Chapter Fifty-Two: Why Does It Feel Like Anyone Can Beat Me Up?

Because he hadn’t relied on his wife to fight in his place, nor borrowed Luo Luo’s ability to control forbidden artifacts, this time Du Fang stepped forward with nothing but his own strength to confront the female technician, Number 18, head-on.

She was a nightmare fiend, and Du Fang could not afford to hold back. Even though he knew the body she possessed was not originally hers, he showed no mercy. He understood well that Captain Zhang’s purpose in having him train in real combat was to accustom him to the cruelty of battle.

Though Du Fang’s dreams were mostly pleasant, and he had rarely experienced genuine horror within dream disasters, he was not naïve. Dream disasters were terrifying, and nightmare fiends were merciless.

Dreamwalkers ought to possess compassion, yes—but their mercy should be reserved for the law-abiding citizens under the glow of household lights, not for the fiends that stalked their dreams.

On the ground, the female technician’s body—gashed and streaming blood from the cuts of Du Fang’s playing cards—began to writhe. Her limbs twisted into grotesque shapes, and she scuttled across the floor like a crab, desperately trying to escape.

She was still alive!

A blood-red shadow leaked from within her, forcibly animating her battered body.

“You… you…” the female technician stammered, drenched in blood, her eyes wide with shock and terror. She spun around, only wanting to flee; she had not the slightest will to fight Du Fang.

This was a monster!

Du Fang had already taken down the male manager—what chance did she, a mere low-grade nightmare fiend that had only just escaped from a third-tier disaster, have?

Exhaling, Du Fang darted forward, employing the martial arts his wife had taught him, mustering the last of his dream energy, and manipulating Auntie’s playing cards to cut off the technician’s escape route.

His martial arts training was solid; even without his wife’s intervention, Du Fang’s techniques were formidable. Of course, it helped that the technician had no will to fight left in her, and she quickly fell to his relentless assault.

Crawling desperately, she was subdued and pinned completely by Du Fang.

Suddenly, a wave of heat swept through the hallway.

Du Fang looked up to see Captain Zhang in his dazzling battle form—hair ablaze like living fire, resembling a human lion wreathed in flames, gripping a broken blade wreathed in fire. The spectacle was utterly breathtaking.

The air was thick with the scorched scent of dream energy.

Du Fang drew a deep breath, readily admitting that he was impressed by Zhang’s transformation. Those dreamwalkers with special abilities had transformations that were truly enviable.

“Captain Zhang!” Du Fang called out.

Zhang Changlin, radiating an intimidating aura, looked silently at Du Fang, who had the female technician pinned beneath him. His gaze then shifted to the box where the male manager lay lifeless—and to the lingering aura of a nightmare fiend.

What? The nightmare fiend possessing the manager—was it dealt with? By Du Fang?

Zhang Changlin looked at Du Fang, momentarily speechless.

No wonder he was considered the strongest rookie dreamwalker in thirty years! So, his worries had been unfounded.

“As long as you’re safe,” Zhang Changlin exhaled. At least Du Fang was unharmed, and that was enough to put his mind at ease. If anything had happened to Du Fang due to his own oversight, Zhang would never have forgiven himself.

“Captain Zhang, there’s another nightmare fiend. Aren’t you going to apprehend it?” Du Fang asked in confusion. He had assumed Zhang was already aware of the other fiend’s presence. Could it be that he hadn’t noticed?

Zhang Changlin, about to release his transformed state, nearly had a heart attack at Du Fang’s words.

Another one?

His heart tightened in disbelief. How had he missed it entirely? Had the debauchery of the technicians in the massage parlor dulled his senses? Was he really this careless? What a grave mistake—to have two nightmare fiends lurking right under his nose without his realizing!

Turning toward the corridor, Zhang Changlin’s flames surged. His dream sense radiated in a shockwave, scouring the building.

Found it. This time… was it a client?

Technicians, managers, clients—the nightmare fiends seemed to cover every role in this establishment, spanning the entire chain. Were they born for this massage parlor?

A ruthless glint flashed in Zhang Changlin’s eyes. Tonight, he’d brought Du Fang for field training, and as captain, his pride had taken a serious blow. This last fiend could not be allowed to escape!

