The air reeked of blood and poison.

  Ren’s first strike was pure violence, a devastating blow that sent one of the menial disciples crashing to the ground, bones shattering from the sheer force. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even look at the body as he turned and drove his fist into another’s throat, cutting off a scream before it could even form.

  His chest burned, his mind a storm of rage and grief, but his body moved with terrifying precision. Each hit, each kick, each strike was controlled devastation, fueled by the single thought that replayed over and over in his mind—

  Hui is dead.

  She had been small, gentle, with warm hands that always smelled of spices and herbs, with a voice soft yet steady whenever she scolded them for not eating properly. And now—

  Now she was gone. Violated. Humiliated. Left for them like discarded trash.

  Ren’s next blow caved in a disciple’s chest, and the sickening crunch felt too damn satisfying.

  Beside him, Shen Mu moved like a shadow of death, his hands flicking rapidly as vials shattered against flesh, releasing deadly vapors. One disciple clawed at his face, his skin already darkening as a rapid necrosis spread through his body. Another screamed as his muscles locked up, his limbs seizing violently before he collapsed, foaming at the mouth.

  Shen Mu felt nothing as he watched them fall. His usually calm expression was twisted, his lips curled in a snarl.

  Poison is too quick.

  He wanted them to suffer.

  His fingers twitched as he reached for another vial, a new concoction—one he had never tested before, one that would eat through flesh and nerves slowly, painfully. He tossed it into the air and caught it, watching the menial disciples hesitate. Their confidence wavered, the sight of their dying comrades draining the color from their faces.

  "Run, and I’ll let you live longer," Shen Mu said coldly.

  A few turned tail, fleeing without hesitation.

  The others hesitated a second too long.

  Ren moved first, tearing into them with merciless efficiency. Shen Mu followed, his poisons making quick work of the rest.

  But before the last of them fell, a shriek of panic cut through the chaos.

  "W-Wait! I—I surrender!" Kui Long stumbled back, his face contorted in terror, his robes already damp with sweat. His hands fumbled for a small vial at his waist, desperation clear in his every movement.

  Shen Mu’s eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing the trick. His fingers flicked, a thin needle piercing Kui Long’s wrist before he could release the poison. The vial tumbled to the ground, shattering harmlessly.

  "That won’t work on me," Shen Mu said, his voice colder than ice. He pulled another vial from his belt and tossed it to Ren. "Antidote. Take it before he tries anything else."

  Ren caught it, downing the liquid in one gulp, his gaze never leaving Kui Long. The moment the warmth of the antidote spread through his veins, he stepped forward and grabbed Kui Long by the collar, yanking him up with one hand. "You little rat. You thought you’d get away?"

  Kui Long coughed, struggling in Ren’s grip. "Y-You can’t! I was tasked by Young Master Feng himself! If you kill me, he’ll—"

  "Young Master Feng?" Ren’s grip tightened, his knuckles whitening. "You’re the one who took Hui, aren’t you? You handed her over."

  Kui Long’s eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape. "I—I was just following orders—!"

  Ren let out a snarl and pulled his fist back, ready to smash his face in, but Shen Mu grabbed his wrist.

  "Not yet." Shen Mu’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of rage. "He doesn’t deserve a quick death."

  The white-robed disciple casually watched the carnage unfold, his lips curling into a sneer, his hands behind his back. "Pathetic slaves, I should have known they wouldn't be of much use," he muttered before turning his gaze to Feiyin.

  The boy was standing still, unnaturally calm, his grey eyes dotted with amethyst locked onto him with chilling intensity.

  Shin scoffed. "I am Shin, third-class outer disciple. A Qi Manifestation phase cultivator. You, boy, have just made the worst mistake of your life."

  Feiyin’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a blade.

  "Feiyin."

  Nothing more. No titles. No bravado. Just his name.

  Then he moved.

  Steel clashed against reinforced flesh as Feiyin’s saber met Shin’s arm. Sparks flew as the Qi Manifestation cultivator channeled his essence into his limbs, his strikes carrying an overwhelming weight. A single hit could shatter bones, rupture organs—

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Yet Feiyin did not break.

  Shin’s brows furrowed as he lashed out with a palm strike, aiming for Feiyin’s ribs. Feiyin twisted at the last moment, minimizing the impact, but even then, the force sent a deep ache through his bones. He barely had time to exhale before Shin was on him again, his movements brutal and relentless. A knee came for his stomach, and Feiyin barely managed to block with his forearm, the impact sending a jarring pain through his entire body.

  Gritting his teeth, he retaliated, twisting his wrist to angle his saber for a counterstrike. The blade met Shin’s reinforced flesh, and though it cut, it did not bite deep enough. Shin sneered, using the moment to slam his elbow down toward Feiyin’s shoulder, forcing him to disengage and stagger back.

  The disparity was clear—Shin had the advantage in raw power, his strikes carrying the weight of a Qi Manifestation cultivator. But Feiyin was keeping up, refusing to fall, refusing to be overpowered outright.

  And that infuriated Shin.

  No, more than that.

  He’s adapting.

