Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Chief Instructor of Huangpu

"Follow her," Qin Yang ordered without hesitation. A soul far surpassing the third level was an exhilarating find for him. Although Hell was only just beginning to take shape, the chance to converse with such a high-level soul was undeniably thrilling. The three men behind him also quickened their pace.

The girl, clutching the wooden box, darted left and right through the antique street, with a few people in tow. Thanks to his Yin-Yang Eyes, Qin Yang could pinpoint her exact location, while the three men in black had vanished without a trace.

No one knew how long they had been running, but finally, in a deserted spot, the girl stopped, gasping for breath. Even so, her hands clung tightly to the wooden box, as if terrified someone might snatch it away.

Noticing someone behind her, the girl spun around nimbly, her eyes locking onto Qin Yang. "Who are you?"

"Wow, what a beautiful young lady," Qin Yang paused, struck by her flawless skin and the fullness of her chest, which made his blood surge. The two budding points made the fire in his belly burn even hotter. Hastily, he withdrew his Yin-Yang Eyes—if he kept looking, something disastrous would surely happen. Only now did he turn his attention to her face: flushed with sweat, her cheeks glowed like ripe apples, inviting imagination. Her small mouth parted as she caught her breath, lending her a unique charm.

"Who are you?" she repeated, stepping back instinctively, feeling as though she stood exposed before his eyes.

Qin Yang coughed to cover his embarrassment. "I'm not a bad person, don't worry. I'm just interested in the box you're holding."

"Damn," the girl muttered, hugging the box tighter. Without giving Qin Yang a chance to speak, she suddenly lunged forward, leaping with a kick. He could feel the wind whistling past, a testament to her strength. He retreated a step, pleading, "Don't hit me, I just—" But she ignored him, her attacks flowing like water, each move laced with deadly intent, leaving no room for mercy.

Qin Yang didn't want to fight and could only keep backing away.

"Damn it, I see you're a woman, so I'm holding back. Don't push your luck," Qin Yang cursed as her aggression escalated.

Her brows arched, and she pounced, both palms striking toward his abdomen with tremendous force. Qin Yang's anger flared; he twisted his hands, grabbing her wrists. She froze, but he immediately felt a strange strength in her wrists, trying to break free from his grasp. With a cold laugh, he unleashed a surge of wild energy, crackling through his body, draining her strength in an instant. With a cry of pain, she collapsed to the ground.

Only then did Qin Yang rein in his power, rolling his neck and muttering, "I told you not to fight. Some people just don't know what's good for them."

"Hmm?" At that moment, Qin Yang sensed a gust at his back, his hair standing on end. He grabbed the girl and lunged forward, barely dodging an attack from behind. Looking back, he saw the three men in black suits had returned, one of them launching the assault. Seeing their unreasonable approach, Qin Yang's fury boiled over. The colossal strength he had gained from absorbing seven hundred souls surged through him again. In the sunlight, faint trails of black smoke seemed to swirl from his pores.

"Dammit!" Qin Yang roared, charging forward. The opponent didn't take him seriously, a sneer curling his lips. His right foot dug into the ground, power pooling in his right fist as he barreled forward. Qin Yang wouldn't tolerate such arrogance. He met the attack head-on; with a few sharp cracks, the man's face twisted in pain as his right arm trembled.

Old Qin followed with a kick, sending the assailant flying three or four meters away.

"A monster?" the girl behind him muttered, her lips twitching. These three were no weaklings, yet before Qin Yang, they had no chance to fight back? The man struggled to get up, but Qin Yang was already advancing. The other two, startled, rushed to flank him, forcing Qin Yang to retreat a step.

"Let's go," the man knocked to the ground urged, stopping his companions' attack. Supported by his friends, he fled in haste. Qin Yang didn't pursue, spitting and cursing, "Cowards! If I don't show my strength, do you think I'm some sick kitten? Idiots who don't know their own limits."

