Chapter 85: Merciless Slaughter!

Yang Yan glanced impassively at the severed arm beside him, blood still streaming from the wound. Not far from the outstretched hand, an identification token lay quietly on the ground, speckled with fresh blood.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Yang Yan held the token in his right hand, crouching before the ashen-faced Xu Shaoguang, his tone indifferent.

“Yang Yan, as long as you let me go, I swear I’ll never oppose you again. Moreover… I’ll persuade my father to have the Xu family become a subordinate of the Zhang family!” Xu Shaoguang’s face was a mask of terror. His left hand clutched desperately at his mutilated shoulder, yet the blood continued to gush. Pain and blood loss had rendered him deathly pale, with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Oh? Is that so? But compared to those things, I find your life far more interesting.” As he spoke, icy killing intent swept over Yang Yan’s seemingly calm features. As the last word fell, the blade in his hand, Moonshadow Frost, flashed upward in a lightning arc.

A dull, wet sound of blade piercing flesh rang out again. Xu Shaoguang’s left arm was severed, flung away from his body. Crimson blood spurted from his shoulder, splattering onto Yang Yan’s face and body.

A piercing scream, like the wail of ghosts and wolves, tore through the air once more. At this moment, Xu Shaoguang understood that Yang Yan would not spare him. The previous plea on his face vanished, replaced by a look of venomous hatred. His gaze locked on Yang Yan as he snarled, “Yang Yan, even if I die and become a vengeful spirit, I’ll never let you go! My father will avenge me—and when he does, your entire Zhang family will be wiped out! Hahaha…”

Watching the frenzied Xu Shaoguang laugh maniacally to the heavens, Yang Yan’s heart remained unmoved. With a flick of his wrist, a cold glint flashed, and Xu Shaoguang’s left leg was severed from his body.

“You couldn’t do anything to me alive—what makes you think you can in death?” With those words, Yang Yan struck again. Severed limbs flew as blood sprayed in torrents.

Now, Yang Yan was drenched in blood from head to toe, a demon god risen from hell. He paid no heed to Xu Shaoguang’s agonized screams. The sword flashed once more, a streak of blood crossing Xu Shaoguang’s vision.

“Don’t worry. I assure you, it won’t be long before your father and brother join you in the afterlife.”

With a cold glance at Xu Shaoguang’s mangled corpse, Yang Yan felt not a trace of pity. He knew that if their positions were reversed, his own fate would have been no better.

Moreover, it had always been the Xu family provoking him, crossing his bottom line time and again, even daring to harm the person dearest to him—Ziling. How could Yang Yan endure such enmity in silence?

This was the first time since embarking on the path of cultivation that Yang Yan had truly killed a man. In this moment, he gained a new understanding of life.

How fragile human life is!

He recalled the look in Xu Shaoguang’s eyes before death—pleading, resentful, terrified, and finally, watching all vitality drain away before his very eyes.

That feeling of one’s life and fate held in another’s hands, the utter despair and helplessness of being at the mercy of others, kept replaying in Yang Yan’s mind.

“Perhaps, in the eyes of true powerhouses, the lives of people like us are as insignificant as ants,” Yang Yan sighed inwardly. But his resolve only hardened: he would never be a lamb to the slaughter. Only by gaining absolute strength, by becoming truly powerful, could he seize control of his destiny and protect all that he cherished.

After a moment of reflection, Yang Yan calmed his mind, took a clean set of clothes from his storage pouch, and changed. He wiped the blood from his face—after all, his earlier bloodstained appearance was far too frightening to show in public.

Once finished, he stepped forward and retrieved the storage pouch by Xu Shaoguang’s corpse. He had no qualms about killing for treasure.

But there was no time to examine its contents now. Glancing around, he noticed several pairs of emerald eyes flickering in the dim forest, accompanied by wolfish howls.

“Bloodthirsty wolves—well, let them have you…”

Bloodthirsty wolves were top-tier demonic beasts, known for moving in packs and an acute sense of smell, especially for blood. This was the perfect way to dispose of the corpse.

Yang Yan didn’t worry about news of Xu Shaoguang’s death spreading. Earlier, his formidable spiritual awareness had detected at least three hidden presences nearby. No doubt, Xu Shaoguang’s brutal end had been witnessed. It was only a matter of time before the Xu family learned what had happened.

But that suited him fine. The Xu family’s repeated provocations had utterly enraged him. Since the open and secret struggles among the city’s families were tacitly permitted by the Qingxuan Sect, there was no need to put on a false face. If the Xu family liked to play dirty, then Yang Yan would declare open war. Xu Shaoguang’s death was his formal declaration—a grand gift to the Xu family.

“I wonder how Liu Zhenqing and the others are faring…” The feud with the Xu family could be settled another time. The most important matter now was the Hundred Hunters’ Field trial. Yang Yan glanced at the setting sun, then turned and sped off toward where Liu Zhenqing and the others were.

As he left, the bloodthirsty wolves that had been lurking in the shadows finally crept forward, low howls rising as they swarmed over the corpse. In moments, nothing remained but gleaming white bones.

Clang! Clang!

With two crisp clashes of metal, Liu Zhenqing and Sun Zhixin were forced back, their faces pale and grave.

They had earlier been trapped in the Blazing Soul Fire Array. Though aided by Yang Yan’s azure spiritual power, resisting the searing flames had drained most of their strength. Breaking out had required their strongest martial techniques; now, their remaining spiritual power was less than a third of their peak.

Neither Liu Zhenqing nor Sun Zhixin were ordinary cultivators, but in their depleted state, facing the formidable Leng Yuetian alone, they were clearly at a disadvantage.

“Hold on a little longer—Yang Yan should be here any minute!” Gritting his teeth against his own weakness, Liu Zhenqing called out to Sun Zhixin.

She nodded faintly in reply, pale but resolute. For Yang Yan, she harbored feelings she could not articulate. From initial dislike, even resentment, to acceptance, their short time together in the Hundred Hunters’ Field had shown her a different side of him.

That youthful face, still bearing traces of innocence, always carried a calm, confident smile. No danger, no adversary, seemed able to disturb his composure. Simply being near him filled her with an inexplicable sense of safety.

Sometimes, watching his profile as he smiled and joked with others, Sun Zhixin felt her heart melting. She would gaze at him in a daze, her soul seemingly floating far beyond the clouds, oblivious to anything happening in the world around her…

Until, suddenly, she would snap out of it—her cheeks aflame, heart pounding, and an unfamiliar flutter stirring deep within.

“Watch out!” Liu Zhenqing’s anxious shout snapped Sun Zhixin back to herself. She saw Leng Yuetian’s face twisted with malice. With a flick of his wrist, his snake-shaped sword wrenched her crimson whip aside, then lunged forward, blade darting for her pale throat like a venomous viper!

In that split second, Sun Zhixin’s face went even paler. She tried to recover her whip, but it was too late.

“Is this where I die…?” A bitter, sorrowful smile touched her lips as she closed her beautiful eyes.

Clang!

Just as Sun Zhixin shut her eyes, a clear metallic ring sounded. Suddenly, she felt an arm tighten around her waist. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself cradled in the arms of a not-so-tall young man. The golden light of the setting sun spilled over his resolute profile, gilding him in a warm glow…