The massage parlor exploded into chaos. With Zhang’s transformation and the female technician’s bloody defeat at Du Fang’s hands, panic spread like wildfire among the customers and technicians.

Shrieks, shoving, frantic cries for the police—they echoed endlessly. Some clients, having called the police, broke down in louder sobs, only now remembering where they were.

But Zhang Changlin paid this no mind. The chaos could be handled once the officers arrived. What mattered was that the nightmare fiend must not escape—who knew what havoc it might unleash?

“Stay here. I’ve notified Old Su—he’ll be here soon to take over. Don’t go anywhere,” Zhang instructed.

With that, blade in hand, he dashed toward the box where Old Chang the driver was hiding.

Bang!

A thunderous crash. Zhang Changlin’s flaming form was thrown back, skidding along the ground in a trail of fire.

Old Chang, clutching his bleeding eye, had repelled Zhang with a single blow. As he regained his vision, he began his escape.

His one-eyed gaze fell on Du Fang, filled with terror and dread.

No wonder the master had his sights on this body—it harbored a fallen god, terrifyingly powerful!

“Fallen god…” Old Chang muttered, fear seeping from his very soul.

Du Fang raised his head and met his gaze. With a calm, indifferent look, he sent a shiver of unspeakable horror down Old Chang’s spine.

Old Chang trembled all over, abandoning the battered Zhang Changlin. In an instant, he turned into a shadow and fled toward the exit.

Zhang Changlin was furious.

Damn it! I got careless and took another beating!

In his fire-lion form, Zhang’s temper was volatile, and now he was so angry he felt he might explode on the spot. Did it seem like everyone could beat him up?

Enraged, still clad in a bathrobe and gripping his blade, Zhang stormed out in pursuit.

Du Fang hesitated but did not follow. He stayed behind, keeping watch over the severely wounded Number 18.

After all, he couldn’t go chasing after the big fish and let the small one slip away. Zhang may have just suffered a blow, but he was still full of fight. He should be able to catch the nightmare fiend… probably.

Watching Zhang disappear into the chaos, Du Fang felt as though he’d forgotten something.

“Oh, I forgot to remind Captain Zhang… this nightmare fiend isn’t a wild one—it’s domesticated,” Du Fang murmured.

Domesticated—meaning it had a master behind it.

…

Su Jiuming strolled in from the other end of the chaotic massage parlor, wearing a trench coat over a garish pink suit. Behind him marched squads of grim, fully armed officers.

The entire parlor was now under complete control. Such a notorious establishment had been wiped out in one sweep; from now on, the city of Jiangling would be all the more peaceful and harmonious.

Du Fang, holding Luo Luo’s hand, stood by Number 18.

She crouched on the ground, shivering, clutching her head, too terrified to move. The fear and threat Du Fang represented were overwhelming—after all, the death of the manager fiend had shaken her to her core.

Su Jiuming approached, a white rose twirling between his fingers and a charming smile on his lips.

Du Fang saw him and called out, “Brother Su, this technician is a nightmare fiend—I’ve subdued her. Captain Zhang said to leave her to you.”

Su Jiuming’s eyes filled with mock grievance. “Little Du, Captain Zhang brought you for such excitement, but you… didn’t invite me?”

There was a hint of wounded affection in his tone.

Du Fang was momentarily at a loss. Your charm alone makes Captain Zhang feel guilty for bringing you to a massage parlor.

Su Jiuming stopped beside Du Fang, casually drew the standard-issue dreamwalker pistol, and aimed it at the technician’s brow.

Bang!

A tongue of flame leapt from the muzzle.

Number 18’s head was blown clean through, the nightmare fiend within her perishing instantly, all life snuffed out.

Su Jiuming knelt, placed the white rose he’d been toying with gently atop her corpse. The petals, stained crimson, exuded a strange, tragic beauty, as though in mourning for the body that had been stolen.

From the pocket of his pink suit, Su Jiuming produced a pink handkerchief and wiped his hands. Then he looked at Du Fang, cocked his head, and smiled with seductive charm.

“All done.”

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