  Shin gritted his teeth, fury simmering in his chest. "You—how are you still standing? A mere Meridian Opening cultivator—!"

  Feiyin didn’t answer. He barely heard him.

  His mind was empty, numb, detached from the battle as instinct guided his movements. Yet somewhere, beneath the cold execution of his attacks, a voice whispered to him.

  Hui’s voice.

  The memory of her laughter, the quiet moments where she would hum as she cooked, the shy smile when they praised her food.

  Gone.

  She was gone.

  The emptiness ate at his inside as he asked himself.

  What do I want to do right now?

  The answer came immediately, surging from the depths of his being.

  I want to destroy this sect. Wipe it out completely from the face of the earth

  But I can’t. Not yet.

  The void needed to be filled.

  So what can I do now?

  A single, irrefutable answer came to him as he looked at his opponent, and with it, an irresistible urge.

  I can destroy this one first.

  Something clicked.

  His blade pulsed, not with Qi—but with something deeper, something more fundamental, something that came from the bottom of his heart.

  Intent.

  His intent sharpened the edge of his saber, turning it into something beyond mere steel. The air around it seemed to distort, as if the very world recoiled from its presence. It was invisible yet undeniable, a silent promise of destruction.

  Shin’s instincts screamed at him. He leaped back, trying to create distance, but Feiyin was already there.

  The first strike came. Shin blocked it, but his reinforced arms buckled under the sheer force. The second strike tore through his shoulder, blood spraying as he stumbled.

  "Impossible!" he choked, his voice laced with panic.

  Feiyin didn’t give him time to recover.

  A final step. A final swing.

  Shin’s body tried to resist, his instincts screaming at him to dodge, to survive—but it was too late. The moment Feiyin's saber moved, it was over.

  The blade passed through his neck like a whisper of death, so sharp, so final, that for a fraction of a second, Shin still believed himself alive. He saw Feiyin’s cold, unwavering expression, the terrifying, absolute calm in those grey eyes speckled with amethyst.

  Then, the world tilted.

  A warm spray of blood filled the air as his head detached from his body, his final thoughts vanishing into nothingness before his severed skull struck the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.

  The body crumpled next to it, twitching once, twice—then still.

  Silence fell.

  Feiyin stood over the corpse, his saber dripping with blood, his grey eyes devoid of emotion, clouding the turmoil he felt raging inside him.

  Then he turned.

  Ren and Shen Mu stood nearby, their expressions dark, their hands gripping a battered figure. Kui Long. His face was swollen and bloodied, his robes torn, his body trembling as he tried to keep himself upright.

  Ren’s voice was low, filled with seething rage. "This bastard is the one who took Hui away."

  Feiyin felt it again—that deep, gnawing urge to annihilate. His fingers tightened around his saber. But before he could act, movement in the distance caught his attention. He turned, eyes narrowing as Yue approached, carrying Hui’s lifeless body in her arms. Her eyes were red, tears streaking her face, her lips quivering as she glared at Kui Long with nothing but raw, unfiltered agony.

  "You! Why did you do this?!" Her voice cracked, torn between heartbreak and fury.

  Kui Long shrank under her gaze, his previous bravado crumbling. "I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was yours! I have no choice—I have to bring in beauties for Young Master Feng every month!"

  Yue recoiled in disgust. "You beast!"

  Feiyin raised a hand, his voice quiet but absolute. "Don’t waste your time on him. He will be taken care of."

  He turned his gaze to Shen Mu, who met his eyes with a grim nod before shifting his attention to Kui Long, pinning him with a cold, assessing stare.

  Shen Mu’s voice was eerily smooth. "You love to take things from others that don’t belong to you. So you won’t mind if I take something from you, like, let’s say… your manhood?"

  Kui Long shivered violently, his breath quickening in sheer terror. "No—please! I—I'll tell you anything! Just don’t—!"

  Feiyin’s expression remained unreadable, but then, he smiled—a warm, almost comforting smile. Yet it sent a deep, primal fear crawling up Kui Long’s spine.

  "I can ask Shen Mu to take it easy on you," Feiyin murmured, his tone deceptively soft. "You just need to tell me everything you know about this Feng of yours."

  Kui Long’s head bobbed frantically as Shen Mu reached into his belt, withdrawing a long, gleaming needle. "Yes! Yes! I’ll tell you everything!"

  His voice came in rushed, panicked gasps. "Feng Liu—he’s a first-class outer disciple of the Joyful Union Branch! He’s built a massive following with his network and strength! I've also heard that he is only 24 years old yet is expected to reach the elemental infusion phase! He’s a sea elf, charismatic, good-looking, but—he’s sadistic! Even to his own people! He… he buys or takes girls to harvest their yin essence for cultivation… he—he enjoys it!"

  Feiyin’s smile deepened as Kui Long’s words tumbled out. The more he spoke, the more his fate was sealed.

  "Alright, you did as asked," Feiyin said, his voice light. "So here’s my part."

  He turned to Shen Mu, his expression utterly serene. "Shen, can you take it easy on him?"

  Shen Mu’s grin turned vicious as he twirled the needle between his fingers. "I’ll do my best."

  Kui Long’s screams echoed into the night.