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Chapter 250 Femme Fatale

Near the outskirts of Pingshun Town was a thirty-three storey tall building. It was originally close to the town center until the shift of the earth’s crust moved it away from the heart of the little borough.

It was then purchased by a rich landlord to be used as a house of pleasure.

Being out of reach of the law, and far enough in front of larger social issues to be just out of reach of local politics, this place became a heaven for warriors and wealthy folks to come indulge in exotic epicurean pleasures of wild beasts.

It was boisterous and noisy on the thirty-second storey of this lavish alehouse, but every patron who was there could not help but shift their gaze furtively towards one direction.

On a table by the window sat a woman with the grace and beauty of a fairy of the High Heavens. She nibbled at her food, although the faintly sour frown on her forehead indicated that the savories were nowhere near agreeable to her appetite.

She was so breathtakingly gorgeous—soft, silver hair with a crystal-clear luster, a pair of eyes that rippled like the waves of a bubbling brook, tender and supple skin, and a milky-white dress tailored in antiquated fashion—that any man would feel their heart skipping a beat at the merest glance of her.

If there was a flaw in her, that would be her cold, aloof demeanor which kept anyone at arm’s length.

But not everyone was daunted by her frigidity. One such instance, was a handsome and remarkable young man who approached her with casual but steady steps.

He was a direct son of Clan Leng’s consortium of enterprises. The Lengs held riches that dwarfed even kingdoms and empires and the man worth hundreds of billions of gold, more so, because of his youth. Additionally, he wielded great fortune and luck, having consumed magical fruits himself, and with a renowned teacher guiding him, he became a Human King just a few days ago in just the tender age of thirty and that caused quite a stir in the neighborhood.

“I gather this seat is empty, my lady?” Leng Bufan asked with a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He looked polite, reserved, and nowhere near eager or cold; just nice.

The woman peered at him with eyes swirling with unknown emotions, then she lowered her gaze back to her opulent glass of red wine. She looked curious. As curious as a cat like it was her first time seeing red wine. She lifted the glass and took a nip, only for her brows to twist with revolt and she burst out everything in a scarlet-red spray.

Leng Bufan was just standing by the table when it happened and he took the full blast of the spray and dots of red speckled on his white suit like red petals of plum blossom blooming proudly.

The silver-haired woman seemed utterly oblivious to her soiling the clothes of others, but Leng Bufan looked hardly perturbed at his clothes being sullied.

“What a terrible beverage!” the young woman muttered under her breath, although it sounded clear and pitched like pearls falling on jaded stone.

Leng Bufan’s brows furrowed. This invaluable red wine was a concoction of the royal family of a certain kingdom, made from grapes watered with cow’s milk and meticulously cultivated under the careful hands of highly-skilled careermen. The yield was scarce and Clan Leng had expended many resources to procure some as the flagship product of their establishment. Most people would have cowered when they heard the price of this rare vintage, let alone criticizing it as “terrible”.

Leng Bufan strolled to the chair opposite the woman and sat down.

“Where are you from, my lady?” That was his usual opening.

But what would have sounded trite and unimaginative from the mouths of others sounded like music from Leng Bufan’s lips, for countless daughters from other wealthy and rich families were swooning to hear the phrase themselves.

The silver-haired woman looked as if she had hardly heard a word, preferring instead to study the slab of steak before her. It was not ordinary beef, but the meat of a mutated beast that had taken more than ten Grandmasters to slay.

The woman wrinkled her nose and sniffed, only to push the plate of steak aside and averted her gaze as if it was something tawdry and unpleasant.

The patrons around grinned secretly on the inside. They might not have the courage to strike up a conversation with the woman, nor did they wanted to see anyone succeed.

“You seem dissatisfied with all this food, my lady? I guess that means I should dismiss the chefs here,” said Leng Bufan as smooth as silk.

He looked really like the best match any woman could ever hope for—looks, wealth and power, remarkable levels of magical strength—everything.

