?Mobile reading: Who can challenge the Fire Meteor once it emerges? As Qin Feng made his appearance, he immediately eliminated Long Wu. Long Wu never knew until the end of his life exactly how he had perished. When a person is at the height of their power and prestige, their defenses are often at their weakest. During his conflicts with Chen family brothers, Long Wu consistently held a decisive advantage and believed this would be no exception. Yet when the Fire Meteor approached him, he remained completely unaware. Even as the blade pierced his heart, he continued to speak with unwavering arrogance. His elder brother had just died, and his younger brothers and companions, all tightly following him, now turned furious. Among the dozen or so loyal followers who had remained close to Long Wu, many were his most devoted supporters. Their immediate response was to raise their swords and charge directly at Qin Feng. Chen Bao shouted loudly, "Protect Young Master Feng!" Chen Bao then covered his brother's mouth, saying, "Young Master Feng is so capable—do we really need to protect him? Don't go rushing in and disrupt the situation. Young Master Feng can handle it all by himself." As the two Chen brothers were speaking, the fight had already begun. Clang... thud... crack... Qin Feng leaped down from the concrete mound like a lion tackling a rabbit. With swift, determined movements, he charged left and right, sending the attackers sprawling. Some lost arms, others legs—unless they were pierced by Qin Feng's own axe through the abdomen or pinned to the ground—within less than ten seconds, the battle was over. Qin Feng then stepped on the shoulder of a man struggling to rise, using the momentum to swing back up onto the concrete mound, snapping the man's scapula with a crisp sound. Whistle... the wind rustled his garments, and he stood like a war god, inspiring deep reverence in the Chen brothers. "Chen Hu and Chen Bao, the trouble is settled," said Qin the Young. "The smaller fish and shrimp remaining—shouldn't be much of a challenge for you?" Chen Hu stepped forward promptly. "Don't worry, Qin Young," he said. "These little fish and shrimp will be no problem. Let's go—charge!" "The other side is now leaderless, just a bunch of scattered, disorganized troops—how could they possibly withstand the morale-boosted Hu Clan? They didn't even get a chance for close combat before scattering like birds and beasts. The ones who ran slower suffered the worst, being brutally beaten by the newly arrived Hu Clan reinforcements. Chen's brothers led by example, charging right at the front. When they finally remembered to go to Qin Feng and seek recognition for their efforts, they found Feng had already vanished without a trace. "Bro, where's Feng?" Chen Bao turned his head around so quickly it seemed like a windmill spinning. Chen Hu shook his head and said, "He must have left at some point. Brother, Feng has resolved such a major issue for us. From now on, we must remain loyal to him, absolutely devoted, no second thoughts. Do you understand?" Chen Bao nodded firmly, saying, "With Feng, there's definitely a bright future ahead." As Qin Feng returned to his vehicle, he paused mid-action, his hand still resting on the door handle. A sharp intuition told him that somewhere not far away, a pair of eyes was watching him—strong in presence, undoubtedly a master. Few people possessed such presence, and the first person that came to his mind was the God of Death. He turned around, fixing his gaze on the likely hiding spot of the God of Death, a quiet, contemptuous smile slowly forming on his face. He believed that, with the God of Death's keen eyesight, he would clearly see the shifts in his expression. The God of Death had originally planned to wait until he boarded the vehicle before launching a rocket barrage at it. Now that he had been spotted, there was no point in continuing to hide. Most importantly, he could no longer bear Qin Feng's condescension. Among the many assassins nurtured on Death Island, the God of Death had always considered himself the foremost. Though several others had risen in prominence—such as the rising star Feng Mo in recent years—he had always maintained that he was the strongest. Just a few days ago, someone who had never experienced failure stumbled upon a well-planned ambush laid by Qin Feng. Not only did he suffer serious injuries, but he also lost his signature weapon—eventually fleeing in disarray. To him, this was nothing short of a profound humiliation. Already feeling deeply ashamed, how could he bear Qin Feng's condescending expression? He promptly abandoned his rocket launcher, leaping out of his hiding spot. Though both of them hailed from the Island of Death, this was their first formal face-to-face encounter. Standing just a few meters apart, the Slayer spoke, "You're Feng Mo?" "You're the Slayer?" Qin Feng replied, his tone dripping with unmistakable disdain. "What a surprise—how could anyone imagine that the legendary Slayer of the killer circles is a man with a limp? By the way, where is your blade, the one named Fushen?" The Slayer was indeed furious, gritting his teeth. "Feng Mo, your Fire-Phoenix will soon become mine." "To lose even your own blade and still dream of seizing someone else's—what a joke." "Qin Feng continued to fan the flames," You're not a Wuzhai, aren't you? It's said that Wuzhai bodies are as dry and decaying as old wood, immune to blades, water, and fire. How could you have become a lame man? Ah, I see now—you must be a wild-born of the Wuzhai lineage, with impure bloodline, correct?" The term "wild-born" truly struck at the heart of the Death God. He was a natural son, never favored by his family, often bullied throughout his youth. Because of his exceptional physical condition, he was transferred to the Island of Death and trained as a proficient killer. His very first mission—unassigned by the organization—was to eliminate those who had called him "wild-born" in his presence. Wuzhai, like cultivators, are ranked and progress through gradual stages of cultivation. The Death God had only become a Wuzhai for about a decade and had not yet reached the stage where his body is as dry and brittle as old wood. Thus, he still suffers injuries. At this point, his blood and internal organs are resilient to any form of attack, with the only vulnerability remaining in his joints. No doubt, the Manager of Small Romance has been lucky—his first move precisely hit the manager's weak point. Just as Qin Feng left a wound on the Slayer's back, seemingly serious but actually not life-threatening. Qin Feng was truly furious, roaring like a wild beast: "Fengmo! I'll tear you into fragments!" Before the Slayer could launch an attack, Qin Feng added, "This is the Heavenly Kingdom of China—our preference isn't to be torn into fragments. You should say 'cut into eight pieces' instead, to be culturally appropriate!" Ah! The Slayer roared, using his lame foot to tap the ground, his body propelling forward like a cannonball aimed directly at Qin Feng. His hands, positioned ahead, had their index fingers splayed, the knuckles stark white, and the sharp nails gleaming with a cold sheen. Clearly, he was determined to tear Qin the Young Man into fragments. "Perfect timing!" "Qin Feng excitedly exclaimed, eager to find out what benefits came with advancing from the Strong Body stage to the Toughened Bone stage. He decided to test this progression firsthand against the Slayer God. This was also the primary reason Isabella had been delayed in appearing—once she stepped in, Qin had only been able to watch from the sidelines, with few opportunities to showcase himself. He had exerted considerable effort to secure the beautiful instructor's agreement. Of course, she retained the right to step in and provide rescue should any danger arise. A clash of titans—between the Slayer God and the Flame Demon.