The five-and-a-half-year-old baby doctor comes to the city to cure those who refuse to listen.

The Black Crow Lord's roar echoed in the underground palace, carrying a malevolent aura that could shatter one's bones.

The smoke and dust from the explosion at the cave entrance slowly dissipated, revealing the scene inside.

An underground palace, comparable in size to a football field, with eerie blue lamps burning on its walls, illuminating the entire space like a ghostly realm.

The palace was packed with a sea of ​​people; at a glance, there were at least three or four hundred.

They were dressed in black, wielding sharp blades, their eyes crazed and vacant, like a group of marionettes.

At the highest point directly opposite the cave entrance, there was a huge throne made of piled-up white bones.

On the throne sat a man wearing a raven mask, who was none other than the Lord of the Black Raven Altar.

Behind him stood a large, pitch-black banner, on which countless painful human faces were vaguely distorted and wailing, exuding a nauseating evil aura.

"Hehehe."

The Black Crow Master let out a low laugh, the sound like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

He looked down at the figures in work clothes carrying bizarre weapons at the cave entrance and slowly stood up.

"You choose the path to heaven but refuse to take it, while insisting on barging into the gates of hell when there are none."

He spread his arms wide, his expression arrogant.

"Today, I will show you what true..."

His voice abruptly stopped.

The masked head tilted slightly, as if searching for something.

"Um?"

His authoritative lines caught in his throat, and the atmosphere instantly became somewhat awkward.

"Where's my rug?"

He looked down at the bare stone platform beneath his feet, his voice revealing a genuine sense of confusion.

"Where's my 300-year-old handmade silk carpet that I got from the Persian royal family? It's right here, such a big one, red with gold trim!"

Chu Chen and his group entered through the cave entrance.

Zhao Wuji carried a heavy scroll on his shoulder; it was the missing Persian carpet.

He leaned close to Chu Chen with a boastful look on his face and lowered his voice.

"Sir, look at this material and the workmanship. It's enough to make your bed when you get home."

Chu Chen pinched the edge of the carpet and shook his head.

"It's too prickly; it's uncomfortable to sleep in."

He pointed to the carpet and gave instructions to Zhou Tian.

"Take it back to Dahuang's doghouse. It likes this exotic style and even dreams of going to the Western Regions to be a king when it sleeps at night."

"Okay!" Zhou Tian grinned and reached out to take it.

The Black Raven Lord on the throne listened to their conversation, his face turning green with rage beneath his mask.

What a shame!

The terrifying atmosphere he painstakingly created, and the domineering lines he meticulously prepared, were all ruined by a single carpet!

"You're asking for it!"

The Black Crow Altar Master was so angry that he trembled all over and suddenly waved his hand.

"Charge! Tear them to pieces, and burn their souls like firecrackers!"

"roar!"

Hundreds of Black Lotus cultists charged forward like mad dogs on a command, howling wildly and brandishing their weapons.

"Sir, please rest."

Zhao Wuji handed the carpet to Yan Zhengqing beside him, smiling obsequiously.

"Leave this small matter to us, don't get your hands dirty."

Before he finished speaking, he was the first to rush out.

Zhou Tian, ​​carrying the golden mountain-splitting axe, followed closely behind, shouting excitedly.

"Dinner's ready! Dinner's ready! Don't try to take it from me!"

Yan Zhengqing, holding the priceless carpet, looked at the two people rushing forward, then at the gold brick in his hand, and sighed.

He carefully placed the carpet in the corner and joined the fray.

A brutal, one-sided beating ensued.

Zhou Tian was like a Tyrannosaurus Rex charging into a sheepfold, swinging his golden giant axe like a human meat grinder.

With one swing of his axe, he cleaved seven or eight cultists in two, sword and all.

With a sweeping motion, he cut more than a dozen cult members in half at the waist, their flesh and blood flying everywhere.

"Not enough, not enough! You guys should fight back!" Zhou Tian shouted in dissatisfaction as he chopped.

On the other hand, Zao Wou-Ki's painting style appears much more "refined".

Holding a golden latrine scoop, he moved swiftly through the crowd.

A believer raised a knife to strike him, but he flicked his wrist, and the spoon head struck the other man's wrist with a sharp "smack".

The cultist screamed as the knife in his hand flew out of his hand.

