Peach Blossom Dual Cultivation - Chapter 68: The Sexy Female Ninja

The distance from Feiyun City to the provincial capital of Western Yunnan wasn’t far—just a two-hour drive.

“Cough… cough…”

Not long after the car set off, Yamamoto Hiroshi, who already looked quite unwell, began coughing. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief, and after a few coughs, blood appeared on the fabric.

“Zhou Lang, I swear I will not rest until I avenge this!”

Looking at the blood on the handkerchief, his face twisted in malice. He had helped the Ye family plot against Zhou Lang but had never expected Zhou Lang to be so strong, causing him to suffer a backlash. Despite this, Hiroshi felt no fear or remorse—only a burning desire for revenge.

“Yamamoto-san, who injured you? Was it this Zhou Lang?” asked Sato, the driver.

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t. Just get me to see the master quickly,” Yamamoto Hiroshi replied coldly.

“Yes!”

Sato didn’t dare ask further and focused on driving.

Yamamoto Hiroshi leaned back in his seat, but before long, he started gasping for air. Cold sweat began to drip from his forehead, and his condition seemed to be worsening.

Although his coughing lessened slightly, his face grew paler and more strained. In his mind, hallucinations began to appear—it was as if he was seeing terrifying ghosts, causing him to tremble all over.

Yes, at this moment, he was seeing ghosts!

“Ah!”

Yamamoto Hiroshi let out a scream.

As a psychic, he had harmed many people over the years, many of whom had died because of him. Now, his mind seemed to be playing a cruel movie, projecting the faces of all the people he had killed, their spirits transformed into vengeful ghosts demanding his life.

These so-called ghosts were illusions, a result of Zhou Lang’s powerful mental technique. These specters were manifestations of Hiroshi’s inner demons, brought forth by Zhou Lang’s spell. Had Hiroshi been a righteous man, such demons wouldn’t have troubled him in the first place.

“Yamamoto-san, what’s happening to you? Should I take you to a hospital?”

Sato asked, terrified. He stopped the car and turned around to check on Yamamoto Hiroshi, his voice trembling with fear.

“Ah!”

Yamamoto Hiroshi, in a crazed state, began pulling out his hair and screaming in pain.

“What on earth is happening?”

Sato, panicking, started the car again and sped toward the provincial capital.

…

On the outskirts of the provincial capital, there was a secluded estate called Languiyuan.

This estate rarely opened its gates, and even the surrounding residents had no idea who lived there.

It appeared to be a pastoral-style estate, but it was far more refined and luxurious than ordinary villas, and much larger in scale.

Under the moonlight, one could vaguely see small bridges over flowing water, pavilions, terraces, and lush trees and flowers. It was an ideal place for relaxation. Those who lived here were no ordinary people. Judging by today’s real estate prices, this estate alone would be worth billions.

In a small pavilion, a woman dressed in black was practicing breathing techniques.

She had short hair and a tall, slender figure, standing over 1.7 meters tall. Her legs, particularly striking, were more than a meter long—perfectly straight and the epitome of beauty. Under the moonlight, her fair skin and graceful figure were even more enchanting.

She was in her early twenties but carried a cold, aloof demeanor, like an untouchable iceberg. This woman was the owner of the estate, and her identity was far from simple—she was Yuki Yamamoto, the leader of the Iga Clan from Japan, and the very person Yamamoto Hiroshi was desperate to see.

Outside the pavilion stood another woman dressed in black. This woman held a long blade over a meter in length. Though she was petite, standing only about 1.6 meters tall, her figure was also quite attractive, especially her full chest, which invited endless imagination.

This woman was no ordinary person either—she was Yukiko Muto, Yuki Yamamoto’s bodyguard.

Yuki Yamamoto continued her meditation with her eyes closed. Aside from the soft chirping of insects in the grass, there was no sound at all.

“Master… Master…”

Suddenly, the peaceful night was broken by the roar of a car engine.

“Yukiko, who’s making such a commotion? Why didn’t the guards stop them? I’ve told everyone not to disturb me when I’m practicing,” Yuki Yamamoto opened her eyes and stopped her meditation, a cold glint flashing in them as she glanced at Yukiko Muto.

“Master, it sounds like Sato. He’s someone who knows the rules, so something serious must have happened for him to come and find you so urgently,” Yukiko Muto replied.

“He’s just a lowly servant. How dare he come to me directly? Even if there’s an issue, he should report to Yamamoto Hiroshi first,” Yuki Yamamoto paused for a moment before continuing, “Go bring him to me.”

A minute later, Sato entered the pavilion, carrying the unconscious figure of Yamamoto Hiroshi in his arms.

“What happened to my cousin?”

Seeing Yamamoto Hiroshi’s pale face, blood at the corners of his mouth, and his unconscious state, Yuki Yamamoto’s expression darkened as she asked.

It turned out that Yamamoto Hiroshi was Yuki Yamamoto’s cousin. No wonder he had been so arrogant, claiming that Zhou Lang wouldn’t dare to offend him. Zhou Lang had assumed that if Yamamoto Hiroshi needed treatment or to break free from Zhou Lang’s illusion, he would have to return to Japan and likely perish on the way. Zhou Lang had no idea that the leader of the Iga Clan was residing right in the Languiyuan.

“This afternoon, Yamamoto-san had me drive him to the Ye family in Feiyun City. After he left the Ye family around seven in the evening, he asked me to bring him to you immediately. He said he must take revenge on Zhou Lang,” Sato explained, kneeling as he spoke. In the Iga Clan, Sato was a low-ranking member, relegated to driving for Yamamoto Hiroshi. Now, he was extremely nervous, as it was rare for him to even see the clan leader, Yuki Yamamoto.

“Who is Zhou Lang?”

Yuki Yamamoto asked.

“I… I don’t know. I only heard Yamamoto-san mutter the name to himself,” Sato quickly answered.

“Sato, you may leave. You’ve done well by bringing my cousin back. Expect your reward soon,” Yuki Yamamoto waved her hand after a brief pause.

“Thank you, Master!”

Sato stood up and quickly left, not daring to linger in Languiyuan any longer.

“Yukiko, lay my cousin down properly,” Yuki Yamamoto instructed her bodyguard after Sato left.

Yukiko Muto lifted the unconscious Yamamoto Hiroshi and carried him effortlessly. Though she was petite, she had no trouble handling the 140-pound man, a clear sign of her martial prowess.

Yukiko placed Yamamoto Hiroshi on the stone table in the pavilion. She and Yuki Yamamoto shared a silent understanding—Yamamoto Hiroshi’s condition was critical, and moving him back to his room would likely be too late. Yuki Yamamoto intended to treat him on the spot.

Under the moonlight, Yamamoto Hiroshi lay on the stone table, his face as pale as paper, his eyes tightly shut, his brows knitted together in pain.

Yuki Yamamoto placed her hand on Yamamoto Hiroshi’s chest. After a moment, she said, “His injuries are severe. It seems he suffered a backlash while trying to control someone’s mind. But what’s strange is that even with the backlash, he shouldn’t be unconscious. After all, it’s only been two hours since he was injured.”