Venerable Demon King & The Doting Immortal (QT)
Chapter 433: Looking for his sweetheart

Chapter 433: Looking for his sweetheart

The atmosphere hung heavy with tension as a shirtless man stood at the doorway, an unwelcome sight with his sweat-slicked skin gleaming under the dim light. His tattoos, an erratic collection adorning his arms, neck, and even tauntingly visible above his waistband.

A few bruises decorated his shoulder, fading but still visible, hinting at a recent altercation. He squinted at Han Xin and his men through the dishevelled curtain of greasy hair that fell across his forehead, irritation radiating from his scowl.

"What do you want?" His voice was low, a gravelly snarl that underscored his annoyance tinged with the slurring speech after having drunk a lot. It was clear he had been interrupted mid extra curriculum activity.

Han Xin’s anger simmered in response, and with one deft motion, he unleashed his mental power. It surged around the man like an unseen vortex, palpable and threatening, pressing against him like a physical force. Where was Xiang Yu? Was he inside with this... man.

The man’s expression shifted from annoyance to panic as he gasped, struggling to breathe as the pressure tightened. His veins throbbed beneath his skin, shadows of fear darkening his features, and for a fleeting moment, he felt like prey facing a beast.

But the moment rattling his senses was cut short when Eirian, its voice piercing through the tension like glass shattering, called out, "Nope, nope, wrong house! It must be the one opposite it... or one of the houses around here."

Han Xin felt his grip on the man loosen, though he fought against it, his own fury barely contained.

Suddenly a woman rushed into view, her unkempt hair framing her face, and a sheet hastily draped across her body. "Sir! Are you okay?" She exclaimed, concern painted across her features, but her eyes widened upon noticing the group of men standing there.

A spark of intrigue ignited in her gaze as if the chaos around her had transformed into something captivating. She instinctively pulled the sheet tighter, attempting to appear more presentable as she moved toward them, equal parts concerned and curious.

Instead, the man at the door pushed her away roughly, his voice thunderous, "No! Get lost you bitch." He was enraged seeing how she was looking at these men like a fish staring at water.

Han Xin found the scents emanating from both of them revolting. It was the strong stench of pheromones and sweat mingling in with a faint hint of cheap perfume. He turned sharply, disgust swirling through him, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Which one is it"

Eirian’s presence flickered uncertainly, sensing the rage bubbling in Han Xin’s voice. "Now now, don’t be mad," it quipped, though the playful lilt was largely absent. "It’s a fail-safe. I just forgot about it," it whispered, nervousness layering its tone.

"The place could be any of the homes, maybe it’s one of the ones around here. It was made that way in case someone with bad intentions figured out where the person was.... maybe you have bad intentions, hehe."

AN: Yes very bad wrestling intentions hehehe

The chill in Han Xin’s expression deepened an icy blade that sliced through the air. He gestured for the others to move away from the house, urging them to knock on the next doors. They complied knocking on the doors of the surrounding houses.

Meanwhile, Han Zhan was apologizing to the man they had disturbed only for a door to be slammed squarely in his face with an irritated "Get lost!"

He soon approached his cousin, whose impatience cloaked him like a dark shadow. The oppressive aura radiating from Han Xin seemed to bend the atmosphere around him, and even the bustling street around them grew quiet as if whispering secrets behind their backs.

Han Zhan hesitated, weighing his options as he contemplated whether to inject Han Xin again in case he loses control.

Having decided not to he cleared his throat and said, "Don’t worry, he has to be around here somewhere," adopting a hopeful tone.

But Han Xin didn’t respond. Instead, his sharp gaze flickered over the crowd his senses tense and alert. There was a shift in the air, a subtle prickling that spread across his skin. The unmistakable weight of someone watching them hard.

His gaze settled on a figure, a man with only one arm perched on a stool at a nearby table. Unlike the others who gawked or gossiped, this man’s stare was laced with great meaning. His eyes suddenly darted away the moment they locked onto Han Xin’s fierce gaze.

Han Xin suddenly strode over, each step purposeful and intimidating, closing the distance between them.The one-armed man visibly recoiled, hands trembling as he fumbled with his chopsticks, struggling to pick up a piece of salted egg with his non-dominant hand. It slipped through his grasp, falling into the bowl with a quiet plop.

The man was already trembling, but now the sweat gleamed on his forehead, fear etched into his features. He raised his remaining hand defensively, stammering, "Hey, hey, hey—don’t don’t bully the cripple!"

Unfazed, Han Xin produced a picture of Xiang Yu, holding it out. The image floated like a spectral warning before the one-armed man, whose expression twisted into a mask of hostility at the sight. The terror that crept into his voice shattered into pieces as he remembered how this person traumatised him.

"Have you seen this person?" Han Xin demanded, his voice low and filled with an uncompromising intensity.

The one-armed man swallowed hard, beads of sweat condensing at his temples. Of course, he knew this person. How could he not? He never forgot the face of the man who had handed him his misfortune, severing his arm.

His suspicions that Xiang Yu might be a fugitive were further confirmed. Since this terrifying man in front of him was hunting him down he thought it would be a way to get revenge on Xiang Yu.

"Y-yes," he stammered, quickly calculating the risks. "But the information will cost you... it won’t be for free—"

Before he could finish, Han Zhan had moved with a speed that surprised him, grabbing the back of the man’s neck before slamming his face into the bowl of soup he had been eating.

The surprised yelp echoed before it was gargled in broth, and the one-armed man flailed in panic, struggling futilely against Han Zhan’s grip.

"Where is he?!" Han Zhan demanded, his voice sharp and cutting, while the man fought against the inevitable, fear transforming into a primal instinct for survival. His head dipped lower, the surface of the warm soup lapping against his skin.

The commotion drew the attention of the shop owner, who shouted, "Hey! Isn’t that the beauty who cut off your arm?"