Ye Fei's face.

Their gazes met, and the air grew charged with a subtle intimacy.

"You don't even dare to kiss me, and you want to win me over? Keep dreaming."

Chen Yu lightly slapped Ye Fei's cheek and stood up.

"If your face weren't red, I'd actually believe you had the guts to let me kiss you," Ye Fei chuckled, teasing.

Chen Yu shot him an icy glare.

She was just about to leave when the hotel manager entered from the lobby.

He wore a polite smile, his demeanor refined. "The owner would like to invite you both to a private room for a chat."

"Your owner? Who is that?" Ye Fei hesitated. "I don't think I know him."

"You'll recognize him when you meet," the manager replied carefully, bowing to Ye Fei and leading them toward the staircase at the corner.

Ye Fei intended to leave, but Chen Yu, her curiosity piqued, pulled him along.

Perhaps because the hotel was so luxurious, even the corners of the staircase were adorned with expensive paintings, a testament to the owner's extraordinary wealth.

The second floor was reserved for private residences, decorated mainly in Western style—grand and opulent.

The manager stopped in front of a tightly closed door, smiling. "The owner is inside. I won't join you."

Chen Yu nodded slightly, stepping in front of Ye Fei and pushing open the door.

They entered together.

But then—

Ye Fei's pupils contracted, every hair on his body standing on end.

He reacted instantly, grabbing Chen Yu and shoving her behind him.

The next second, a flash of cold steel descended from behind the door.

Shhhhh!

The sudden machete struck Ye Fei squarely on the back, tearing open a wound over twenty centimeters long. Blood gushed forth like a torrent.

"Ah!" Chen Yu burst into tears, screaming hysterically. Before she could react, a sharp pain seized her neck, and she blacked out.

"Huff... huff..." Ye Fei panted, bending down to rest Chen Yu's body against the door frame.

He felt the intense pain in his back, staring at the two figures emerging from the corner with murderous intent.

One was tall, the other thin, each with a scar across their face. Their skin was dark, arms thick as polished tires, machetes gripped in their hands. The air around them pulsed with a domineering, fierce energy.

When he entered, Ye Fei's attention had been entirely on Chen Yu, leaving him no time to channel his inner energy to form a protective shield. That was how the machete managed to inflict such a grievous wound.

This was the first time he had been injured since descending the mountain.

"You two... You're assassins sent by Situ Feng, aren't you?" Ye Fei asked coldly, using his internal energy to staunch the bleeding.

He vaguely recalled seeing information in the mailbox that Situ Feng had raised two scar-faced brothers from childhood, inseparable, isolated from the world, endlessly practicing machete techniques deep in the mountains.

These must be the two before him.

He had set out unprepared, never expecting these two to hide in this restaurant.

Nor did he anticipate that revenge would come so swiftly.

"Die!"

The tall and thin pair gave Ye Fei no chance to recover. They lunged from either side, machetes raised high, the sharp force of their blades whistling through the air like a surging waterfall.

Ye Fei braced himself, quickly releasing his inner energy. His eyes were instantly shrouded in a pale blue mist.

In that instant, the movements of the two attackers seemed tortoise-slow in Ye Fei's vision.

Whoosh!

Two fierce gusts swept past his ears, mere centimeters away, slicing off a few strands of his hair.

He remained calm, adjusting his breath to its peak, fingers pressed together like a blade. He slipped between their pincer attack, his mystical gaze locking onto faint red points on their thighs, and struck with all his strength.

Seeing Ye Fei dodge their encirclement so easily, both attackers' expressions changed.

Blade and sword techniques demand speed, finesse, and force—drawing power from the whole body. Had Ye Fei chosen to confront them head-on, they were confident they could hack him to pieces within a minute.

But Ye Fei moved with a speed and precision they could not comprehend, leaping behind them.

Then, both felt a sharp pain in their legs, as if seized by cramps.

Those who practice the blade for years have a fatal weakness: all their strength is concentrated in their arms, leaving their lower body vulnerable.

Martial artists fear nothing more than an unstable base.

Ye Fei's strike sent them stumbling, their balance lost, crashing to the floor.

He then stomped fiercely at their backs.

Strike while they're down—take their lives.

Once he landed the blows, the fight would be decided.

Yet the tall and thin pair, veterans of countless battles, sensed Ye Fei's intent. Without turning, they drew their arms together, positioning their blades behind their backs, the sharp edge aimed at Ye Fei's soles.