Zhao Wuji stepped forward and, with the handle of the spoon, swiftly tapped several acupoints on the cultist's chest.

The cultist froze, his face contorted with a nauseous expression, and he collapsed, foaming at the mouth and convulsing.

"You filthy creature, how dare you be so insolent before me, the director? Taste my 'Nine-Turned Intestines' move!"

With a spoon in hand, Zhao Wuji displayed the style of a grandmaster and the professionalism of a sanitation worker.

The most outrageous one is Yan Zhengqing.

He held the gold bricks to his chest with his left hand and gripped the can of "Light of the Right Path" insecticide with his right.

A believer rushed up to him, and he first shouted righteously.

"Stop right there! I'm warning you, don't resist! Confess and you'll be treated leniently; resist and you'll be punished severely!"

The cultist didn't care about that and swung his sword at you.

Yan Zhengqing dodged to the side and pressed the showerhead directly into the cultist's face.

"Sizzle—"

A white mist carrying the scent of jasmine sprayed onto the face of the cultist.

The cultist froze for a moment, then covered his eyes and screamed in agony, dropping the knife in his hand and rolling on the ground.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Yan Zhengqing stepped forward, raised the gold brick in his hand, and smashed it hard against the back of the believer's head in a gesture resembling an official seal.

"Bang!"

"In the name of the people, you are sentenced to labor reform!"

He struck each brick with steady precision, muttering incantations as if performing some sacred ritual.

Chu Chen moved a small stool he had copied from the Paradise Pavilion, sat in the corner, took out a bag of potato chips from his Winnie the Pooh backpack, and watched with great interest.

This isn't a fight; it's clearly a large-scale performance art piece.

In less than ten minutes, the palace was filled with people lying down.

With broken arms and legs, foaming at the mouth, and knocked unconscious... not a single one of them was still able to stand.

The entire scene was so quiet that only the "crunch" of Chu Chen eating potato chips could be heard.

The Black Crow Lord on the throne had gone from anger to shock, and finally to a state of stunned silence.

He looked at his elite men, whom he was so proud of, lying on the ground like a pile of junk, and felt that his worldview had been devastated.

What kind of people are these?!

A muscular man who can chop melons and vegetables with ease.

A pervert who uses a spoon as if it were the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

There's also a lunatic who's using insecticide and a brick to conduct a physical education campaign!

"Finished?"

Chu Chen patted the potato chip crumbs off his hands, stood up, and looked at the Black Crow Altar Master on the throne.

He took small, short steps and walked towards the throne.

Zhou Tian, ​​Zhao Wuji, and Yan Zhengqing immediately followed behind him, spreading out in a triangular formation, like three loyal bodyguards.

"Your turn, Brother Crow."

Chu Chen walked to the foot of the bone throne, raised his head, and was still chewing on potato chips.

"Will you come down yourself, or should I ask you to?"

"You little bastard!"

The Black Crow Master finally snapped out of his shock and let out a hysterical roar.

He suddenly stood up and grabbed the large black banner behind him.

"I originally intended to leave you with a complete corpse, but since you insisted on courting death, then don't blame me!"

He slammed the banner heavily into the ground.

"boom!"

The entire palace trembled violently.

A sudden gust of cold wind arose, causing the flame of the eternal lamp to flicker wildly.

"The Banner of Ten Thousand Souls, rise!"

The Black Crow Altar Master formed hand seals and chanted incantations.

The large, black banner moved without wind, and the countless pained faces on its surface seemed to come alive, emitting piercing screams.

Thick black mist surged out from the banner and gathered in mid-air.

Countless vengeful spirits and ghostly apparitions tumbled and roared in the black mist, causing the temperature of the entire palace to plummet, as if it had instantly entered an ice cellar.

Zhao Wuji and Yan Zhengqing both felt a sharp pain in their souls, and their faces turned pale.

"Everyone, step back."

Chu Chen's voice rang out calmly.

He remained standing in the same spot, but had stopped chewing.

Under the control of the Black Crow Altar Master, the churning black energy rapidly condensed into a gigantic ghost hand that blotted out the sky.

The ghostly hand, composed of thousands upon thousands of twisted souls, with five sharp claws gleaming with an eerie light, carried a terrifying pressure that seemed capable of tearing everything apart, and fiercely clawed down at the small figure in the center of the hall.