Watching Qin Yang curse like a street vendor, the girl felt her head spinning. How could he switch attitudes so quickly?

As his tirade soothed his mood, he turned, smiling, all traces of ferocity and rage gone. With a grin, he said, "Little sister, let me see the box you're holding, okay? I promise I won't take it. Of course, if you refuse, I'll knock you out and leave you here."

"Shameless," the girl retorted angrily.

Yet, glancing around, she saw no way to escape. After a moment's hesitation, she handed the box to Qin Yang.

"Thank you," Qin Yang said, taking the box. It was simply a sandalwood box with no opening, a square container carved with intricate, mysterious patterns. Qin Yang carefully placed it before him, stepped back a pace or two, and activated his Yin-Yang Eyes. Instantly, that proud figure appeared before him once more.

"To maintain a tangible soul and emit such powerful energy waves—this must be a level-five spirit," the steward said, no longer excited. "Try to communicate with him. A level-five spirit is a tremendous help to you."

Qin Yang nodded, gazing at the proud figure. He took a deep breath and said, "May I ask who you are, honored elder?"

"You can speak to me?" The level-five soul's voice echoed directly in his mind. "Are you a spirit as well?"

"No, no, I'm still alive. It's just some special circumstances—well, I can communicate with spirits," Qin Yang replied quickly, switching to mental dialogue. "I happened to sense your presence just now, so I followed. You're the first spirit I've met with consciousness; the others are too weak to even form their bodies."

"Oh?" The spirit was clearly intrigued, scrutinizing Qin Yang. "You are strange; you possess a power that attracts me, though it's too weak now. But I can feel it growing."

"That's Hell," Qin Yang explained bluntly. "A place where spirits reside. But at the moment, my Hell isn't strong enough to sustain your presence. May I ask, elder, who are you?"

"My name is Han Mu Feng. I was the chief instructor at Huangpu Academy." As he spoke, a hint of pride flashed in Han Mu Feng's eyes.

"Huangpu... chief instructor?"

Qin Yang swallowed hard. Was he joking? This was someone from decades ago, and not just anyone. He pressed on, "Instructor Han, may I ask why you are inside this box?"

"I don't know," Han Mu Feng replied frankly. "After perishing alongside thirty-two Japanese special forces in World War II, I've been trapped in this box, unable to leave or communicate. I never expected someone could finally see me today."

"A national hero, then," Qin Yang flattered cautiously. "Might you consider leaving the box, Instructor Han?"

"You want me to enter your Hell, your mind?" Han Mu Feng's tone was half mocking, half amused. "You're too weak."

Hearing this, Qin Yang felt a wave of helplessness. Indeed, a powerful level-five spirit would overwhelm his level-one Hell. To reach level five would require an unimaginable number of souls. Recruiting such a spirit was still a distant dream. Han Mu Feng continued, "But if you can take care of my descendant, I can wait until your strength grows enough to enter Hell."

"Your descendant?" Qin Yang glanced at the girl behind him. "Is it her?"

"Yes," Han Mu Feng's eyes softened. "She is my elder brother's only descendant, the last child of the Han family from Huangpu. If you can protect her, I will help you."

"Help me?" Qin Yang was taken aback.

Han Mu Feng explained, "You possess vast internal strength, but only know how to use brute force. While I'm a military instructor, I learned some martial arts from my elder brother. I could teach you."

"Who is your elder brother?" Qin Yang asked, curiosity piqued, noting the pride with which Han Mu Feng spoke of him.

Han Mu Feng declared, "The chief martial arts instructor of Huangpu, Han Mu Xia!"

"Damn it, I've run into a big shot," Qin Yang muttered, dumbfounded.

Han Mu Xia—who was he? One of the top ten masters of the late Qing, and more importantly, when Old Master Zhou first entered Huangpu to study health and martial arts, he apprenticed under Han Mu Xia! Which meant, the man before him was, in fact, Old Master Zhou's uncle in the strictest sense.