Alarmed, he took a few steps backwards but Zhou Zishu’s pressure had almost reached his abdomen. He struggled to tumble away and regain his footing, face ghastly pale. Zhou Zishu threw the tree branch aside when the deadly energy was about to spread to his hand. He fixed his sleeves and stood there grimly.

The Ghost, in a show of exceptional pragmatism, immediately disappeared without hesitation once he touched the ground.

Zhang Chengling shouted, “He’s trying to run!”

Zhou Zishu looked at him, then turned and walked away uncaringly. Zhang Chengling rushed to him and cried, “Shifu!”

Zhou Zishu halted, brows knitted, “Who’s your shifu?”

Zhang Chengling followed him regardless, tugging at his arms and looking up at him. “I just know that it’s you, my Uncle Zhou who saved me, my shifu.”

Who else would speak with this mildly irritated voice while talking to him? Who else would have these bony but warm hands? Who else would have this strange, ghostlike style of fighting? Who else in that crowd would follow him here and rescue him?

Zhang Chengling was unflinching in his judgement. Zhou Zishu wasn’t expecting to trick people for long anyway, but he was still disappointed that the brat saw through him. “You…” He tried to get rid of this tail in the most tactful way possible.

His eyes suddenly turned cold before he could finish the sentence, one hand tugging Zhang Chengling closer to his chest and body quickly moving aside. Zhang Chengling had no time to react, he could only feel a rush of wind brushing them and the arms holding him stiffening. Zhou Zishu’s voice was icy. “Death-seeking bastard!”

The attacker’s neck was broken in one movement before he had the chance to jump at them.

When Zhang Chengling took a closer look, he saw that this man was the first one Zhou Zishu knocked out; who could have imagined that he was only faking his death earlier.

The boy was thrown aside once more. Zhou Zishu walked away without a word, but there was no way Zhang Chengling was going to let him leave again, so he followed the man unabashedly.

However, he quickly grew dizzy as the man was nowhere to be seen. Zhang Chengling knew that it would take decades for him to catch up with the elder’s qinggong skills; he was on the verge of tearing up, miserably calling after him, “Shifu…”

At that moment, he heard a faint laugh, and a man dressed in gray appeared from thin air, stopping Zhou Zishu in his track and wrapping his arms around Zhou Zishu’s waist in a clearly calculated fashion.

Zhou Zishu had no idea why his body was stopped in midair and before he could realize, he was already in the other man’s embrace.

Then he heard the familiar, most annoying voice on Earth, “Why the rush, my Saint Master Zhou?”