Only, the silver-haired woman looked hardly interested to even give a response, as if the food and wine would have tasted better without Leng Bufan’s presence.

This would have been a sound blow to the pride of any man. But Leng Bufan seemed hardly bothered nor angered. At any rate, he perpetually maintained a benign smile on his face.

“Can you see that the lady wishes not to speak to you, you little wretch? Even I feel annoyed by your squeaks and hisses,” boomed a jealous and burly man with an unkempt bushy of a beard.

“Get out, brat! You’re an eyesore here. I bet your father will be embarrassed by the way you accost girls. Look at you; your pale face shows that you must be unhealthy. That makes you all the more useless,” said another beefy man with well-contoured muscles.

“I despise good-for-nothing rich brats like you,” added another, “You’re nothing but pretty trinkets which brings hardly any use to anyone. You would have a better chance at impressing bosomy whores at sordid taverns than here! I bet people there will gladly believe anything you say. Who knows? You might even win a fat red packet as a prize!”

With one heckle, more jeers and catcalls ridiculing Leng Bufan followed.

Leng Bufan maintained a smile on his face, although it grew deceptively thicker.

“Do you like watching dogs get butchered, my lady?” he asked suddenly, his tone still reserved and gentlemanly.

Sadly, the silver-haired woman still refused to answer.

“Worthless brat. Who do you think you’re calling a dog?!” yelled one of the hecklers angrily.

One of them stood up brusquely, looking positively angered as if he intended to teach Leng Bufan a lesson.

Leng Bufan’s hands moved to his clothes and gently smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle as he got up. He bent slightly, lowering himself closer to the silver-haired woman and apologized, “I do not wish for anything as squalid as dog’s blood to sully such a pleasant ambiance. But I’m afraid the incessant barking is one tad too insufferable.”

He vanished as soon as he finished, appearing a split-second later right beside the beefy man with well-built muscles. With a quick wave of his hand, he magically drew up a fork which was beside a plate of steak on the table there into his hand and he stabbed furiously at the man with it.

Puff!

Blood spattered everywhere and the fork had driven cleanly through the man’s temples.

With his protective aura, Leng Bufan’s clothes were hardly stained with any blood.

Swoosh!

A sharp scream ripped through the silence, and the steak knife turned into a bolt of light, blazing with cold fury, and shot through the throat of the burly man with a bushy beard.

His figure flickered, creating a blur of mirages as he darted around at unbelievable speed, butchering one man after another as their lifeless corpses plopped like rag dolls onto the ground.

Every single man who had heckled and ridiculed him was dead.

Horrified beyond speech, the entire tavern fell silent as a necropolis that even the clatter of a needle on the floor could be distinctly heard.

Who would have thought a fair and handsome young man could be so cruel and brutal while wielding such inhuman strength and power.

Those who had remained silent during the fracas earlier were quietly glad they had stayed their tongue, lest they too would have paid the price of their insolence.

“That’s a lesson you’ll remember forever. This is what we call ‘femme fatale’,” said an elderly man to a little boy.

“Is there anyone else interested to bark? Give it a try!” Leng Bufan called out, his smiling expression belying his steely-calm tone.

No one dared to speak a word.

Leng Bufan surveyed the floor with a hint of satisfaction. He loved being in control of others’ life and death. He could have killed the hecklers earlier with a few simple magical bolts, but he preferred to take their lives with his bare hands, feeling that this afforded him an indescribable euphoria.

A few portly servants—all of them dressed in tight fitting clothes—appeared to quietly dispose of the bodies.

He looked around and addressed the remaining patrons, “My apologies for causing the unpleasantness earlier. Please stay on. Your bills today shall be on me.”

He had just finished when Chu Xun, led here by the Evocation of Heavenly Secrets, walked through the doors of this tavern.

“Bastard, you really pick a good timing to appear and eat for free!” Leng Bufan blurted quietly when he spied Chu Xun.

It was hardly a funny joke, but out of fear for Leng Bufan’s barbarity, and his favor for footing their bills, everyone responded with a not-so-hearty laugh.

The silver-haired woman was intently studying the decorative crystal vase on the table when she felt Chu Xun’s presence and she quickly took out a thin white veil to conceal her alluring features.

Her deadpan eyes rippled, betraying a hint of emotion. Why was she covering herself, she almost asked.

Chu Xun, however, hardly paid any heed to everyone’s laughter. Instead, his gaze locked on the silver-hair woman past the shoulders of Leng Bufan before him.

Hua Qingwu’s spirit must be with this silver-haired woman, and he could feel it. He was so certain that his breathing began to race.

“I’ve found your soul, Little Wu. You’ll be able to wake up soon,” he muttered to himself.

And Chu Xun walked towards the silver-haired woman.

Leng Bufan instinctively put on his proud and haughty self, not realizing that he had unwittingly shed off his earlier calm and suave demeanor.

The stranger from outside—whom he had mistaken as a pauper coming to thank him for a free meal—passed right by him as if he was invisible, with not so much as a look at him, and the smug grin on his face froze.

When he finally realized what was really happening, he spun abruptly on his heels, the grin on his face already evaporated.

Everyone else stared at Chu Xun. Some braced with pity and fear at what could befall him, while some gloated quietly.

Because Chu Xun nonchalantly plopped himself into the chair opposite the silver-haired woman—the very same which Leng Bufan had been sitting just moments ago.

“Look, boy,” said the elderly man in the corner to the child again, stressing again the lesson he just taught, “Remember what I told you, ‘Femme fatale’.”

Oblivious of everything around him, Chu Xun looked closely at the silver-haired woman facing him. She wore a veil that concealed face, leaving only a pair of eyes as deep and distant as the depths of a lake, but he could almost feel her beauty across the gossamer piece of fabric.

But why, he almost asked aloud. How could Hua Qingwu’s soul be with this woman? Yet Chu Xun had no intention for answers. Getting back Little Wu’s spirit was all that mattered to him. He would then only need to look for the Soul-Curing Flower to restore her soul back into her physical body.

Somehow, Chu Xun felt not a tinge of animosity from the woman sitting at the other side of the table. If anything, he felt an indescribable sensation of familiarity. But that could be due to Hua Qingwu’s spirit in her possession, Chu Xun dismissed.

At the same time, the silver-haired woman was quietly surveying Chu Xun herself. Her thin, curving brows frowned faintly and her eyes candidly betrayed a hint of disgust. Immediately, Chu Xun knew that he was unwelcomed.

The woman shifted her gaze back to the crystal vase.

But he could not understand. Why the sudden acrimony? Nevertheless, it mattered not to him; he only wanted to retrieve Hua Qingwu’s spirit. At whatever cost.

“You seem to have something very important to me,” said Chu Xun, trying his best to embellish his words to sound cordial, although negotiations were hardly his forte.

The silver-haired woman looked as if she had barely caught anything he said, yet she exuded an unmistakable air of hostility.

Chu Xun felt himself tensing instinctively. The woman quickly concealed her aura, but that sudden burst of malice alerted to him that the woman was extremely powerful, if not dangerous.

“I speak the truth. It is very, very important to me. Please make me an offer and I shall do my best to fulfill that offer,” he said, feeling strange. Somehow, he sensed as if he could never bear to strike at the woman. His original plan was to storm in and seize his quarry and pummel him or her into submission, but yet he felt as if it was the last thing he would do right now.

“Really?” responded the woman suddenly, her gaze at Chu Xun filled with derision.

“Yes. I’ll do anything to fulfill it,” confirmed Chu Xin again firmly.

“Very well. Kill yourself then. That is my offer,” said the woman with as much casualness as it was something as trivial as taking a bite or drinking a cup of water.

Stunned, Chu Xun gasped, “Why?”

The woman eyed him quietly. He could not see the expression on the other side of the veil, but he could feel the corners of her lips twisting with thick contempt.